Fury

My COVID test came back positive today, December 4, 2020. 

I was tested on Tuesday Dec 1, 2020.

I have been voluntarily getting tested every two weeks since returning to work five months ago. 

I had a dull earache earlier this week and a minor headache in the morning on Tuesday. I have worked out everyday. I did 600 burpees this a.m. alone. I don’t say this to brag, but to emphasize how okay I have felt all week. 

I went to the RHC today because I thought that maybe I had an ear infection, as I was still experiencing some very minor ear pain and noticed a small bump on one tonsil. 

No ear infection. No sore throat. No fever. Doc said it was most likely allergies. I agreed.

Since the beginning of this Pandemic I have been beyond diligent – following the recommendations of the CDC and science backed research. I am persistent when it comes to mask wearing and social-distancing. I’ve left Bishop only twice since lockdown last March – a visit with a single friend for two days in Santa Barbara – in which we rarely left the apartment –  and a routine dermatology checkup in Carson, returning the same day. My parents have visited twice to help out, and not since we have gone back to in-seat instruction in October – yes, I am a teacher. 

In other words, I don’t take any of this lightly. 

Up until today I would have proclaimed – loudly – that I was one of the safest people to be around. 

And yet…

I still got COVID. 

So many people have been reaching out and asking how I am doing. While sentiment is comforting – the feeling I am experiencing is not. 

In a word:

Fury 

I. Am. Furious.

I am furious that I contracted COVID when I worked so hard to prevent it. That I may have given it to or gotten it from the people I care about the most. 

I am furious that so many around me, and not around me, believe this to be a hoax or something insignificant and overblown. That we can’t protect one another or ourselves because so many refuse to protect us in return. 

I am furious at how science has become demonized and politicized. That a public health crisis has become a partisan one and that you’re considered a “patriot” by far too many for choosing individual liberty over collective compassion.

I am furious at the glaring inequities in this country. That our systems are so broken and we do so little to correct them. That we allow the many to suffer, so the few can benefit. That while I will be okay, thousands upon thousands of others will not. 

I am furious that as a public school teacher my needs – my fellow colleague’s needs – have been looked over, looked down upon, and generally neglected for far too long. That during a pandemic, where the necessity of our nation’s educators has been revealed and laid bare, we continue to be denied the compensation and respect we so rightfully deserve. That we are burnt out – almost beyond repair – and are expected to martyr ourselves for a society that has not and will not do the same for us in return. 

I am furious that we can’t seem to get out of our own way. That we refuse to look inward and examine our own hurts, so that we may refrain from hurting other humans, animals, and our planet. That we accept what doesn’t serve us, and beyond that what actually hurts us, in favor of the easy path. That we can’t seem to radically love ourselves*, even though doing so would save us from ourselves. 

I am furious that I won’t be able to hug my own child or kiss my own partner for over a week. That my daughter, who is three years old, can’t walk hand in hand with her own mother for the duration of that time. That my husband is now a single parent, in all but name, for that time. That this was not a choice we made for ourselves. 

People will say that bad things happen. That this is the way of life.

I will be accused of speaking in absolutes. That in giving voice to truth, I am “sowing discord” and creating divide. 

I call bullshit. 

When we stop looking for solutions to problems in favor of amiability. 

I call bullshit.

When we accept the hurt of others for profit of any kind. 

I call bullshit. 

When we feed into power over instead of stepping into vulnerability.

I call bullshit. 

My fury will dampen 

eventually.

I will come out the other side. 

Do not worry for me dear friends.

I am healing, I am growing. 

Privilege and anxiety have allowed me a grand slumber. 

I am rested.

I am ready. 

I am finally waking up and there is work to do. 

*Reference to the brilliant activist and author Sonya Renee Taylor and her book The Body is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love. Order it from your local book store. Read it. Own it. Live it.