You Know What? No, It’s Not OK to Can’t Right Now.

Just a lazy Sunday afternoon scrolling through Facebook. It shouldn't be lazy, but that's a post for another time. I came across one of those dewy-eyed I'm-OK-You're-OK "let's all be gentle with ourselves" posts with one of those "SO MUCH THIS!" enthusiasm slathered over it. It was posted by a loved one, so I didn't snark on it. I'm a dick, but not that much of one. But I read it. Of course, I did. I want to understand how those who are forced out of work at present are doing. Any time I complain about having to go to work during The Days of COVID, I get the backlash of "Be glad you can!!!" and "We want to be working, we'd rather be working!" Any time I see yet another post about running out of shows to binge and being SO BORED and going insane with nothing to do anymore, I know I cannot say anything about being envious because of the inevitable chorus of "OMG CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY!!!" that follows. Um, I don't, but that's a post for another time.

So, yeah, the dewy-eyed post. The blogger seems like a nice enough person. A little first-world-problem for me, but whatever. I mean, oh, whaaa, my home office is such a cushy place to read other people's news from and I'm still in my pj's at 3 pm... I'm SO crushed for you and your little privileged-enough life. She really seems to be suffering. I didn't bother to read much more than the post that brought me there, because blah. 

In this post, bless her lil' heart, she talks about how it's OK to come undone and not be able to do anything and that you *can't right now.* That if you are merely surviving, "that is enough right now."

Let's go with that. She mentions being 6 or 7 weeks into this whole not-being-able-to-go-out thing, but she can't really tell because it has all blended together. Great. So... how many weeks are we allowed to *can't right now*? Shouldn't we *can* at some point during this?

It's very simple. Yes, this is overwhelming at times. Hello? The rest of us are out there having to keep our shit together and *have to right now* extra. And we don't see an end in sight. When you all get off your couches after all your *can't,* we keep right on going. And hello? If you *can't right now,* when can you? When, exactly, can we count on you? Because we need all hands on deck, and if you *can't right now,* can you when we need you to? I can give ya the first few days, even weeks, of this. At some point, however, you pull yourself up out of it and DO something. Again, I’m the dick for saying this because I can't possibly know what it's like to have to lay on my couch for weeks on end not knowing what's going to happen and where the money will come from if this goes on and oh-my-god I have to cook again. I get the money thing, that is indeed worrisome, so how exactly does laying on your couch *can't-ing* help that? Hmmm? At some point, you better decide you CAN. Just. Decide. You. Can. Because otherwise, we all get the red handmaid outfit or the grey Martha get-up.*** And it will be because YOU COULDN'T.

If you *can't right now,* when exactly may we count on you to *can*? We are out here and we have to *can,* we have no choice, and it's harder than ever on us too. But we're getting shit done. The least you can do is try to put on your big girl panties and DO something. What? I don't know. I don't care. I'm busy out here getting the aforementioned shit done. Figure it out.

Read a damn book. Read a few damn books. Write something yourself. Journal this whole thing going on. Make long-term plans for the summer. Plan your garden. Plant your garden. Plant your neighbor’s garden because they are elderly or working. Do all those things you have always said you never have time to do. Learn about the 5 Gyres. Learn about methane clathrate and negative feedback loops. Read up on palm oil. Find out that a cracker plant being considered along the Ohio River Valley isn’t a place where elves work. Start that blog. Find your cause for activism. You always wanted time off, you grumbled about having to work, now you have this time forced upon you and you can’t get off your couch? Weak tea, dude.

We’re coming to the end of this. Maybe. For the first time? Is there a second round ahead? How much longer is this time?

Decide that you can.


***The Handmaid’s Tale, a 1985 novel by Margaret Atwood, and a series on Hulu