When our lives change
I check one laptop and then the other. I read the news, political statements, Twitter and pay attention to the number of infected and dead in Italy, Spain, and Slovenia. Other, unknown times were here. I am rarely alone in quarantine, and I am putting a lot of effort into having five minutes for myself. Sounds funny? More surreal.
I am just one of those working partially from home during the quarantine but comes to the office a few days a week. And I am not talking about writing and testing toys for my blog. Maybe one day I could do only that for a living. But unfortunately, I am not there yet. And so I face anxiety when I have to drive to work. It is more potent than usual.
When the quarantine was declared, I thought it would be an opportunity for my head to rest. In the safety of my room, I will solve the world's problems from my bed. Since there will be enough time, I will write articles, and reviews for my blog, do yoga, and eat Nutella with a spoon. I thought I will be in my pajamas, but without any underwear. The closet is full of toys waiting for me to use and test them. It was supposed to be like a mini-vacation. I will finally have time for myself. Of course, I forgot that panic attacks and anxiety would quietly creep on me from behind.
When I have to go to work, a panic attack hits me. My day starts early in the morning. Before these strange times, I was drinking coffee in peace and quiet (it was the best part of the day), but now me and my family start the day with news on the radio. But not just any news - we are interested in everything related to coronavirus. I get dressed slowly, and while doing so, I pay attention not to walk around the apartment with my shoes, not to touch the hooks, not to scratch my face. The second wave of news reaches me when I am driving, and even though I already know everything, I just can't turn the attention from the journalist's worried voice. It is like a drug.
When I get to the office, I wash my hands, disinfect surfaces, disinfect my hands, and start working. I don't have a break because I'm afraid to drink coffee outside and smoke a cigarette. I wait for my nicotine deficiency to pass. When I leave the office at four in the afternoon, I disinfect my hands again, even though I have done so at least five times during work. In front of the car, I finally light a cigarette with my disinfected hands. For that tinny moment, I am at peace.
On the way home, I am again surrounded with news, songs like The end of the World, Wake me up when September ends, and so on. In my head, I am preparing for the exercise I will need to do when I get home: don't touch your face, hooks, handles, rush to the bathroom, wash and disinfect your hands, go to the shower. Only then am I completely calm for the rest of the day.
Watching people's tired faces hoping this period will pass as soon as possible, has become my new reality. We can't wait to drink a glass of wine in the bar again and talk with someone close to you in person.
We are in the second week of quarantine; my hair is ruffled, my nails are a mess, my legs are hairy, and my hands are sore from excessive use of disinfectant. I treat my anxiety and headaches with orgasms. When the apartment is empty for fifteen minutes, I afford myself a bit of fun when the parents go for a short walk. It is fast and sweet. I also found out that Netflix can be beneficial. I leave the movie running, so my parents can hear the voices, but in the meantime, I am playing with my button.
When I'm not editing the blog or doing things for work or testing toys, I let myself be bombarded from all sides with news that leads to anxiety and panic attacks. Although I planned a slightly different article for my blog's first anniversary, the times, we currently live in don't allow it. This is in my DNA and my current state of mind. Orgasms offer me some sort of safety, and I enjoy it. Nevertheless, I hope that the quarantine will pass as soon as possible.