Filed under: Corona 2020 | Tags: climat, climate change, collective, collectivite, communite, Corona virus, Covid-19, Ecoles, elementary, eleves, France, Global, global affairs, health, Politics, sacrifice, Sante, schools, Securite, selfish, selfless, societies, society, sympa
“All men’s miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone.” Blaise Pascal
France decided to open up the schools in phases starting May 11th. The first to go back are elementary school kids. Our son is in the equivalent to third grade.
We received a form from our sonâs teacher to fill out on Friday stating whether weâd return our child to school or not so that they could submit it to the Mayorâs office on Monday â today â to begin making plans for the rentrĂ©e. I opted to speak to the teacher about it to see what she thought (she rose exponentially in my estimation since quarantine). She said that not only are spaces limited, the same principles of the confinement remain: the objective is still to keep infection down in order to permit hospitals to tend to those who need help. That there are small children being left at home because they have a single parent who needs to work, or both parents work, or there are children whose parents canât, or wonât, help the kids with their schoolwork. Reopening the school for little ones is an effort to help these kids and their parents. This sealed the deal for me. Yes, Iâm anxious about working with a precocious single child at home. Iâm worried about being able to work, and I also need time alone to replenish myself. With a small child at home, who doesnât seem to be able to be autonomous unless heâs on a screen (watching TV, or a film, or playing an electronic game), which is, perhaps, normal, I donât know, itâs incredibly disruptive for both my husband and me. We consequently argue about who does what and who has done more. (I often end up working after the boy and the man are in bed, going to bed very late, then waking up early when they wake up â Iâm very tired…zzz…).
âKvetchâ aside, I feel relieved with our decision to keep our son home for the âbigger pictureâ (in addition to what seems to be an unnecessary risk for the moment). I think the interesting element to this corona experience â the whole social phenomena’s we’re witnessing will be, I believe, written about sociologically for a long time to come (or until we humans make ourselves extinct), is that at the same time weâre isolated from each other, forced to distance physically from each other, weâre thinking about each other now more than ever. Or MUST think about each other now more than ever. We must work together to ensure the survival of our species, and the way to do that is to distance ourselves from others when possible. Itâs not just ourselves and our own interests weâre thinking about for the first time in a long time. Weâre being asked to consider everyone when limiting contacts, our potential exposure to the virus (with outings, errands, plans, etc.), washing hands. Even wearing a mask is a sign of consideration, a, âIâm helping YOU keep safeâ sort-of-thing. Itâs quite lovely, actually, when you think of it this way. It makes one feel less alone, more purposeful, and, arguably, reinforces the argument that humans are worth saving (perhaps).
“Toutes les misĂšres des hommes dĂ©rivent de ne pas pouvoir s’asseoir seuls dans une piĂšce calme.” Blaise Pascal
La France a dĂ©cidĂ© d’ouvrir les Ă©coles par phases Ă partir du 11 mai. Les premiers Ă y retourner sont les enfants des Ă©coles Ă©lĂ©mentaires. Notre fils est dans l’Ă©quivalent de la troisiĂšme annĂ©e.
Vendredi, nous avons reçu un formulaire de l’enseignant de notre fils indiquant si nous devions retourner notre enfant Ă l’Ă©cole ou non afin qu’il puisse le soumettre au bureau du maire lundi – aujourd’hui – pour commencer Ă planifier la rentrĂ©e. J’ai choisi d’en parler au enseignante pour voir ce qu’elle en pensait (elle a augmentĂ© de façon exponentielle Ă mon avis depuis la confinement). Elle a dit que non seulement les espaces sont limitĂ©s, mais les mĂȘmes principes de confinement demeurent: l’objectif est toujours de limiter l’infection afin de permettre aux hĂŽpitaux de soigner ceux qui ont besoin d’aide. Qu’il y a des petits enfants Ă la maison parce qu’ils ont un parent seul qui doit travailler, ou les deux parents travaillent, ou qu’il y a des enfants dont les parents ne peuvent pas, oĂč ne vont pas, aider les enfants dans leurs devoirs. La rĂ©ouverture de l’Ă©cole pour les tout-petits est un effort pour aider ces enfants et leurs parents. Cela a scellĂ© l’accord pour moi. Oui, je suis impatient de travailler avec un enfant cĂ©libataire prĂ©coce Ă la maison. Je suis inquiet de pouvoir travailler et j’ai aussi besoin des temps tout seul pour me reconstituer. Avec un petit enfant Ă la maison, qui ne semble pas capable d’ĂȘtre autonome Ă moins d’ĂȘtre sur un Ă©cran (regarder la tĂ©lĂ©vision, un film ou jouer Ă un jeu Ă©lectronique), ce qui est peut-ĂȘtre normal, je ne sais pas , c’est incroyablement perturbant pour mon mari et moi. Par consĂ©quent, nous discutons de qui fait quoi et qui a fait plus. (Je finis souvent par travailler aprĂšs que le garçon et l’homme soient au lit, se couchant trĂšs tard, puis se rĂ©veillant tĂŽt quand ils se rĂ©veillent – je suis trĂšs fatiguĂ© … zzz …).
«Kvetch» ââmis Ă part, je me sens soulagĂ© de notre dĂ©cision de garder notre fils Ă la maison pour la «vue d’ensemble» (en plus de ce qui semble ĂȘtre un risque inutile pour le moment). Je pense que l’Ă©lĂ©ment intĂ©ressant de cette expĂ©rience corona – l’ensemble des phĂ©nomĂšnes sociaux auxquels nous assistons sera, je crois, Ă©crit sur le plan sociologique pendant longtemps Ă venir (ou jusqu’Ă ce que nous, les humains, nous nous Ă©teignions), c’est qu’en mĂȘme temps nous ‘nous sommes isolĂ©s les uns des autres, forcĂ©s de s’Ă©loigner physiquement les uns des autres, nous pensons plus que jamais les uns aux autres. Ou DOIT penser les uns aux autres maintenant plus que jamais. Nous devons travailler ensemble pour assurer la survie de notre espĂšce, et la façon de le faire est de nous Ă©loigner des autres lorsque cela est possible. Ce n’est pas seulement nous-mĂȘmes et nos propres intĂ©rĂȘts auxquels nous pensons pour la premiĂšre fois depuis longtemps. On nous demande de tenir compte de tout le monde lors de la limitation des contacts, de notre exposition potentielle au virus (avec sorties, courses, projets, etc.), du lavage des mains. MĂȘme le port d’un masque est un signe de considĂ©ration, une sorte de chose «je t’aide Ă rester en sĂ©curité». Câest plutĂŽt joli, en fait, quand on y pense de cette façon. Cela fait que l’on se sent moins seul, plus rĂ©solu et, sans doute, renforce l’argument selon lequel les humains valent la peine d’ĂȘtre sauvĂ©s (peut-ĂȘtre).
Filed under: In Vino Veritas, In Aqua Sanitas | Tags: alcohol, anxiety, Children, depression, global affairs, human dynamics, humanity, intellect, liver, Mean Girls, mediocrity, melancholy, mental health, society, stress, Tennessee Williams
Depression is melancholy minus its charms – the animation, the fits. Susan Sontag
My mind has been playing tricks on me all day. I almost convinced myself that my bad liver was a result of my candy intake. Seriously. For a moment, it seemed real. So real, that it almost justified my drinking at 9am. The rest of the day, Iâve been thinking that Iâll try to make it through fifteen more years. Thatâs the goal. Ten to see my son off to university, then five more years to have fun, do what I want, potentially decimate my body. Then, like a cat when its ready to die, Iâll quietly go off somewhere by myself. These morbid thoughts give me comfort. I think, âI can make it through today…â Then, âI can make it through the next year…â Then, âI can make it for ten more…I think…â âThatâs all, thatâs all…â But that âallâ is everything.
Itâs horrible to feel this way. Itâs heavy and dark and bitter and mean and uncomfortable. I want to escape me. Barring that, I want to go to bed and pull the covers over my head and just pass time. The day, the year, the ten years, the fifteen. However, there are always people around me. My husband would interrupt this. Not because he would be concerned, but because it would annoy him that I was in bed âlolling aboutâ while he was taking care of our child, our house, and âbusiness.â Then, of course, thereâs my son. My precocious, sweet, talkative boy who hums and sings to himself as he skips up the stairs, heads out the door, or plays by himself. He zones in on me like Iâm a beacon whenever heâs home and demands I engage with him. Not in a pushy, aggressive manner, but because he likes me and wants to show me things, talk to me about what he has seen or done, and to hear what I have to say about it. Heâs still cuddly, even as I can see the man that he will become, and heâs way too big for me to lift up. I try to engage with him. To pay attention to what heâs saying. I try to put a smile on my face. I try to pretend not to be me for him.
Itâs entirely for him that Iâm not drinking and inhaling to my heartâs desire. Or staying in bed all day. Or running away to somewhere else more suited to my real self. Somewhere dirty, large, and anonymous. Heâs the reason I stay. Heâs the reason I try at all. Heâs the reason I will make myself go to the grocery store to get food, even as I absolutely dread the inevitable prospect of running into someone I know. Heâs also the reason that we have any semblance of a social life. As an only child, or a âuniqueâ as the French say, he wants playmates. As a naturally curious and social boy, he wants company and activity around him. As heâs still very young, he canât arrange them or go by himself, and his father is unconcerned with having a social life, happy, instead, to be a homebody. So, I must arrange âplay datesâ and social plans. Then, I must stay for a âhello,â and a âhow are you?â and sometimes a cup or glass of something to be friendly. However, I find these interactions very hard. I feel as though I am perpetually masquerading as a ânormalâ person, and consequently, am such a fraud. I donât know how to have small talk when Iâm sober, and I know people donât want me to launch into âseriousâ talk, which is a âdowner.â Having to interact with adults and children alike is painful and anxiety provoking for me. And now thereâs no reprieve from the stress of it all.
Moreover, âthe slings and arrowsâ of children and their parentsâ politics are very hard for me to observe, digest, and remain calm about. âCookie cutterâ type kids and their parents are popular. Theyâre confident about asserting themselves. The kids spot the âAchilles heelâ of any child and exploit it cruelly. The other kids gravitate to these types. Prompting me to wonder if there isnât some truth to the idea that people, in general, do like dictators â someone to tell them what to do and how to be. Tennessee Williams notes in âNight of the Iguanaâ that humans are the only creatures that wonât do anything to get out of a trap, such as bite off a foot or an arm. The kids âfisty cuffsâ are generally all forgotten relatively quickly, but itâs terrible to watch when you consider that these human propensities begin early. Ugh, and the little clusters of cliques, with those who are the âhenchmenâ to the popular kids often being the meanest. Girls seem to be the worst. Or the best, depending on how you look at it. I think of the film âMean Girlsâ frequently. Even among the hierarchies of adults. I hate observing these dynamics. It âwinds me up.â It makes me feel like Iâm in grade school or high school all over again. I hated those years. I felt like a captive.
I keep looking for justice and signs of human thoughtfulness: to notice the person who picks up after himself when leaving the cinema. Or notice the car that uses only one parking space. Or notice the person who lets someone in front of them in the line at the grocery âcause they only have three items and the other person a trolley full of goods. Or see âthe chancerâ get fired summarily. But itâs so hard to do when I feel so fucking bad. And, it often makes things worse âcause I donât see these things everyday and then Iâm angry. Then, like the masochist I am, I sling abuse at myself for being âso negative.â I tell myself that itâs MY fault that I see the âbadâ things about people in the world! Iâm sending out that âenergyâ and itâs causing a reverb by bringing negativity to me!â âIf I could only change my perspective then it would all be fine. All would be different.â âItâs how I see things thatâs the problem.â âItâs me. I suck. Iâm horrible, beastly, angry, critical, and judgmental.â âI should relax and not think âtooâ much.â Problem is, the only way I donât think too much is to ingest a mind-altering substance. If Iâm to make it another fifteen years, I canât. Itâs already âdiceyâ that Iâll make it that far with what Iâve already done to myself.
And thatâs when I want to spend my day in bed. Itâs then that I see little point in venturing out into the world. Itâs then that I return to the idea that Iâve had a good run and Iâm eager to be done with it. Iâm tired of watching imposters get ahead. Iâm tired of bullies dominating society â both on a micro and macro level. Of mediocrity reigning. Of the rise of pride in ignorance and the consequent disdain of intellect. Of no one really giving a shit about anything. Iâm tired of it all. Iâm tired of me.