Welp, We Caught The Plague

We managed to escape COVID for two years, but it finally caught up with us. We did everything we could have – KN95s everywhere, fully vaccinated and boosted, didn’t travel or hang out with friends, kept ourselves as isolated as possible – but the bastard still wormed it’s way in.

My initial reaction was denial. I was able to semi-deny it right up until I got a text that my PCR test came back positive. Then my reaction became absolute despair. I know, it seems dramatic, but I was devastated and terrified. For the last several years, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid this virus, and yet I failed and still got it. And never – not once – did I envision me getting it and being okay. I’m fat as hell – I really figured if I got COVID, I’d have some complication due to my weight and it would be really bad for me. So I was terrified.

Then I got mad. Because, while I did get a little sick, I didn’t get sick sick. I’ve definitely felt worse. It turns out that if you’re fully vaccinated you really can only get mildly sick. And the anger bubbled up. All this time, all this energy spend avoiding this? All the pain I’ve been through the last few years? All for an over-glorified head cold? What the fuck? It was infuriating.

And I know, logically, that I’m lucky that I only experienced mild illness. That this virus has killed millions of people around the world and I spent all that time and energy avoiding it not only because it was scary, but because it was the responsible thing to do for the health of the community. But I can’t help and feel a little jaded about this whole situation. Like the pact I struck with the universe – I play my part, keep myself away from others and be responsible and, in return, I stay safe from the virus – was violated.

Life's not fair, is it? - A Quote from Scar from the Lion King

I don’t quite know what lessons I’m pulling out of this yet. Perhaps I need to re-evaluate the information I take in on a regular basis so it’s a little less sensational. I know that being well-informed is important, but knowing every possible outcome and detail of the virus and how it could affect me gave me unending anxiety. And because of that anxiety, I missed out on a lot. I lost a lot. I hurt a lot. And if I’d been maybe less hyper-informed perhaps I would have saved myself a lot of pain.

This could also be a call to myself to think more positively about life and the situations that arise. The fact that me being okay never was a possibility to me is sad. I’ve always thought myself a realist as opposed to a pessimist, but maybe I need to practice thinking positively about the future more often. I know only so much of how I perceive and can approach things is within my control – hello, mental illness – but if I can try and willingly reframe how I think about situations and try to find more positive outcomes, maybe I’ll be less anxious and more hopeful. Happier.

I’m kind of looking forward to the future now. The biggest, scariest thing I could think of happened and I’m okay. I’m feeling kind of invincible.

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