Fear. I think I had never really been afraid before. Fear for me was what you feel watching a horror movie or when we do something foolish—fear of being caught and fear of the shame of being caught.
I thought fear was that paralyzing sensation of cold sweat coming down the spine, bugging eyes, and shaking hands.
In the early months of the pandemic in NYC, I met another fear. Or maybe, I met real fear.
It was so immense and unknown, a crushing and immeasurable sensation, that it seemed to have no end. And since there was no light at the end of the tunnel, it was much more terrifying than panic. You couldn't panic because the mind was wired to survive minute by minute. You had to keep going even with suspended breathing, all senses on constant alert, holding back emotions to save any and all available energy. Stuck in nothingness without an end prediction. Fear is feeling utterly hopeless and yet trying to make it through the day.
When watching the news on TV, I remember the night I pulled a calculator and did the math for the first time. I realized in shock that what was happening in Italy was going to happen in an even more significant proportion in NYC. For a second, I panicked, but after that, taking in all the consecutive blows delivered by the news, there was only silence left. It was an eerie sensation mixed with plain terror. And it was just the beginning.
From March until June, NYC became a ghost town, a war zone, a dystopia. The world shaken by the pandemic seemed nothing compared to NYC. We always think that we are the most affected by a tragedy. The human mind is selective and selfish and always puts its own despair before others. But in NYC, it looked different. The world's most famous global hub gathered millions of people in a small space. The streets, subway, and even the corner deli seemed like perfect traps. NYC was a giant trap. And the prophecy was fulfilled. Within weeks the hospitals were overcrowded, and about 1000 people were dying every day.
What made it even more agonizing is that those were the first days of the pandemic. Health experts knew little about the virus then, and the news was confusing and alarming on all fronts.
Hunkered down in our tiny apartments, we looked like war refugees asking for help from the outside. We sat every day at 11AM in front of the TV to watch Cuomo's update. It was a brief moment of comfort, but it also confirmed that we lived on a giant Petri dish.
Meanwhile, wealthier and luckier people in other parts of the world posted messages and pictures of them taking advantage of the semi-lockdown where they lived to watch movies, date, or exercise. Celebrities posted inspiring or reflective messages; millions of people seemed still unaware of what was coming. It felt like two very different realities, both of them completely surreal.
In NYC, people posted horrific news mixed with the sense of humor of a city that survived terrorist attacks. They say NYC never stops, but this time it stopped.
Then the protests, riots, and the curfew came. At times the city literally became a war zone. It looked like we were watching civilization as we know unraveling in front of our eyes.
The other day I searched for the video I posted showing the USNS Comfort arriving on the Hudson River to help the overcrowded city's health system. I couldn't remember exactly when it happened anymore. It is crazy how this experience has affected our memories. The groundhog day feeling mixed with the lack of perspective made us all frozen in time.
Spring came, and summer went away in a flash. The relief didn't last long, and soon, it was cold, gloomy, snowy ,and locked down again. Recently a friend posted on FB that everyone who spent those months in NYC is now suffering from some type of post-traumatic stress. I can relate to that.
I left NYC in January, and only now, still scared of the pandemic, I feel a little more relaxed. But I'm still trying to make sense of what we lived during 2020. It seems distant and, at the same time, terribly close. I'll never forget it, and I will never be the same.
Today, seeing the news of countries and cities entering into complete lockdown for the first time one year after everything has started, makes me feel a tightness in my heart. I think about what they are going through and how my own safety, even thousands of kilometers away, depends on these people being safe as well.