Message No. 1480

Thursday, May 7, 2020 at 11:11:39 PM EDT

I live in Washington, DC. I will be 29 tomorrow, and it feels hollow to be celebrating another year of life while so many are sick and dying.

I grew up an only child in a very dysfunctional home, and this birthday is reinforcing feelings of isolation. My friends are my family and shaped me in to the person I am today. Without community, I would have never been able to pick up the pieces of a broken childhood and (work toward) creating a healthy adult life. Being away from chosen community during this time is hard. It’s hard to watch friends have parents fall ill and know we won’t all be able to mourn together should the worst happen. It’s hard, when my anxiety disorder and mental illnesses re-emerge, to not have the same life boat of community I have always had.

I’ve tried to channel my feelings of isolation into volunteering and making sure the mostly elderly and black folks in my neighborhood have the tools they need to stay healthy.

On my 29th year I’m grateful I’m alive. I’m grateful my family-both genetic and chosen- has not been decimated by this virus. And I’m attempting to commit to another year of breaking down walls of isolation created by this virus and long-standing social and economic systems thru active solidarity with my neighbors and with those who share my vision of a brighter, healthier and more just future.
Here’s to a future I know will be better.


Call No. 1072

Sunday, April 12, 2020 at 8:09:45 PM EDT

I know that these are times where we wonder what’s going to happen with us. And I keep reflecting that I have lived a good life. I have wonderful adult children, and if it is my time to go that I have no regrets. The only regret that I do have is that we have not found a cure for this. And I do hope one day that we can look back and realize how precious life is.


Message No. 857

Sunday, April 12, 2020 at 2:41:38 PM EDT

For me, the most prominent reaction I had was denial, not in the sense that I didn’t acknowledge the virus exists, but more like – even with all these changes, I can still live my life as normal, just with less face to face interaction. I was trying to reassure my family that all these changes were fine, even when they were really not, so I acted like nothing affected me. However, my facade of indifference has cracked at the oddest times: in my first conference call for work, I had a panic attack; I cried listening to happy songs; I did a video conference with some kids from my youth group, and I teared up once I saw their faces. I still am not ready to express my grief to my family, and I probably won’t ever be ready for that, so I’m so very thankful for this space.

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