After more than a month of being locked down, facing the prospect of someone asking: “are you ok?” irks me. I wonder whether I may lose it. Do people really want to know when they ask, or is it as casual as saying “hello?” or even worse, an attempt to neutralize how uncomfortable my signs of angst makes them feel? Consequently, I can have a panic attack or throw the first thing at hand. Therefore, if anyone wants to know how I am doing, look around:

There are millions of uninsured, children going hungry, mother’s desperate from not being able to provide for their kids; toxic couples breathing the same pernicious air; undocumented folks fearful of being jailed or deported to dangerous conditions; prisoners locked up in contaminated, overcrowded jails. And millions of isolated seniors left on their own, dependent on the kindness of strangers. Racism showing its ugly face against those in need. Poverty is growing exponentially. Desperation is running rampant. This period of uncertainty will impact children’s memories for the rest of their lives.

It makes me shudder to think about those fallen prey to the virus: the horrors lived in hospitals everywhere, thousands gasping for air, whether in Europe, Asia, or America. The anguish of families unable to stay by the side of loved ones at their deaths. The want for essential supplies. Hospitals are lacking medical equipment. First responders are risking their lives by going to work, just like those working at supermarkets or making deliveries. Watching the news is like standing on the edge of a precipice overlooking hell. How can anyone feel ok with such chaos unleashed globally?

Being away from loved ones means persistently worrying about their well-being. It’s continually attempting to detect any difficulty in their breath, asking if their olfactory sense is as keen as it has always been, finding out how they are managing from hour to hour, day to day, week to week. What is there to feel ok about? Personally, it’s an idea I’m unable to fathom right now immersed in the turmoil humanity is undergoing.

It scares me to consider the effects of this quarantine: after the lifting of restrictions, how are we going to interact? Will we feel safe and free to touch, hug, kiss, murmur in each other’s ears? If 9/11 changed us, ripping apart the security bubble we lived in, what side effects will we suffer after COVID-19, even after finding an effective treatment or vaccine? Will we be able to leave this period behind like a snake sheds its skin? How will that new skin be? More resilient, less vulnerable, but also limited in the ability to feel.

The prospects don’t make me feel ok. But I go on, with the daily chores: taking care of those around me, working and connecting online, finding the means to forget by reading, studying, watching cooking shows or chick flicks or courtroom dramas; whatever works, by listening to music or meditating. Most of the time, I’m able to fully function, even feel calm at times. But it all goes away whenever anyone asks me if I’m ok.