Stay on these roads

Dear future hubster,

I hope you're well. I really do. I never put this line in emails because honestly, why would the other person not be well, but right now, all I want to know first thing of everybody is whether they are ok. 

I hope you have enough food even if it's getting boring, and toilet paper, or replacement. I hope you're safe, don't need medical attention, but would have access to it if you did. And I hope you have people to talk to, since we weren't smart enough to exchange numbers before this happened.

I know there's this poem out there about the people staying home and reading and listening and exercising and healing. I know we're all trying to make sense of this all, put some meaning where there isn't any, because otherwise we might go crazy much faster. I know we're looking on the bright side and trying to make the best of a difficult situation.

I just hope you know, hope we all know and don't forget to acknowledge that that's what this is. A difficult situation. It's scary, it's sad, it's hard. And there's no shame in saying that. There's no shame in admitting that we're worried about pretty much everybody we ever met (and occasionally about future spouses we haven't met), that we are sick of being part of a major historical event, that we are personally offended by all cancelled plans, even though we understand that it is for the better. It's okay to feel the loss we're experiencing.

You know what else is okay? Not doing more. More of anything. I know we're getting the impression that this is a great time to reinvent ourselves and do everything we normally don't have time for, and bring out Our Real Selves, and frankly I don't know whom that is directed to. Most of us either work full time from home, or have children to take care of, or both, and those who don't probably have just lost their source of income so they might not be in the mood for taking up online pottery classes right now. Anxiety is tiring, not knowing how much longer we have to worry even more so, and not knowing what the future will look like can be downright terrifying. If you don't have the energy to learn Arabic now, don't. This is not a study leave we decided to take. This is a lockdown to save us from things that are worse than this lockdown. Best we can do is to sit it out. Actually, quite literally that's sort of the only thing we can do. And there's no recipe on how to do it well: we will only know how we've done when we're after it. Once it's over. 

And it will be. One day the sun will come out.

So stay on my love. We shall meet, I know. 

When it all falls, when it all falls down

Dear future hubster,

since half of the world has already gone into lockdown and it's only a matter of time till the other half follows suit, we've heard truckload of advice on what to do and what not to do.

Take care of the elderly. But preferably from a distance. Don't wear a mask, unless. Don't go outside, but stay healthy. Preferably active. Wash your hands and clean your phone and if you have a spouse and 4 or more children then sorry but somebody will have to leave. Get used to it but also don't give in. Find healthy coping mechanisms - which I'm afraid my neighbour thinks includes constant singing, and unfortunately they are not a good singer and our bathrooms are spookily connected so I can hear them through the pipes. What is healthy for one might be mildly unpleasant for the other.

However. When you do all of those things and cook your increasingly boring meals and drink your coping mechanism liquor and watch all the documentaries available and call into work meetings in PJs, here's one request.

Think about those who are alone. Not sick, not old, not out of toilet paper, just by definition of social distancing, alone. 

I know we all think this is an introvert paradise, and it is, with all the don't go anywhere and don't talk to anybody, and we get to read all the books we've been eyeing, and watch all the shows and write all the PhD applications, but it turns out that even introverts like to decide when they want to withdraw. More importantly, they need to withdraw and be by themselves when they've had too much interaction and stimuli. Now "too much" might mean something else for every introvert, but on average it's more than zero. 

So when you feel like it's day 200 of home office when in reality it's been only 2, or when your flatmate, parent, significant other, stranded stranger gets on your nerves, check on your party-poopers, bookworms, dinner party hosts, social butterflies. The world is a crazy place right now, and nobody knows what, how, and when next. It's a lot to handle for everybody, and sometimes it could be just a little bit too much to handle it alone.

So send your borderline bad taste memes, call the people you normally don't when you think about them, drop a line, have e-drinks on Fridays, have Skype cooking sessions, watch movies "together", KEEP IN TOUCH. 

Speaking as one of those introverts, I can tell you, that's what I miss already. Touching, poking, nudging people. 

And once this is all over, I'm going to hug the living hell out of everybody who lets me. Ok maybe only those I actually know. 

Until then, I'll be very happy to receive your penguin (cat, llama, hippo) videos.