It’s been over a month since my last post around the anniversary of Mickey’s death. I wish I could report that I’ve been working on something big, but I haven’t. Life just got in the way.

I’ve learned that since the pandemic, everyone’s been in “survival mode.” Any expectations of excellence or predisposed notions of what should happen or supposed to be have gone out the window. We are all doing our best to simply make it through the day. For Year 2 of this pandemic, it’s not going to be as easy.

Last year, everything was new – wearing masks, social distancing, eating outside in 25 degree weather, getting on line at 7am to grocery shop in a panic. Those were unique experiences for the brain and the body. There was a slight reprieve in the Summer and Fall, where life went back to “normal.” I rode the subway to work. I picked up coffee on my way to the office. I went to the hair salon. But then Delta kicked in with a vengeance, and Omicron went “Hold my beer.” (Likely this is not an original take so credit goes to whomever coined the positioning.) Now, 72 months later, my brain is saying “AGAIN with this shit?”

I’ve had two significant revelations during this pandemic. (Again, not original but had the thoughts.)

Almost one million deaths related to COVID and nobody is blinking an eye. If you are lucky enough to have made it this far without any of your close friends, family or loved ones succumbing to this virus, then count your blessings every day. And then count them again. In May of 2020, I saved this newspaper issue.

I remember thinking “Wow, that’s an unbelievable amount of loss. We won’t let it get much higher.” I could not have been more wrong about anything else. Now at 815,000 deaths and counting, and people in the US are just <shrug emoji>.

The other thing I’ve realized is how in times like these, everyone does their own personal calculus about how much is too much risk for them. Everything is relative, conditional on how someone feels, thinks or believes and that impacts their behavior. It’s not about the collective good for the community, it’s about what is good for me. Which tracks to my earlier point on survival. I remain confounded by this part of human behavior. Maybe someone smarter can explain this to me? Does this go back to the Declaration of Independence and the rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?

That’s my rant. Oh, one last thing to report. Body dysmorphia and other related “I’m gaining weight oh no” struggles remain alive and continue to be going strong in Year 2. I seriously thought last year that when faced with deadly virus, my body image issues would subside. There were much bigger things to be concerned with, right? But alas, once a Weight Watcher, always a Weight Watcher.