What a long day. Yesterday I spoke about, upon my sister’s recommendation, stocking up on food and supplies for my family. For the next month. Because of COVID-19. Well, today was more of the same, since Walmart didn’t have many of the things on our list last night. This afternoon my dad and I went to Sam’s (which, incidentally, was seriously picked over in terms of chicken, beef, and paper products), Aldi’s (where we found chicken thighs at one location and dog food at another), and Walmart (where we finally found chicken breasts, ground beef, ground turkey, and pot roast). This after I went to Walmart (for a prescription), the health food store (for elderberries), and Target (for distilled water) this morning.

In the midst of my running around, I had an hour-long discussion about COVID-19 with my best friend Justin. I always call Justin whenever I want to know something because he’s super smart, well-informed, and level-headed. And whereas I don’t have time and it’s outside the purview of this blog to relay everything he said, Justin basically said, yes, stock up so that you can comfortably survive a quarantine, limit exposure, and avoid the madness. “The last thing you want is to be standing in line at the pharmacy waiting on your blood pressure medication with everyone coughing on you,” he said.

This makes sense to me. So thanks to my sister and Justin, I’ve now spent the last two days preparing. Granted some people refer to preparing as panicking, but there’s a distinct difference. There’s a lot of middle ground, room for common sense. Because I’ve been to half a dozen grocery stores in the last two days, my common sense tells me it’s smart to take this seriously. Pandemics don’t fuck around, especially if you’re in certain age and/or health categories, and neither do scared/worried/concerned citizens who want to be able to wipe their butts during a pandemic.

I’m trying to tell you that toilet paper is almost impossible to find.

But don’t worry. “French people have been living without toilet paper for centuries,” Justin said. “It’s called a bidet.”

As Crocodile Dundee said, “To wash your backside, right?!”

This evening my parents and I spent a couple hours rearranging our refrigerator and freezer and getting everything we bought today put on shelves in our pantry. Of course, my mom has already started a list of things we forgot. Ugh, you don’t realize how much stuff you use and depend upon until you start thinking that stuff may soon be difficult to come by. Anyway, I’m worn out. It’s been a full day of go, go, go, and I’m spent. At the same time, I’m still wired, thinking, What else do we need to do? Alas, at some point, after all our hand washing, all we can do is wait. Yes, we can be prepare, take good care of ourselves. (“Getting good sleep is essential to a strong immune system,” Justin reminded me.) But we can’t control everything, certainly not a virus. (They don’t historically take orders from well.) At some point we have to surrender. At some point we have to admit that we’re human. Vulnerable. Temporary.

Even if it’s not from this, sooner or later, we all have to go.

This being said, more and more I’m believing in our bodies’ phenomenal capacity to not only adapt but also to heal. Earlier this week I did EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) on a major car accident I was in when I was fourteen, which for over twenty-five years has left me feeling “vulnerable.” Well, the major message I got from my body during the EMDR treatment was, “We know what to do.” I wish I could adequately convey how deeply I felt and heard this, that my physical organism wanted me to know, “We have good instincts, we’re smart, we know how to survive, we know how to get through things and be better after the worst has happened.”

Of course, I was like, “Who, me?”

This really has been the longest journey, coming to trust myself, coming to believe that I’ve come equipped with everything I need to “make it” on earth. And yet I am coming to believe this. Not just because I read it in a book somewhere a long time ago or because my therapist says, but because I’ve experienced it in my being. And whereas I know the path I’ve taken isn’t the path for everyone (or even anyone) else, I do wish everyone this same knowing. Even if, in the beginning, it’s just a hoping. The conviction that no matter what happens, no matter how ugly things get, we’re going to be okay.

At least in our souls, if not in our bodies.