I’m a 57-year old widow. So social/physical distancing is normal for me. Welcome to the party, pal.
My husband died suddenly 15 years ago. We were unable to have kids despite years of trying and I have been living alone since 2004. But I am not alone. I have two cats, three siblings and more than a few good friends. I am also among the approximately 30 percent of all households in America that are composed of one person.
“In the US, the share of adults who live alone nearly doubled over the last 50 years. This is not only happening in the US: single-person households have become increasingly common in many countries across the world, from Angola to Japan,” according to an article from Our World in Data.
Too often, the “stigma” of living alone is somehow heard as “loneliness.” While loneliness is a significant reality for too many people, alone is not the same as lonely. I am a UX researcher for a global organization. While many think of what I do as “usability testing,” the bulk of my work should be called empathy research. Being able to understand and share how another human feels is what I strive to do every day. But as the novel coronavirus has literally taken us to new levels, I am struck daily by the reports from around the world of how unprepared people are to really live with … the people they live with.
And yes, I get it. When your kids are in school all day and you and your spouse/significant other rarely see each other during waking hours, it must be quite a shock to realize there are other human beings you live with. But for those of us who willingly or unwillingly are on our own every day, hearing about the “struggle” to live with loved ones is comic - to a point. I am trying to work out and explain my difficulty empathizing with those who are “struggling” on this account.
I do realize that if my husband were still alive he would be in the highest risk group. Had he survived the multiple heart attacks he suffered, he would be turning 61 this year. We would likely be at our wits end dealing with one another. He has not been gone so long that I don’t recall a few heated discussions over territory, not to mention who was doing all the cooking and cleaning (he was). I also recall that having our own space - physically and mentally - was always an important aspect to our relationship and that we were able to respect each other enough to not be threatened by it or to ever take it for granted.
I think of him every time the discussion turns to what this country is hoarding. Let’s take the toilet paper obsession as one example. He played softball during the summer and always had a roll of toilet paper in the trunk - because he could never count on the field facilities to be properly stocked.I have plenty of toilet paper today - as I always have (for the next few months anyway). But I realize that schools, gyms, restaurants and office buildings have been our primary toilet paper supplier for many decades. So if everyone is using the home loo, sparing a square is a real necessity now. But what does that say about the world we live in? We spend so much more time away from our homes - whether in buildings or in transit - than in them - doesn’t it make you wonder what we’ve been doing all this time?
Both my parents and my in-laws are dead and my heart aches for anyone that has to “distance” themselves from their elderly parents or grandparents. But when we don’t have a care system that supports end of life discussions or an ability to care for our elders at home - when nursing homes are the only option because full time care isn’t possible any other way, what does that say about our priorities as human beings?
As I contemplate what is happening to my country - and have been for a few years now - I realize that every day I must be thankful for how lucky I am, while empathizing with those that do not share my circumstances. I am mighty grateful for all medical professionals who put their patients before themselves; for the “essential” workers at our take-out joints, pet shops and grocery stores who continue to work despite the dangers. I am grateful for my family, friends and co-workers - without whom I cannot imagine keeping my sanity. But I am most grateful for working journalists, who go out every day with no agenda other than to report the facts. We as a nation owe you so much. I only hope we can repay you someday.
I almost forgot to mention how grateful I am to Nancy Pelosi, who has stayed focused on making lawmakers accountable. She is simply demanding (as only a strong woman can) that the men in charge be transparent and responsible for the decisions they are [supposedly] making on our behalf. Specially when the consequences of Trump’s 70 days of denial, the Midwest Republican grandstanding and the national GOP millionaire rewards system becomes more and more evident every day.
In the meantime, I pray we stay well and we find a way to beat this new virus. Until then, I will stay six feet away - to ensure no one I interact with ends up six feet under due to my thoughtlessness. I will pity anyone who continues to think that Trump is worth supporting. Our democracy cannot survive another four years if that reality TV show host is reelected. I don’t hate Trump - I hate misinformation and I hate what happens when people refuse to analyze why they believe what they believe. I understand why people support Trump. But I also want them to know there is another way. Our country needs leadership and someone who actually understands how a democracy not only operates, but survives in times of crisis, as well as peace and prosperity.
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