Hot Spot

Getting a notice on your door from the City informing you that your area is now deemed a Covid-19 hot spot is a lot like being told, oh by the way, your house is located on ground zero.

“We’re going to test you and let you know if your house is on fire.” Okay.

I make light of this, only because, it was pretty terrifying.

Testing is strictly voluntary, but it is the right thing to do, and we all know it. This way we can know what the demographics are, and do contact tracing. We are so fortunate to live in a country that is making every effort to arrest the spread of this disease. It is an uphill battle as people get tired of the whole affair. Especially the young, which is where the increase of infections are happening now.

And so they came and tested all of us, in our parking lot, one beautiful summer weekend. We stood outside in a long line, six feet apart, with our masks on, waiting our turn and trying very, very hard to pretend none of us is worried. At least I got to see some fellow tenants I haven’t seen in ages, that were once regular fixtures in my day to day life. But we didn’t talk, just nodded our recognition of each other, and kept our thoughts to ourselves.

The mobile testing unit was extremely well organized. The staff were so professional, courteous and talkative, well, when you haven’t had much human contact in a long while this was almost a pleasant outing. These are strange times.

The test itself is slightly uncomfortable, but the person doing it took their time and were so reassuring. I commend them for their patience. I’m not a youngster anymore and it takes me a while to accept a swab up my nose and in my throat. But hey, at my age, I have had way more invasive tests than this, that lasted forever and have traumatized me for life. So if you want the test, be assured, this is nothing.

No word is a good word, that is, if you don’t hear from the Public Health Nurse the next day, you are okay. But I checked my results anyways on-line and I am negative. Which, strangely, is not all that reassuring.

If you are negative, then you are still extremely vulnerable to getting Covid-19. And now I am a hundred times more afraid to go out.

If you’re positive, then it is like sitting on a time bomb, wondering when it will go off. Listening to it ticking each day. And then you fear, have I given this thing to someone else, someone I love?

All this just added to the ambiguity of my life at the moment and kind of makes everything that has happened since that fateful day in March, when they told us to close our office and go home, surreal.

Trust Not Hope

Now that I find myself in a situation where the future is a vast unknown, I am adrift and basically trying anything that comes my way to see if it fits, I have learned the difference between trust and hope.

Most of my life I have hoped for better. Hoping for things is merely wishing. Hope is limp. It is lame. It has no action attached to it. “Oh, I hope for the best.” Blah.

Trust however, is empowering. To trust in something is to have faith, and faith that is unshakeable can move mountains.

To trust that everything will work out means that I will put forth the effort necessary, safe in the knowing that the universe, the Divine, God, is not indifferent. I do not know what the results of my efforts will be, but I can trust that God has my back. No matter what happens, it will benefit my growth, or someone else. Something will happen.

Hope means I am looking for a certain outcome. Trust means whatever happens will be good in some way. Hope closes you off. Trust opens you up. Trust helps you get past fear.

Hope is to give up and do nothing. Trust is to plunge forward and do everything you can, God will direct your path.

Though the corona virus has severely curtailed what actions I can take in the outside world, it just means working a bit harder on the inside. I am discovering a lot of interesting things.


This is how I’ve felt for most of my adult life. Worthless.

I struggled so hard in my office jobs. I am inept at office work. I am incompetent as a secretary, receptionist and clerk.

So forever I have felt worthless just because I’ve been doing the wrong kind of work!

That has defined my entire adult life.

I wonder how many other people feel worthless just because they are in the wrong place, or with the wrong person, or in the wrong job.

Women of my generation had very few career choices unless they were prepared to fight hard. Most of us accepted our lot and trudged on.

So for 40 plus years I have felt needlessly worthless. It caused me to get nearly everything else wrong in my life too. Wrong partners. Wrong places to live. Wrong friends.

I am astonished by this revelation, that there was never anything wrong with me, I was just a square peg being squashed into a round hole.

Absolutely amazing.

Things Are Not What They Seem

A bad scenario would be quitting your job without any idea of what to do next. But just as bad is knowing exactly what you want to do, and then weeks into it realize, nah, that’s not it.

I was doing what I loved while working, but in such small hard won amounts that I thought it would be fabulous to have all day to do whatever I enjoy. And I have many interests.

I had several dreams on the shelf. For decades I longed to make them real. At last, shake off the dust and let’s get rolling!

Well, that lasted a short while.

It’s not that I stopped wanting or enjoying what I do.

It’s. Just. Not. Quite. It.

This feels as frustrating as having a sink full of dirty dishes. You know you got to tackle it, but lack the energy.

Not that EVER, in a million, zillion, kabillion years would I ever go back to the job I left. I am so happy to be out of there!

I guess I waited too long to do my dreams and they changed and I didn’t notice. Maybe there is a better version of my dreams waiting to be realized and I just need to stay open to it.

Things are not what they seem.