It’s a little bizarre to think that in just under two weeks, on June 3rd, I’ll technically be able to take off my mask and resume life more or less as normal. That I’ll be safe (safer? safe-ish?) from either getting or spreading Covid-19.
It’s surreal. I feel like a rabbit cautiously poking its head out of the burrow to see if the hawk is gone. While the coast looks clear, I’m not entirely sure if I trust it.
This is not because I disbelieve the recommendations of the CDC, but rather I lack trust in the responsibility of the other humans who live and interact around me. Fortunately, my work is still requiring masks for both staff and patrons, regardless of vaccination status, and I personally plan to keep wearing a mask there through the summer at least.
But oddly enough, the thought of being able to go to a movie theater, eat out at a restaurant, or finally visit friends without wearing a mask or social distancing fills me with both elation and dread. One moment I’ll be champing at the bit to get out there and the next moment I want to bolt the door and never show my face to anyone ever again. Sometimes I start grinning for no reason, and then I’ll be on the verge of tears.
I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve been under heavy stress for a prolonged amount of time.
We’re all tired. Go get vaccinated.