Right now, I am very engaged with writing fiction and working as an ER nurse, but everything else – not so much. I’m constantly questioning whether this blog has outlived its usefulness, yet I stubbornly hang on and wonder why it’s become so difficult.
Lack of bandwidth, I believe. What, exactly do I mean by that? Well, I think it all started back in mid-March, and my personal repercussions from what I took part in are still being felt.
I’ve learned to re-engage with work and creativity, but the toll of the pandemic has been to reduce my engagement with the world. I only have so much bandwidth and apparently this fucking disease has reduced it substantially.
Too much exposure to meaningless death. Too much energy spent trying to mute my own existential vulnerability to the virus, even as I’m swimming in it for each 12 and a half hour shift. Mind you, I think I’m one of the best adjusted – the toll it’s taken on my colleagues is heartbreaking to witness.
I’ve had a front row seat to the outbreak of a historic pandemic in one of the world’s greatest cities. I took a hands-on role in all its pain, suffering, and death, and it’s all I can do to maintain my equilibrium. I’m a resilient motherfucker, but let’s be clear.
It comes with a price.