Back then, positive cases didn’t matter to me because I only saw them as numbers. They didn’t have names, just data for the statisticians. Keeping informed became exhausting and I began to retreat further into myself…

When crossing rivers, the first thought should always be, “Do I need to get my boots wet? Can I see a safer and easier way to cross?” I feel like the last two years have been one bloody long river crossing. As each of us do our best to navigate through these strange times, one thing’s for sure, we’re so far down the river that whatever awaits us on the other side, there’s no going back. The ‘new normal’ just becomes, well, normal.

There were plenty of times that the river looked calm and getting my boots wet didn’t seem so bad. I remember the days when wearing masks was a fashion accessory more than a necessity. Videos of Six60’s massive summer concerts in New Zealand beamed across the world and jaws dropped. Apart from a couple of lockdowns, my life pretty much went on as usual until the last six months.

As the Omicron community cases kept climbing at the start of the year, we could see the waters start to get murkier by the day. Even though we had watched the rest of the world experience our current reality, there was so much we as a country had to figure out on our own too. The river wasn’t only just rising, it was in flood. 

Back then, positive cases didn’t matter to me because I only saw them as numbers. They didn’t have names, just data for the statisticians. Keeping informed became exhausting and I began to retreat further into myself.

Then in the last few weeks, those numbers suddenly became names. Family, friends, workmates and even neighbours. We talk about six degrees of separation, in a town like Whakatāne, it’s more like two. I had been working from home for over a month by then, so news of people isolating came as a trickle at first.

It would be easy to think that level of connection would connect us, to make us feel that we’re in this together, but that’s not always the case. There are many that feel scattered, disconnected…maybe even abandoned. In our own way, we are reacting to something we have never experienced before. And probably never again. We are grieving the life we had.

During a natural disaster, communities come together to rebuild. We draw on knowledge of past disasters to bring back a sense of normality - and it all seems possible because we’ve done it before. It may not happen overnight, but we have an idea of a timeline. Right now, we don’t have a timeline for this pandemic and that’s what is driving people crazy. Furthermore, this isn’t a one-off event in isolation - it’s global.

How many generations do we have to go back to say they have lived through a global pandemic like this one? Not only that, this is the first pandemic where social media has become the battleground of the loudest voices. Experts and arm-chair scientists collide in a messy entanglement of opinions. I used to get angry and frustrated seeing friends sharing misinformation, but rather than confront them, I chose to unfollow instead. It’s amazing how much more you hear when you quieten the noise.

How did I find peace in a global pandemic? I decided that even though the world isn’t ok right now, I could still be ok. By accepting that uncertainty will always be a part of life, I could make peace with the river. There will be days I walk alongside it, and others when I have no choice but to get my boots wet. Maybe even swim. I feel grateful that my loved ones are safe, that I can still see friends, go hiking, travel…heck, I even went on a date lately. I can’t tell you when this pandemic will end, but I know I will have my peace of mind when it does.  

xo Ronna Grace

P.S. I also want to send massive love to those in the healthcare field - those who feel invisible, often exhausted and much like us, just want this to be over too. Thank you so much.

fivefootronna is Ronna Grace Funtelar - a thirtyish adventurer, sometimes poet and lover of cheese. She has a unique brand of optimism that is a combination of her great enthusiasm for life and cups of coffee during the day.