March 29, 2020

My cousin, a psychologist in Madison, Wisconsin, told me I needed to start journaling. She told me that, without an analyst, it may be wise to start recording my thoughts for future evaluation. So on a crisp, sunny day in Ashtabula, Ohio, hunkered down and social-distancing in a townhouse—graciously lent by my girlfriend's aunt and uncle—I'll begin.

Last night I woke up to a crash of thunder. With blinds closed, the soundtrack of the storm banged away like bacchanalian orchestral drums, and I was wide awake. I instinctively reached for my phone, which has become a crutch as of recent. I opened my New York Times app and read through the front-page article, an expose of the horrors of Covid-19. I read about an EMS worker who, though having called off work to take care of his sick wife, was needed to help with the deluge of 911 calls. He went to work, transporting virus-stricken New Yorkers to the hospital, risking his own life—but when he returned, his wife was dead.

The thunder rolled on. Images I'd read about or seen on videos uploaded to Twitter spun about my mind. Patients gasping for breath; doctors intubating a patient with a splatter of blood on her pillow; freezer-trucks backed up the a hospital exit to collect bodies; the national guard piecing together makeshift morgues. I couldn't sleep, and dehydrated from the IPAs I've been drinking to calm the anxiety, got up to drink a glass of water from the bathroom sink.

I was up for a few hours, bickering with a guy named Daniel Dumbrill (a YouTuber who has gained popularity since the outbreak, and who is something of a pro-China partisan)  on Twitter  about the transparency of the Chinese government during the Covid-19 outbreak. I fell back to sleep around six.

The days "in shelter" go achingly fast, and I accomplish achingly little. I saw today on Twitter that Fox News has been recommending to its viewers that, during this time, they have a schedule and "get dressed." I'm probably not the only one who is finding it difficult to structure my days in any meaningful way.

For now, I continue online teaching, but for how long is unknown. Despite the fact that China is refusing all foreigners at this point, a college shared a message from our Center Principal that read, "We cannot continue with online teaching. The parents have paid for in-class teachers." He does not seem to realize the severity of the situation here, and that itself has been a major stressor.

I'm going to go for a run and lesson plan.