At the time of writing this, I’ve been sheltering in place for 60 days.
60 days at home, just Seth and I. 60 days since I’ve hugged another person. 60 days since I’ve been able to go out without taking a million precautions. 60 days stuck.
The entire fucking world has changed in those 60 days. Nearly 90,000 Americans have died of a virus. We’re on the verge of economic collapse. Globally things don’t look much better.
It’s funny, because I work from home. I’m always home anyways. My schedule has barely changed – if anything, you think it should have gotten better because I’m not home alone most of the time.
But alas, even at home, so much has changed. I’ve changed. The person I was going into this isn’t the same person I am now.
I mean, none of this is new. I’ve been documenting my mental breakdowns on Instagram/Facebook stories for the world to see. Shitposting has been one of the few things that have brought me joy.
When everything started, I was pretty certain I wasn’t going to live past April. The empty shelves in the stores were triggering the deepest fear and anxiety I’ve ever felt. The apathy I saw in fellow man – especially family members – inspired such hopelessness I legitimately debated if any of this was worth it.
At my lowest, I made a comment and Seth’s reaction made it clear I was taking things too far. The guilt I felt about it pushed me into some sense. No way I could hurt him like that again. So I’m still here. Guilt tripped by myself into staying alive.
I’m not proud of it, but substance abuse has been a way to escape. The only sober night I’ve had since March resulted in me crying and back sliding into wanting to hurt myself. So every night, like clockwork, I’ll get stoned or, occasionally, drunk.
The laughter is endless, and it really does help.
When I’m not under the influence (okay and often when I am) Doctor Who and Animal Crossing have helped tremendously.
I’ve put nearly 300 hours into ACNH. At this point I have legitimate emotional attachments to those lil’ pixel animals. My new best friend is a green duck named Scoot. And when Audie sent me a letter about how much she liked me, I cried.
Doctor Who has been keeping me afloat even before the pandemic. I discovered around November that if I’m really low, I can put it on and it instantly brightens my day. At this point it’s like Harry Potter – he was my childhood best friend. Always there for me. And now I’m older and it’s the Doctor. Always there for me.
I’ve learned so much about myself during this lockdown, though. Every single wall I’ve ever had has been broken down. I am the rawest, openest, and most volatile I have ever been. Seth said it was like meeting me for the first time. I feel like for the first time in my adult life, the real Kyrie – not some curated “keeping up appearances” Kyrie – is living.
Turns out she’s a messy, mentally-ill, confrontational, bisexual, stoner bitch with a secret heart of gold. And I kinda love her for it.
Fortunately, Seth feels the same way. We’ve been so much closer, so much more open with each other. About everything. I’ve never felt so loved, or so lucky to have someone to love. I’ve spent all day every day for the last 60 days with my absolute best friend, partner, soulmate. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.
It’s been hard to accept that nothing will ever go back to “normal”. Normal is dead. Normal is gone. While so far I’m fortunate that the pandemic hasn’t killed anyone close to me, it’s still taken a lot.
I don’t think my relationship with most of my family members will ever be the same.
I don’t think anyone will ever look at me the same.
I’m not 100% sure if my business is going to survive because my mental health is wrecking my productivity most days.
And I’m sure as hell not going back into the damn closet.
Things are re-opening, but I don’t plan on venturing too far. I’m looking at this as the first 60 days. I don’t know what the next 60 hold.
Pretty optimistic I’ll be around to see them, though, so that’s good.