I don’t know how to do it, anymore. I don’t. I woke up this morning and stared at the light coming through my window. And then I called the boys in and told them that this is the last day they can play with friends and to enjoy it—the numbers are too high, they’re too young to be vaccinated, and the risk is too great. We are going to have to quarantine. Again.
It was one thing when the whole world was in the same boat—baffled by the onslaught of a new and unknown disease. We were all alert and hurting, then. There was community and although we were isolated, we spread hope and we were in it together. The world is different, now. The effects of COVID-19, the deaths, the hospitalizations, the economic turmoil—it’s all preventable. And people are choosing not to participate.
I don’t know how to do it, anymore. I don’t know how to fight the onslaught of misinformation. I don’t know how to provide any more of the hundreds of credible sources spanning countries & political parties & fields of study & religion that all say: get vaccinated. I don’t know how to look at the neighbors, family members, church congregation brothers and sisters who preach protecting the weak and helping those in need out of one side of their mouth, and out of the other scream my freedoms, my rights, my vacations. Who cannot be bothered to, if not get vaccinated, at least wear a mask for someone else. I respect the right to make personal decisions, I do, but your “personal freedoms” have become my oppressions. It has gone too far. It is irresponsible. It’s not fate or chance keeping me here anymore—it’s people. I have lived in quarantine for three years, now. A solid year of that for covid, and looking to add more. I’m angry and overwhelmed and hurting, and once again, largely disregarded and unseen. And I’m telling you, I just don’t know what to do, anymore. This is my plea: do your part.
