Covid-19, Day Two Hundred Four, October 4 2020.

This is a deep dive into April.

By week three, panic had set in. While warnings began from every public agency that mental health issues were about to spike, those of us who already had them were buckling up.

Working in “prevention education” quickly came to mean “feeling completely meaningless,” as public health priorities snapped from violence prevention to obtaining food and shelter. Salvaging our planned awareness campaign seemed futile; basic tasks became more difficult. I began to mark the days in Roman numerals on the kitchen calendar, writing that “feeling like my preoccupation with the passage of time means it somehow still matters.”