.SOMETIMES RAW.

This tension between what actually is and what I want it to be has been on my mind a lot lately. Besides counting stones in the park. Or pigeons. If two weeks ago, the energy that was pumping through my veins and shooting out of my fingertips was so chaotic I could have combusted and come back as the emoji with an exploding head only to combust again. Last week was, as a direct reaction to the previous week, the precise opposite: deliberately psychologically slower, then this week, I think I am settling, or have settled, into an adjusted state of reality that defines me right now. And it’s got me feeling contemplative. Is this what happens when you give yourself space to think and permission to let your mind run as it will into the uncharted corners of your thoughts where true and fallacies loiter, waiting for both exposure and destruction?

I called my parents the other day and told them I was anxious. They reminded me of what they said when I was nine years old and off from school for six weeks and complained that I was bored. “There is no such thing as boredom, only lazy minds,” but also, “that any changing of scenery requires adjustment”. What I was feeling was not boredom, it was the lull that bridges a packed school schedule and the benign emptiness of six unplanned weeks. They were right. Within days, the mass of formless time started to feel like it was disappearing and before I could savor the quiet, I was back at school. As we get older, they told me, the bridging lulls stop looking like boredom and start to feel more intense. Like panic. Whether they are right or wrong, it made me think that maybe I am not anxious, so I stopped saying I am anxious and now I am not. I don’t think.

Oh, food and going to the grocery store are still the highlight of my day.

But back to that tension. Last Sunday was a bad day. I was confronted rather directly by my integrity as it told me I am not living up to it. And it wasn’t. The negative voices. The uncertainty. Less alone and more understood by my six-year-old? Doesn’t seem like it when your highlight of the day is to take the garbage downstairs and smoke a cigarette. I don’t feel bad for myself, to be clear. I just think about the nurses and doctors out there at this crucial time. I have been saying this a lot lately. I guess because it sounds to me like I am complaining, but I am really not. Or maybe I am but don’t want to be. The point is, I don’t feel bad for myself. I would if I couldn’t see the disparity between me and what I call my integrity. If I kept on, floating above my body detached, too scared to look in the mirror and thus continually self-distracting but his, I think, is precisely what a slower pace brings.

It is Thursday today. I was supposed to go back to work. I had tears of joy in my eyes when work called me. April 2nd. Regaining normality? Not really. Work has been canceled. I have been informed to stay at home this week, too.

On our walk to the grocery store: A car drove by, it moved rather slowly. I wondered if its driver ( a man) is adjusting to a new pace, too. If he is evaluating this period as a silver lining opportunity to examine the features he has either taken for granted or never cared to lift the lid on because he is internalized these features as Things That Are True, or frankly, Not True. That’s what I am doing. And it is worth mentioning that if we can assess this time as a silver lining opportunity, we are very, very lucky. Imagine the frontline heroes, those begging for their lives, or the lives of their loved ones. What a privilege to be able to think: I feel pretty safe where I am.

One time I listened to someone say that to be an icon, you have to actually do the thing that makes you iconic. It seems this is true for whoever, whatever, however you say you are. Except, for being human. We are all that. We might be far from ourselves these days, but we are all human. As Dr. Seuss would say, “Don’t cry because it is over, smile because it happened.” We have become physically separated but psychically connected.

Will we get through this? Yes, we will.

As a writer, self-isolation is nothing new or special to me. Being alone with my thoughts for hours or days is what I love. But, two weeks into quarantine, here are some thoughts that popped up.

What I think about: Am I going to miss my first and favorite season in Vienna/Austria, spring, altogether? Everything is canceled. Which events will be rescheduled and which ones will never happen again or at all? Everyone is going to feel like they need a vacation after this (especially if one they had planned was canceled), but we’re also going to have an economic recession so no one’s going on vacation anytime soon. Is everyone going to be an extrovert for a year? Is everyone going to forget how to behave around other people? If we take before/after photos, how much older will we look by the end (fingers crossed) of this? I am mostly talking about all the parents with children. It’s been more than a week, so how come I can still only do 30, okay 20 pushups? Yoga-Crow-Pose is manageable at this point. Is my dentist still in the office? What if someone had a dental emergency? It must be so weird to be in a profession where you put your hands in people’s mouths right now? What are my deeper, philosophy thoughts at the moment? Are music festivals a thing of the past? Are commencements a thing of the past? What is my password to WordPress? And Amazon? How much can we learn from history to help us? Where is even the best place to start? Is this person not responding to me because they’re trying not to look at their phone or because they’re sick? Will we wish we never posted anything on social media during this time? How much will this experience factor into our process of decision-making in the future? Will we always weigh this when we consider how far we move away from our families, where we decide to live? What’s the shelf life on a pair of pajama pants that you wear every day? Can you hand-wash a towel? A bedsheet? How much should I read to have a realistic sense of what’s going on? How little should I read to prevent myself from completely freaking out? If and when (I wrote this down and then lost my train of thought but I actually think this is an entirely valid question on its own)? If this pandemic “ends,” is it going to resurface again in a few months? Is the first week the worst or is the eighth week the worst? Are we just going to get used to this? When I can pick up the painting I purchased at Galerie KRAS in Vienna?

What I miss: Going to movie theaters and the assumed drink-and recap after the movie. Going to museums and art shows with my friends and our kids. Any dinner conversation at restaurants that keep going way after the check is paid. These days, also signing the check, for some reason. Going to work and hanging out with my friends #LunchhangoutsattheCR. Planning trips. Especially those that include swimming, ocean, and beach. Ordering a Käsekreiner (Austrian sausage with cheese in it), bread and beer at my favorite Würstlstand, being called “Piefke” and hanging out with real Austrians. Also, spending quality time with my friend and artist Geraldine who helped me when things were pretty shitty in my life last year.

What I don’t miss: Feeling guilty for deciding not to go out, ever. TSA agents that yell at to TAKE OUT YOUR LAPTOP and TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES. Buying things from companies I don’t respect when I am being lazy. The U1/U4 train during the morning or afternoon rush. Although, even this has its charms at this point.

What I won’t miss: Cooking every. single. meal or that my thoughts circulate around food, prepping and storing like a planetary ring system. Cooking three times a week= reasonable. Anything more = Excessive. Missing my friends so much while simultaneously feeling burned out on texting/FaceTiming/Skyping with them. Avoiding natural physical contact. Bang-trim purgatory. The phrase “panic buying of toilet paper”. Actually, eliminate the words: toilet paper, social distancing, hand sanitizer, and face masks. Asking my brother Thomas Weiss, CEO of MR Studios on a daily basis to create a virtual face mask for me. I guess he is better working on it at this point. The infinite loop of people feeling pressure to be productive and people telling people not to feel pressure to be productive. Being indecisive about anything happening more than a day in the future. Worrying about whether I am adequately worried.

What I won’t forget: Who was supportive without reservations, to me, my son and to others. Who listened. Who asked how I feel. Who loved me. That I have never seen a sky this blue. Also, that air the smells different and somewhat less polluted. To be grateful for the kind of stability that sometimes bores me. That without the interruptive necessity of having to go to the grocery store, each day is free to stretch out infinitely, bleeding into the next, no obstacles or guardrails. That all my pre-programmed reflexed pertaining to moderation seem to have short-circuited as a result: I cannot stop doing things to excess but try to limit it to reading, writing, cleaning/decluttering. Frantically ticking off every outstanding item on my house chore to-do list. That the publishing date of my 3rd book will be earlier than expected. I won’t forget how I distract myself from my apartment or my own thoughts. But I am glad they still pop up as they do in this time of uncertainty. My brain has something do to, my hands have something to do and my feet still have somewhere to go. Even if it is just to the grocery store.

Hello, 144? I know about the Corona-Virus situation and all that, but I pinched a f****** nerve in my lower back and cannot move. It hurts so much!!! Sorry, I curse more in isolation. I think it is Monday, but I don’t really know. Currently, it’s 10 pm. Can you send an ambulance? Oh, you cannot because it is not really an emergency and you won’t give me an injection. I understand that my case is not really important but still, what can I do? Okay, sounds good but I cannot walk to the pharmacy. I also cannot send my 6-year-old son. I will call a friend, then. Oh, yes I have a son. I am not busy right now since I am laying on the floor unable to move. Are you busy right now? Do you have time to talk a bit until my friend arrives? Nice. How do you feel? Super tired, eh? I figured. Must be busy in the emergency room these days. Damn, you work double-shifts? This is hard, but I am really glad you guys are here for us. Yep, I do understand what you say. [Extreme Vienna Accent]

I understand you have to hang up if someone else calls. Two children? Oh wow, I have enough work with one. Since you have two children, you know how crazy this time is for all of us. What I did before I pinched the nerve? Do you mean all day? I have taken a shower, fired off at least 40 frantic WhatsApp messages to 5 people, one of which was to a co-worker. I have consumed a cup of coffee and finished reading book number 6 since being in isolation. People ask me what I am going to do today and I sent them a floor plan of my 85 square meter apartment. That’s what I am doing. I may move from the kitchen to the living room and back. I walked up the staircase 10 times with my son. Then I made lunch. I really deserved this plate of pasta with salmon sauce after my first highlight of the day: one hour of Intermediate 2 Yoga with this app earlier this morning. My son and I are on our mats next to each other in Downward Facing Dog laughing at each other. Awe, you think this is cute?

Later, we walked to the local organic supermarket Denns which was like the shot of espresso with hope-dust mixed in that I knew I wanted but didn’t realize how badly I needed. This was the second highlight of my day. Have you been able to inhale fresh air today? You would rather be at home with your children? Okay, your husband is with your children at least. My ex-husband didn’t even call or text to ask how his son is doing. Or how I am doing. Work? I do miss work. Did I just say this? I really do. Work, and my routine. This is what I miss the most.

Well, today was not different from yesterday and not different from the day before. I think that is what it’s like when you are in survival mode. I mention it because last night when I was FaceTiming with my mom, she said something like, “To be perfectly honest, I feel more in my element than usual. I am a survivor. We keep it cool here at Homebase.” I wish I could be there right now instead of being here. Here, with a pinched nerve and not able to move or even leave the country. But when she said that, it clicked for me. Her survival mood mentality for a very long time is actually the sensation of living in the heightened state of survival mode where not time exists beyond the time that’s right in front of you. You think so, too? There is no planning beyond the one hour, 12 hours, if you are lucky, 24 hours ahead because there’s not enough information to think further out. Nobody expected anything like this to happen. Or to this extent at least. All you have and all you know is what confronts you at the moment. Like with my pinched nerve. Damn, it hurts. Well, he says he is on his way. He should be here soon. Do you have to hang up? Okay, awesome. Hahah, funny, you like to listen to my story? I should write it all down? Hey, you know what? I might, actually. So, trying to prepare for any period beyond that frame is futile. Too much is changing and it is happening so quickly. You know what I mean? I realize that I am most comfortable in this heightened state of paradoxically routine panic and chaos, too. It can make me feel like a prisoner of my own life when there is no reason to panic. But hey, on Friday, 13th of March, when they announced they will close the United Nations in Vienna, I panicked a bit. All I wanted to do was pick up my son and run home as quickly as possible. You, too? Yeah, must be the mother-thing. My friend does not maintain this quality. He thinks years ahead of me. That’s one of the primary things that I like and what attracts me about him, this sense of psychological freedom I could feel emanating from him.

It was a long day and my reactions to it fluctuate. Maybe I shouldn’t have done the intermediate Yoga class but I have been practicing Yoga for years. I guess some days are clouded by paralyzing energy that is dark and depleting. It puts a question mark at the end of every thought I have and adds a veil of desperation to my every pursuit. Oh, you know what I am trying to say? I am still so charmed that you listen to me throughout this insane time. You do think we will get through this! I hope it won’t take too long. I have been awake for an hour each night for the past week thinking about what will happen. See, if it would be just me, the situation would be different. But it is my son and I. I am responsible for him. And this pinched nerve throws the little bit of sanity we established out of balance.

Yes, we do have food and water. Thank you for asking. My friend is almost here. He just sent me a message that he was able to get the pain medication you recommended. So, let’s hope for the best. My brain is a prison, and anxiety is the warden these days. At this point, this pinched nerve is so painful that I am besieged by an undeniable urge to peel off my skin like the layers of an onion and I find relief in its cool embrace, and I know it took me a long time to finally call and I wasn’t even 100% sure if a pinched nerve qualified as an emergency.

The doorbell rings. He is here. Thank you so much for listening. And thank you for risking your life while saving ours. Keep it up. Have a safe night. And in some odd way, we should even thank the CoronaVirus. For shaking us and showing us that we are dependent on something much bigger than we think. Like the abundance of products, freedom, and health. And realizing we are taking it for granted. To see how lost we were in the “busy-ness” not having time for the most basic things. And for allowing us to put aside all the problems we thought were so important.

Emergency Dispatcher: [let’s call her Frau Fischer]: “Wow, what a nice chat, Daniela. Make sure to keep yourself and your son safe in this crazy time. Also, write about this conversation. I hope you feel better soon!”