It’s been a sad morning. I’ve had tears in my eyes since my meditation. I’ve realised that my daughter will not live a normal childhood filled with time with other kids and it’s made me so sad. If she spends time with others, it will come with the proviso that she doesn’t touch or hug them.
And that’s the part that breaks my heart. Like me, she’s a very tactile person. To not have that is like being told you’re not allowed to breathe anymore. Kids touch, the hug, they roughhouse, they play. At seven, they shouldn’t have to worry about not going near other people for fear of passing on a contagious and potentially life threatening or life altering virus.
I’m angry that the world my daughter lives in is far more threatening than it ever was for me. We’ve come from a summer where we couldn’t leave the house for bushfire smoke pollution yet were terrified constantly of needing to leave to survive bushfire, straight into a pandemic of a virus that will probably outlive even my daughters children. And we’re likely heading for another summer of bush fire fear and air pollution if the west coast of the USA is any indicator.
I’m angry at the fear. I’m angry about not knowing. I’m angry about the pain and division it’s causing in the world. I’m angry at how this affects the vulnerable people disproportionately. I’m angry at the powers manipulating the masses for their own agenda. I’m angry at the world likely being changed forever.
But most of all I’m scared, because I don’t know how to do this world.