stages of my isolation
a dispatch from distancing day 99 — entry 02
my last normal day was a thursday. it was march 12th and i allowed myself few extra minutes in bed. our team started remote work few days before it was announced for the whole corporation and everyone took the opportunity. except for me and one other workmate.
i took my time walking to work and bought my usual iced coffee. everyone was wearing face masks. and there were alcohol bottles in every corner of every floor of the office building.
what i thought would be a slow work day turned the opposite. we had to scrap all the copies and content we created for the past few weeks, revise everything, and turn it into something that say: “we’re here for you”. projects that were going on for weeks were suddenly put on hold and replaced with crisis-related ones.
you wouldn’t believe how many times i wrote “in these times of uncertainty” and how many variations of “stay safe” i had to think of that day.
i clocked out earlier than my workmate. “see you in… two months?” i joked.
later that night, a month-long quarantine was announced. my girlfriend bought a one-way plane ticket to her hometown. and the next morning, i took a two-hour bus ride back to mine.
i didn’t bother bringing most of my stuff. i left my sketchbook, camcorder, and other essentials in my dorm room. i thought i would be back soon.
my usual 10 minute morning walk from my place to the office (bgc, taguig)
it’s been ninety-nine days since. the quarantine had been extended thrice. i haven’t stepped foot anywhere except our house and the grocery store. my green-painted nails are chipped and cracked. and when my chest feels tight and i have a hard time breathing, i still can’t figure out if it’s a panic attack or a symptom of corona virus.
stage 1: paranoia and self guilt
the first month of quarantine felt like being a high school student in summer vacation. and i know i’m in an extremely privileged position to be able to say that. but it’s true, it was the first time since i graduated that i was at home for so long.
i had nowhere to be. i had empty weekends and an even emptier journal. nothing else to write except that it felt like the world was ending.
with layoffs and temporary company shutdowns everywhere, i was one of the few lucky ones whose job stayed safe. business as usual — or at least trying to be.
i had this stupid idea that working from home would be less stressful than reporting to the office. but viber and slack notifications got even more frequent. our workload increased twofold and deadlines got tighter.
of course, i know that these are very small problems to have during this time. i keep having to remind myself to be grateful that i have these problems. because these very same problems keep me afloat and these problems let me donate to those who can't do the same.
but sometimes, it gets too hard to function and care about work when the whole world feels like it’s crashing and burning. it’s hard to pretend like any of this actually mean something. i’m not saying that our creative work is meaningless. to be fair, our products are considered “essential” during this time which explains the multiplied workload. but anything that doesn’t save lives or spark change right now feels insignificant.
i’m finding it harder and harder every day to act like it’s “business as usual”. it’s a challenge to put my game face on for work like things are normal, when life right now feels everything but.
some days, turning my laptop on and accomplishing my day-to-day tasks can feel like the biggest struggle in the world. this feeling is immediately followed by disgust and shame for feeling that way. i have a home, a steady paycheck, and my health is intact. and i felt like i had no right to complain about anything when this crisis is a million times worse for other people.
what working from home looks like
eventually, i’ve learned that kicking myself for feeling this way is unproductive. i still feel guilty because of the incredible privilege i have but i learned that it’s pointless to question who’s entitled to grieve in the middle of a global pandemic.
i speak for most of us when i say we started the year with a positive mindset, entering a new decade and all that. and having to witness all those visions go down in flames can take a toll on anyone.
the absence of normalcy, the absurdity of the present, the uncertainty of the future, and sudden loss human connection are valid reasons to mourn. so i allowed myself to.
stage 2: hyper-productivity and self delusion
on the first month of quarantine, i didn’t do anything else except one, work and two, religiously follow the news. immediately after waking up, i open the telegram channel for corona virus updates. every breakfast was consumed with the television news in the background. and i spend my work breaks refreshing my timeline to see updates.
it didn’t take too long for me to realize that our government is completely unprepared, in denial of how bad the situation is, and has zero sense of urgency for the truly important things. every day, there was a new reason to be angry and devastated.
on month two, i slowly avoided the news. i put the telegram channel on mute, started reading novels while eating breakfast, and used my break time to watch an episode of sex and the city. a show about four thirty-something women living in new york city, wearing luxury brands, and not working nine hours a day offered the perfect fantasy for this strange time. in their world, the only crisis that mattered was a sold out manolo blahnik heels, and it was the right amount of dumb i needed. i finished all ninety four episodes in a month.
i recently read the book ‘atomic habits’ by james clear and learned the secrets to keeping good habits. i’ve even managed to fix my body clock. i now get up at six in the morning, go straight to our balcony and work out for forty minutes. i started listing down things i want to create and achieve while under quarantine — one of which you’re reading right now.
i started making these rules as if i’m participating in a contest called ‘who seized the pandemic?’. and whenever i missed a workout or my screen time went over three hours, i beat myself up for “wasting my free time”.
i created a false world of leisure and productivity. and turning off the news helped me keep up the facade. accomplishing things and checking items off my planner became a coping mechanism and finding my “next great project” was a brief respite from what’s happening.
i’ve stopped hiding away from the news now, but i’ve also learned how to consume healthy amounts of it.
while there’s nothing wrong with “taking a break from the news” to take care of your mental health, it’s important to remember that the news updates that “stress” us out and want to escape from is the reality of other people.
it’s a privilege to be in quarantine inside a nice home, to not have to leave this place to earn money, and not worry about putting food on the table. it’s not a sin to be in such position but we are accountable for what we do and not do with it.
and the least we can do right now is stay informed and speak up for them.
stage 3: nostalgia and uncertainty
four days before the quarantine started, i went out to have a film roll developed. i received the photos yesterday which is almost exactly three months later. they apologized and explained that they only returned operations few days ago.
“it’s fine, i actually forgot about it,” i said.
when i saw the photos, it felt like i also forgot the life i had before. not to be super fucking soft, but it was like looking through a past life. it feels so silly and i know it sounds ridiculous because the photos were only taken in january. but it feels so far away.
some of the film photos i received from february 2020
it’s almost bizarre to think that there was a time that i went to the movie theaters and didn’t care about who sat there before me, nights when me and my friends mindlessly danced in a crowded bar, or that me and my girlfriend once comfortably sat in a public park and had a picnic. it feels like a completely different timeline.
one of the few things that have kept me going is the thought of “after all of these”. for a time, i’ve fooled myself into thinking that one day, this will magically be over. we will all go out, take our masks off and reveal big smiles on our faces, and wander outside again carefree.
this can be true for some countries. but with how things are going here in mine, it feels like a long and bumpy road before we can get there. the crisis in the philippines has morphed into something bigger than a public health crisis. the country’s press freedom is under attack, and our right to due process and freedom of speech is only one signature away from being taken from us.
i’ve stopped envisioning life after the quarantine because just like my old one, it feels just as far away.
i do know now that there’s no going back to how things were.
so where do we go from here?
no one knows yet. but i can definitely see myself and my peers in the streets together, fighting tyranny and putting the work that needs to be done. and that vision is enough to keep me going for now.