How to Tread Water When You Think You’re Drowning
The last few years have been difficult, haven’t they? They have been for me too. COVID knocked us all for a loop. More than anything the pandemic clarified for us just how vulnerable we all are. Seemingly out of nowhere a deadly disease swept the globe in an incredibly short amount of time. No one was prepared. Our shared incredulity made it possible for the pandemic to kill many people before anyone could formulate any sort of effective response. And once countermeasures were introduced, as barriers were erected to save lives, a vast horde of naysayers (one thinks of them as the monkeys proclaiming “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” with their hands over their eyes, ears, and mouth) refuses to comply, claiming that guidelines to protect people from dying of COVID infringe upon their personal freedoms.
Yes, difficult years indeed. Isolation was difficult; wearing masks was difficult; getting vaccines was not difficult, but it was inconvenient and controversial. And the pandemic is still ongoing; COVID is still mutating into different forms.
COVID is a recent example of a phenomenon that has been ongoing since the dawn of humankind: the universe is out to get us. When we are born, it is up to others to protect us; when we become old enough, we have to fend for ourselves. There’s always something, though: bacteria, viruses, bugs, larger beasts, extreme heat or cold, perilous landscapes, and of course the greatest threat of all: the animosity of selfish or downright evil fellow humans. Face it: your spirit is encased in a disposable vessel; sooner or later your body is going to call it quits. What is annoying, and sometimes frightening, is how often the universe seems to be conspiring to hasten the process. Thus it has been since long before recorded history.
The motivation for this paranoid rant is not directly related to COVID, but to less dangerous but annoying intrusions into my living space of unwanted pests. In the past months two different types of insects have invaded my apartment despite all my efforts at cleanliness and containment. Some went after my food, and some went after me. I won’t go into details; my objective is not a how-to primer on pest control. My point is that these intrusions one after another seem to be getting more and more pervasive. Some experts say they are related to climate change. They are probably not going to stop; they’re probably going to increase. Dealing successfully with one threat does not imply permanent victory and a state of perpetual relaxation; on the contrary, it only means a temporary respite until the next attack.
So how does one cope in the midst of a seemingly malevolent universe? You cling to floats that can keep you from drowning. These floats can be personal: for instance, artistic expressions may allow you to share your thoughts and feelings with others, or actively assisting others may cause you to forget your own grief and tribulations. Alternatively, you may cling to relationships with loved ones to keep you buoyant. Often a combination of both helps the ledger remain more positive than negative.
Regardless of your situation, know this: the others you see around you, even the so-called one percent, the well-known, the glamorous, the wealthy, the ones whose autographs people crave, the ones who can purchase a mansion or a yacht on a whim, the ones who consider themselves qualified to tell others what to do, even the ones who offer counsel and guidance to others: all of these people, every one of them, has their own paranoid delusions and secret sorrows. None are exempt, for such is the human condition.
My conclusion? Well, in part I have written this to expunge my own doubts and fears. I struggle to stay positive at least as much as you do. My conclusion, though, is to reassure you that you are not alone. We are all imperfect. We all have our ups and downs. We all have to struggle to survive. Hang in there. Keep up the fight. If I can manage to keep putting one foot in front of the other, then so can you.
