Waiting to Exhale
Years ago, a movie was made by this same title. It was about four women, all extraordinarily successful, “holding their breaths” until the day they could feel comfortable in a committed relationship. The movie showed just how uncomfortable each woman was, all in different ways. The overall sense of life for these four was one of just waiting for the day when they could take that breath, drop their shoulders back into a more normal position, and focus on something other than what they were holding their breaths for in the first place.
As I was walking this morning, I caught sight of fellow walkers out with their dogs. While navigating the neighborhood streets, I realized every time I came near another person, I held my breath. My unconscious reflex was to literally stop breathing. As I noticed myself doing this, I saw the title “Waiting to Exhale” cross my mind like an airplane pulling a banner through the sky. And then it hit me, we are all in this same place. We are collectively waiting to exhale. We are holding our breaths until the danger all around us passes.
But what if the danger does not pass?
The second thought that crowded out my first one was what if all that we are experiencing today doesn’t end? I’m talking about the limited ability to move about our country, and the world, people getting sick and dying, kids not being able to go back to a classroom, and not being able to enjoy the company of strangers. You know, the good old days. Isn’t it funny, and strange watching a movie made before 2020 and feeling a sense of sadness to see all those people shaking hands, hugging one another, eating in a crowded restaurant, going to the movies, and taking for granted the ability to walk around breathing like normal? I don’t know about you, but in addition to making me sad, it also creates a sense of nostalgia. I can’t help but wonder if we will ever be able to move about as freely as we used to. Or, has this year permanently changed us like other significant events in history changed others who came before us?
My grandparents for instance lived through WWII. My grandfather was an airplane mechanic. They were the most frugal people I have ever met. Even when they did not need to be so tight with money, it was just their default. They saved everything and repurposed it for another use. My grandfather loved his cigars and the boxes they came in would later hold screws and bolts, washers, and nails. My grandmother reused plastic bags like the ones that Wonder bread arrived in. They became containers for holding wild blackberries or persimmons. They also turned lights off every time they left a room. They did not waste food. That was a mortal sin. They made only the amount of food needed for a single meal, and if by chance there were leftovers, these were eaten for lunch the next day.
I know that living through the war changed them forever. Will living through this Pandemic change me forever too? I think of all the things I do different now and wonder if I will ever return to my former behavior. While I have never been accused of being a generous hugger, I used to hug my close friends and extended family. Not anymore. I don’t touch them at all. I now look at every package that tries to make its way into our home with a degree of suspicion. Is it clean, I always wonder? When I go to the grocery store, I check and re-check to make sure I have my mask, usually two in case one malfunctions, and my hand sanitizer for after I put the groceries in the back, but before I get into my car. I keep my distance from strangers in the store, even finding myself sometimes giving a pained look to that person who refuses to follow the arrows on the floor telling you which direction you should be pushing your cart. By the way, not sure those one-way aisles are effective. But they are there, and I try to play by the new rules. Will those go away eventually, or are we doomed to have one-way grocery aisles forever?
I don’t go out to eat very often. I wash my hands constantly, even if I haven’t left the house all day. I worry about who the kids are hanging out with, and who those kids are hanging out with, etc. It feels like worrying is a part-time job these days. One that doesn’t pay very well. What’s so interesting is that I am not by nature a serious worrywart. I am a doer, someone who just figures out how to make something happen. But this Pandemic has stopped me in my tracks. There is not a whole lot I can do except change my behaviors, stay as safe as possible, and wait it out.
In other words, all I can do is Wait to Exhale.
When in tricky situations, I play this game with myself. I project myself to a place in the future, maybe a year away, or five or ten. I ask the Future Me to look back on today and tell me what it feels like looking back on this current event. I do this for perspective. To help me not feel so stuck in whatever moment or event I am currently surviving. I asked my Future Self to look back on today and describe the current day, or the days or week or year when it all ended. I ask Future Me questions like “When and how did it all end?” “How did you feel that day when you knew you could fly in an airplane again without thinking you were risking your life, or someone else’s?” As I think about looking at today’s reality through the lens of Future Me, I realize there will eventually be a different world. We will find a treatment, a cure, a vaccine, or more than one. Our scientists will be hailed as the greatest thinkers of our time. I can see it plain as day.
I just have this nagging thought: even when I finally let out the breath I have been holding, will I be the same person or forever changed? And because most of my thoughts come in at least pairs, my second thought is, would that be so terrible to be changed? Maybe what is happening right now is an awakening of sorts. My friend Sara calls it bearing witness. It is paying attention, to a much larger degree, to others’ concerns, safety, challenges, and pain. I can say for certain I am not asleep to others’ discomfort and I can tell others are paying more attention to. We may be holding our collective breaths, but our eyes are wide with knowing.
