A new life?

Being quarantined has a lot of disadvantages. But one thing it did bring me was time, and a lot of it, to think. 

Instead of focusing on all the bad aspects of what’s happening right now, we, The People of the House, have started to reflect on the facets of our lives which have been highlighted by this crazy pandemic. And a lot of them come as pretty big surprises. So much so, in fact, that we’ve started questioning whether there would be sizable changes happening when, some crazy unthinkable day, life resumes.



Spending money

I’m going to start by stating that I know how lucky we are. We get paid full salaries and are at no risk of losing our jobs or financial advantages. I’ve been told many times in my life that my “gilded cage” job was a bad decision, that it prevented me from living the dream, that I should seek something that makes me want to wake up in the morning excited to go to work. Although I know that there are some people out there whose case that may be, I’ve always been comfortable with my choice of a stable, permanent job over anything else that might sound exciting or flashy. This whole situation could be a whole other topic in a different text but, in a nutshell, I can’t be happier about my career choices at the moment.

With that said, the quarantine has put into perspective how we use our money and where it goes, in normal times. We are slowly realizing, with great empathy, that most people live on a paycheck-to-paycheck situation, which means immediate distress at the moment the slightest disturbance happens. Although luckily this is not our own situation, we’ve come to realize that we spend huge chunks of money on various things and that we’ve been somewhat careless about saving. One thing for sure, when life resumes, I will make different financial choices to ensure I have more money put aside and greater financial independence, even if it comes at the cost of reducing the little luxuries I used to indulge in. 

Independence 

As we see society around us grind to a halt, it’s not hard to realize how dependent we are on a vast grid of just-in-time services to sustain our way of life. Grocery stores, pharmacies, hardware stores and many others are, usually, always here to provide. It took several weeks of being locked in at home to realize it is filled with pretty useless stuff while it lacks absolute necessities which I suppose we assume we can get whenever we want.

There doesn’t seem to be a simple solution to this. However, as normalcy eventually resumes, I will make sure we can count on a minimum inventory of nails, screws, minimal stocks of Q-tips and toothpaste, canned foods, flour, and the list goes on and on.

I don’t like this feeling of dependency I have right now. Most of my ideas around the house right now get blocked with “Oh yeah, I would need X or Y to do this”. Could things be different? Maybe not. But I’ll spend time and money making sure we are a little more autonomous, should we end up being on our own for prolonged periods ever again.

Eating 

I don’t know where I stand on this one. On the plus side, we’ve been so good at obtaining, storing and optimizing food before the lockdown that I can proudly say no one has yet to suffer from deprivation of anything. We made good use of the cellar, too, so we can have a good glass of something to share when we feel like it. However, we also felt the low-level, ever-present stress of always, always thinking about our food. How much is there left? Have we used everything in the best way? What can we prepare so that no food whatsoever goes bad?

It has to be said that, no matter how good we were, we’ve had to go back to the grocery store 3 times so far in 5 weeks. It’s not that there wasn’t anything left to eat; it had more to do with the fact that we are mostly vegetarian and literally wane away without our fruits and veggies, combined with the fact that we’ve figured out a way to get to the grocery store, shop and get out with very little contact with others.

When quarantines are lifted and we can start living again, we decided we would take steps to further our autonomy in case another lockdown occurs. We’re thinking about stocks of dried food staples (rice, beans, etc.), but also home-canned meals and probably some sort of rig which would allow small-scale, year-round home farming so we can hopefully get minimal stocks of fresh produce.

Although it hasn’t been the case this time around, the current situation has also raised questions about water supplies, should the grid fail us. I have to say we would’ve been fairly prepared to face such a problem, as well as electrical power to a certain limit. I’m fairly confident that we could’ve hunkered down without power and running water for at least the same amount of time without putting our lives at risk. We would have, however, lost a huge amount of our food reserves. And probably cried our eyes out over it. 

Going out 

This one’s a toughie. Again, we’re super lucky to live in a fairly spaced-out urban neighborhood, even though we’re on Montreal island. We are in a semi-detached house with its own little fenced yard, so there really is no complaining whatsoever. Furthermore, we’ve been technically allowed outside if we respect social distancing methods. This all means that, outside of super ugly rainy days, we’ve been able to go outside for little periods. We try to take a 5k walk every day, and I go for runs when the weather’s nice. I can’t fathom what it’s like to live in a crowded apartment building with too many people inside a small space and no options to go outside. Like what a lot of our Elders are going through. It must be simply horrible. Life-draining. 

Even for us, there’s a form of wear settling in. We coexist super well in the house, everyone leaves space for others and there haven’t been many frictions, but still. No one’s talking about it, but we’re all dying to get out again and see our people, whether they are at school, work or in social scenes. These times have highlighted how much of a social creature the Human is. Again, I can’t imagine what it must be like to be stuck inside, alone, with no one to share anything with. Or, worse, to be a prisoner to a house where violence and abuse cannot be avoided. 

Helping others 

As members of society, we all bring different skills and qualities to the table. In times of crisis, there seems to be a natural calling to go out and help others in any capacity we have. I, for one, am an emergency response logistics manager; I’ve been taught a lot of very useful things to be a helping hand in a dire situation. My girlfriend was trained in psycho-social assistance, and could be a tremendous asset in many places where distressed people need some help. Same goes for a lot of us, in different capacities.

But there’s a problem with this pandemic. We can’t go out and help. We’re going through pretty much the only situation where all the skills I’ve learned can’t be put to use. Even if I could just drop everything and join a response team, I wouldn’t be allowed in groups of people because of propagation dynamics. The only help we can bring is staying home and staying put. I wrote about this before, but this is literally eating away at my sense of civic duty and my need to feel useful. And I know I’m not alone.

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So, where does that leave us? Frankly, I don’t know. The only certainty I have, right now, is that I need to re-think large swaths of my habits and perspectives. I need to find ways to further be prepared for similar events in the future.

When doors re-open and we get to sit down together again, I will be one of the ones asking big questions and proposing changes. Because we could be better prepared. But also because it is our duty to learn, to evolve and to better ourselves in the light of new experiences.

Health in Crisis

It’s a little past week 3 of confinement, here in Montreal. Time has ground to a halt. Everyone tries to create or maintain a bit of a daily routine to avoid going nuts. My family is doing great and I’m super proud that everyone is making noticeable efforts to maintain the peace and coexist in harmony.

Still, we’re in the middle of a real, textbook crisis.

Around us, the news is bleak. Tens of thousands of Humans have died around the world, and with Africa now showing signs of an early flare, things are only going to get much, much worse. We wake up every day wondering about our elders and close ones, our faraway friends, our family, fearing that we could get terrible news at any point, coming from anyone. We live a slow, low-level, hard-to-pinpoint but constant stress situation that took a long time for me to sink in. 

A ton of things we took for granted now feel like distant memories. I found myself longing, at the brink of tears, for an outing at the fresh food market with my girlfriend, a foodie’s ritual we’d developed together on weekends or nights when the kids aren’t around. We just go there and wander around the local shops, picking out cheeses, wines, awesome vegetables or fresh pasta. We smile at the people and thank them for their beautiful products. Then we hurry back home to invent some crazy good recipe and we just, simply, enjoy life. This, to me, is a true piece of happiness. 

I also felt lost, not two days ago, when I realized there was a hole in my soul where the Forest used to be. Tearing me away from Nature is probably, all things obviously considered, one of the worst tortures you can put me under. The trails and mountains have been my cure, my refuge and my sanctuary for enough years now that they are fully integrated into who I am. And now I find that the former simplest of things, going for a trail run, is an unaffordable luxury and an unacceptable risk to my fellow people. Again, slow devastation.

So globally, this is a crisis of health. But for little me, who’s lucky enough to be away enough and prepared enough and safe enough that COVID is mostly a daily background flow of bad news, this is turning into another kind of health crisis. A mental one. 

I think I can say I’m a fairly stable dude. I’m nothing out of the ordinary, just a normal guy with a good life, grateful, happy and surrounded with love. I live by a few basic principles. We are all One. Be nice (or go home). Run Free. Go with the flow. 

I deal with what life brings.

These past couple weeks, though, life has brought something that’s new to me. Something I don’t quite have the tools to deal with, right off the bat. Something that affects my core values and principles. Something I have to learn to live with. A shadow in my mind.

Life has brought anxiety. 

I’m a bit of an old-school guy. I have these ideas about protecting the ones I love, about showing a good example and about being there when others need help. It’s just who I am. I feel the best about myself when I can do these 3 things. They’re a compass of sorts, which guides my opinions, my decisions and my actions. 

In the midst of the COVID crisis, all 3 are out the window. I can’t protect anyone, aside from staying recluse and hoping for the best. The only example I can set is staying recluse and hoping for the best. And I can’t run out and go help others who need it, because the only competence I seem to have right now is my ability to stay recluse and hope for the best.

Slowly, as the days crawled by, an annoying little sentiment has crept into my spirit. It’s a slow realization that I am of no use, right now. I am an immunity sitting duck, nervously swimming around with my little homebound flock, trying to look like I know what I’m doing while I’m hoping for the best. I feel terrible.

None of my qualities, qualifications or capabilities matter right now. My best shot at saving people is staying on my worried ass, writing about my own little anxiety. And that last phrase best sums what further worsens my state of mind; I feel ridiculous.

So I strip of any pride or façade, and I show it like it is. I’m anxious. Nervous. Irritable. Antsy. Worried. I don’t sleep that well. And I’m a little angry at myself. I wish I could do something awesome and save some people from getting sick, or help out in a super-significant way. Mean something when things are dire. But I can’t. Not at this scale, not now.

So... I try to act at another scale. I fix little things around the house. I cook. I tidy up the yard. I try to do my part with the dishes and the other home things. When I feel I’m about to get into other people’s hair, I go away, put some music in the headphones and be quiet for a while. I tell my people I love them and never hold back a hug. I ask how they are, and listen to their answer. I take long, solitary walks with the woman I love. We share how we feel, good or bad. We talk. And things are always better.

I’m slowly discovering that I can keep my anxiety at bay by shedding light on it. I don’t keep it to myself. I don’t act like it’s not there and that everything is all right. I simply talk about it and let others know how I feel.

I’m letting you, my friend, know how I feel. 

And suddenly, things are a little better.