I think I’ve moved into the final stage of grief: acceptance.
For 8 weeks I’ve been grieving, among many things, that my old life is over. Going to the gym at 5:30a every morning. Running with good friends on Sundays and laughing with them as we share lunch together. Going to shows at ACT and listening to the Seattle Symphony. Eating out at amazing restaurants. Hugging friends so dear to you that they’re family. Board game nights and shared dinners with loved ones.
That life is over for the foreseeable future for very valid reasons.
This is the new normal.
Now I’m focused on switching from “surviving until this is over” to “living in the mid- and post-pandemic world”. It’s hard and sad. It’s also necessary for me to drag myself out of “I’m alive out of obligation” back into “living again”.