During the pandemic, my cats have basically been my support. Since I'm immunocompromised and can't really return to normal the way most people seem to be doing now in the wake of Omicron, and since I've spent most of my life since early March 2020 isolating, they've provided me with many and comfort. They've given me something to do each day, to take care of and be responsible for, kept me on track and going even when all I wanted to do for depressing, lonely week after week, month after month, is lay on the couch and be as invisible as I've felt through the pandemic. They make me smile, they bring me joy, they're always there. In a time of upheaval and disruption in my personal, professional, and social life, as the world becomes more inaccessible and farther away, as the people I care for drop out of my life, I've been able to count on them each and every day. Now, my oldest girl is slowly slipping away. She's been with me for the past 20 years (almost 21 now) and has seen me through so much of my life, both good and bad, happy and sad, and everything in between. I don't know how to live without her. I've lost family and friends to COVID, I've seen some end up disabled long-term in the wake of the damage it does to their bodies. And she's been there, every time. I've moved to four different countries, been married and divorced and remarried and divorced, through horrible, broken relationships and finally to one of mutual respect and care. I've seen my friends' kids born and grow up, go off to college, get jobs, become parents themselves. I lost all of my grandparents after her arrival. She was there when their home was sold before they moved into retirement housing and I lost access to the place in the world that brought me the most comfort. But she was still there, curled on my lap or on her favorite green cushion that I always have on a chair in the window so she can catch the warm rays of sunshine whether it's the dead of winter or the height of summer. I've lost a great deal over my life, especially during these COVID years. But I've had her. My best friend. Not for much longer, though, and I am devastated. Lost. I hold her increasingly fragile body, watch her slowly and gingerly drink a tiny sip of water, slowly curl back up in my lap and I wonder how many more times I'll get to experience that. She goes to the vets on Monday. I don't know how to cope.
February 22, 2022
I don't think it was a conscious idea, but I stopped praying. When I had to go out of the house, I would pray every morning, sometimes also in the afternoon. I went to shul every Shabbat. Now it is rare that I will pray. I don't want to get dressed. Or I don't really feel like talking to God or mumbling the words. I don't know if or why it is important. A few weeks ago when my husband and I heard davening in our backyard, we quickly got dressed and went to the outdoor shul. I was excited to see what it was going to be like. I was hoping for some excitement or feeling of awe for the first time in months being part of a community or hearing the Torah read. And all I felt, in the end, was a desire to run away, and that I was stuck. It struck me last week when i was sitting in my garden, in shorts and a tank top, reading a novel, while I overheard the Torah reading. I had no desire to run to get dressed or even enter that space again. The rituals I still do are go to the mikvah. Which I question more now, of what is this water really doing. Is it worth all the planning and arranging that I need to do so I can go? Shabbat, which I appreciate as the one day that I don't have to focus on my computer. Although at times I want to have interactions with people other than my husband. But overall it is nice to have a day where I don't feel bad about sitting in the sun and reading. I am curious as to how Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur will feel this year. Not sure if I will go to shul or if there will be shul. I am also a rabbi --- so I am not sure how I will be able to [be] present or helpful to others who are also feeling a lack of connection. I am not sure if it is a loss of faith or perhaps just a loss of desire for strict rituals.
August 7, 2020