Feeling Alone During the Pandemic

Another day.

Another day that looks the same as the ones preceding it. I can hardly tell the days apart anymore. 

Does it really matter? I spend most days alone.

Loneliness in a pandemic feels different somehow. I can’t quite articulate why, but there’s an invisible weight present. Is it that there’s another layer of uncertainty in the air?

The longing for connection seems more impassable and out of reach. The physical barriers between us, the newly learned way of keeping our distance from each other, add to the feeling of disconnect and isolation.

But it’s crucial for my mental and emotional health to leave the confines of my home. So I go out for daily walks and seek out peace among nature.

Whenever  I remember to, I observe and admire the beingness of the sky, trees, plants, and  flowers. They seem so good at just being, existing, untroubled by what’s happening in the world.

On this day, I’m on one of my favourite paths in the city. I choose a bench shaded by trees. Branches and leaves framing the sky.

I take in the scenery around me, and with the gentle melody of Bach playing in my ears, I close my eyes, try to be still, to quiet my mind, and to just be.

I tilt my face skyward, savour the soothing summer breeze when suddenly I see light flash a couple times before my still-closed eyes.

The sunlight – peeking between the leaves hanging above me. It seems to be calling me, telling me something.

Tears start flowing from my eyes, wetting the edge of my mask, as I give thanks for the words I needed to hear on this day and everyday:

“I’m here. I’m here.”