Sunday, June 21, 2020
Still on pause...
and I'm still at home.
For someone who's been writing about the end of the world for 15 years, I've been all but mute through this whole pandemic saga. I simply couldn't out into words the fear, sadness, anger, frustration, and all these other negative emotions that overwhelmed me and so many others. As I type this on 06/15/20, we're still knee-deep in the crisis, though things have eased somewhat. Millions are sick; hundreds of thousands have died, and the economy is all but ruined for the next few years - if we're lucky. Basically, we are teetering on the edge of complete collapse, and I'm not even discussing the civil unrest going on right now due to the tragic death of a black man in Minneapolis.
Setting aside the horrific death of George Floyd, since that deserves its own post, the world really isn't ending, but dramatically changing due to circumstance that would have been impossible to predict, other than another epidemic was statically inevitable. President Trump disbanding the pandemic response team obviously didn't help our..., well..., response.
Still, I believe my lack of writing is my own shame. On at least one level, I was absolutely correct, and on another mostly correct, but on so many others, I was not. I have been preparing for the end of the world, or at least I flattered myself by thing that I was, spending all this time and money studying, gaining skills, gathering documents, ad nauseam, and all my efforts amounted to almost nothing. I was safe enough where I lived, and my job continues to exist, so we're not in any immediate danger of homelessness. None of us have gotten sick; there is plenty of food in the fridge; we have kept our jobs even as our income is down, but we did not thrive, especially in the beginning. This could be seen as being successful in my preparations, but it didn't feel that way. Carolyn and I are very lucky in that she has a position in an essential industry, and I can work from home, and that the lockdown began in the slowest time of year for me, but none of that was designed to survive a disaster. When the pandemic started, I was as hopeless as everyone else, prepping be damned.
Nowhere was this more clear than with the death of my mother. Although tragic, her passing was not a surprise - her health was poor and she fell out of her bed some months prior, breaking her hip. We knew what was coming. Still, I was unable to visit her at the end because of COVID-19, and Karl and I have not been able to have a proper funeral over two months later. We may not be able to have one until there's some sort of vaccine, and if we're very lucky, that might be November or December. I'm also quite worried about my dad in Germany. If he dies in the near future, I may not even be able to enter the country to help with the burial.
All of these circumstances made me realize a flaw in the logic of so many in the survivalist/prepper/expat/FIRE communities. As dire as our predictions usually are, most of us assume, to one degree or another, the existence of the system, however one defines it. Furthermore, it is required for all but the most extreme members of these groups, and the vast majority have plans and expectations based on what the system provides, myself absolutely included. In March and April, it seemed those visions of the future were gone forever.
Life will go on, in whatever form it takes. For those of us who survive more or less in tact, we will have much work to do. We'll mourn our dead, and adjust to whatever we define as normal going forward. I'll bury my mom, and soon my dad, if needed, and if I'm allowed. Until then, I will wait, walking next to the river, working from home, and castigating myself for the weakness in my approach. I'll also be posting, since the damn has been broken.
For someone who's been writing about the end of the world for 15 years, I've been all but mute through this whole pandemic saga. I simply couldn't out into words the fear, sadness, anger, frustration, and all these other negative emotions that overwhelmed me and so many others. As I type this on 06/15/20, we're still knee-deep in the crisis, though things have eased somewhat. Millions are sick; hundreds of thousands have died, and the economy is all but ruined for the next few years - if we're lucky. Basically, we are teetering on the edge of complete collapse, and I'm not even discussing the civil unrest going on right now due to the tragic death of a black man in Minneapolis.
Setting aside the horrific death of George Floyd, since that deserves its own post, the world really isn't ending, but dramatically changing due to circumstance that would have been impossible to predict, other than another epidemic was statically inevitable. President Trump disbanding the pandemic response team obviously didn't help our..., well..., response.
Still, I believe my lack of writing is my own shame. On at least one level, I was absolutely correct, and on another mostly correct, but on so many others, I was not. I have been preparing for the end of the world, or at least I flattered myself by thing that I was, spending all this time and money studying, gaining skills, gathering documents, ad nauseam, and all my efforts amounted to almost nothing. I was safe enough where I lived, and my job continues to exist, so we're not in any immediate danger of homelessness. None of us have gotten sick; there is plenty of food in the fridge; we have kept our jobs even as our income is down, but we did not thrive, especially in the beginning. This could be seen as being successful in my preparations, but it didn't feel that way. Carolyn and I are very lucky in that she has a position in an essential industry, and I can work from home, and that the lockdown began in the slowest time of year for me, but none of that was designed to survive a disaster. When the pandemic started, I was as hopeless as everyone else, prepping be damned.
Nowhere was this more clear than with the death of my mother. Although tragic, her passing was not a surprise - her health was poor and she fell out of her bed some months prior, breaking her hip. We knew what was coming. Still, I was unable to visit her at the end because of COVID-19, and Karl and I have not been able to have a proper funeral over two months later. We may not be able to have one until there's some sort of vaccine, and if we're very lucky, that might be November or December. I'm also quite worried about my dad in Germany. If he dies in the near future, I may not even be able to enter the country to help with the burial.
All of these circumstances made me realize a flaw in the logic of so many in the survivalist/prepper/expat/FIRE communities. As dire as our predictions usually are, most of us assume, to one degree or another, the existence of the system, however one defines it. Furthermore, it is required for all but the most extreme members of these groups, and the vast majority have plans and expectations based on what the system provides, myself absolutely included. In March and April, it seemed those visions of the future were gone forever.
Life will go on, in whatever form it takes. For those of us who survive more or less in tact, we will have much work to do. We'll mourn our dead, and adjust to whatever we define as normal going forward. I'll bury my mom, and soon my dad, if needed, and if I'm allowed. Until then, I will wait, walking next to the river, working from home, and castigating myself for the weakness in my approach. I'll also be posting, since the damn has been broken.
