Is going to a crowded theme park the best idea in the middle of a pandemic the best idea ever?
No. Probably not.
BUT we’re doing it…it’s already paid for and we’re going to do the best we can to minimize our risk by quarantining for a week before and two weeks afterwards (well, J and I are. B has to go straight back to work, unfortunately). We’ll be wearing masks, washing our hands and using copious amounts of hand sanitizer as well as doing the best we can to social distance while we’re in the parks and elsewhere.
I’m as excited as I am anxious about this…because I know what we’re doing isn’t the smartest thing in the world right now. But it’s been a helluva a year and honestly, we’ve all had about as much as we can stand with things turning upside down and the year being a total and complete frigging dumpster fire.
But you know what…I can’t live my life afraid. It’s not good for my mental health to be that stressed and anxious all the time. I had several very bad panic attacks earlier this year because I was letting the news and everything else get to me and becoming very stressed and anxious over everything that was going on.
You’re not supposed to go anywhere where people are gathering in large numbers, but frankly, that’s kind of unavoidable unless you go camping (which we’re not fans of. I mean, it’s fine. But it’s really not our thing) and unrealistic, in my opinion. I feel that as long as we take as many precautions as we can, we’re probably going to be fine. And if we’re not…well…I’ll deal with that when it happens. But I can’t sit here and be stressed about something that may or may not happen. IF I get COVID, I will most likely get very, very sick due to my own autoimmune issues. So I realize I’m being a reckless asshole by getting on a plane and going to a crowded theme park. The cautious, scared rabbit part of me is like, “NO. Don’t do it. but the rebellious butthole punk part of me is like, “You’ll be fine. Just fucking do it. And you can say later, dude, look at how badass I am by going to a theme park in the middle of a frigging pandemic.” which is a stupid way to feel but part of me DOES feel that way. I ain’t gonna lie.
This is truly the first time I’ve felt really, REALLY happy about something, really excited about something all year. And you know what? Haters gonna hate. I’m not going to let them steal my joy about this. I just can’t. Because this is all I have right now. This hope. This small joy. And the memories we make, going to a theme park in the middle of a pandemic, will become a precious part of the bank of memories I draw on when the darkness gets too dark for me to handle. When the anxiety becomes too overwhelming and all I want to do is stay in bed for days because getting up and trying to function like the grown ass responsible adult I am is too difficult. I NEED that joy, worse than a junkie needs a fix. And I’m not scared to say it out loud.