How to Stay Put

Coping With Stay-at-Home Orders During The Coronavirus Outbreak

Living in an early epicenter of the coronavirus outbreak in the U.S., Seattle residents have been under statewide stay-at-home orders since March 23. What started as a two-week order was extended another month, and like in other regions—there’s no certainty over when or how restrictions will be lifted. I collected stories from area residents about how they are living, working, and keeping their families safe within their four walls. What they are doing to manage their anxieties over health, employment, and home-schooling challenges while in isolation, and the ways they stay connected to loved ones and their community. How they stay hopeful, and how they stay put.

Scarlet Gonzalez, in Ballard

Scarlet is a family therapist who has transitioned to phone and video telehealth sessions exclusively. “We’re all doing the best we can; that’s all we need to ask for. Trust that this is an opportunity for the mental health system to expand its traditional view of treatment.” Scarlet allows that it is difficult to support others through such an unprecedented event as she is still learning how to navigate it herself. “None of us know how to get through this. There’s no handbook, no guidelines for ‘best practices during a pandemic.'” Scarlet’s colleagues have reported a decrease in caseloads and new clients, which she attributes to the rise in job losses and furloughs. She adds that those who may be in need are “too overwhelmed to engage in therapeutic treatment. Therapy is a time to connect and deepen into ourselves, and if we're in survival mode (which many of us are) it's going to feel too taxing to do any sort of emotional work.”

An extrovert, Scarlet is now coping with the lack of face-to-face interactions and the fracturing of her "lovingly curated” daily routine. “At times, it’s been hard to be with my feelings. Some days I feel like myself, and others I am so exhausted I can’t even walk outside.” Even so, she sees silver linings. “The earth is being healed by the decrease of pollution. And today, on my walk, I was met with more waves, smiles, and hellos than I ever have in the seven plus years I’ve lived in Seattle. I think this global pandemic has the potential to bring us all closer together.”

Dewa Dorje and her children Bodhi and Ananda, in Seward Park

“Women like me need a fucking change. This might be the straw that breaks the camel's back in many households and hopefully across society...Women of color are on the front lines of everything - nurses, teachers at all levels, daycare, grocers, custodians, CNAs/RNAs - women of color are the caretakers of everyone...We are trusted with the world’s children, and the world’s elderly, but we are not the ones making big decisions.”

Dewa is a Tibetan American stand-up comedian who was performing several evenings a week, until all bookings were cancelled due to Washington’s stay-at-home-orders. She has since joined other comedians in streaming performances. “Stand up is so important to me and I wish I could be on stage right now talking about my views on Covid. Streaming is a cool alternative, but nothing beats trying to make a crowd of people who hate you laugh.”

Her days are filled with homeschooling and directing her kids’ online, artistic, and exercise activities. Though not used to “being on” all the time as a parent and full-time teacher, Dewa feels her family is adjusting. “We cooperate very well...and when I don’t have the energy to go full throttle mom, they know it is going to be ok, and they will need to step up and do more to help out.”

She worries about finding additional sources of income, not being able to find work because of childcare and schooling conflicts, and that her children’s father won’t be able to pay child support because he isn’t working. “I am concerned that our government is writing checks that it can’t cash and it has no plan. What the fuck is $1,200 going to do? We need a real plan to get out of this mess...This shit that is coming our way is going to beat our asses up. We may lose everything—but I am working hard on not focusing on worries. I will prepare for what I can anticipate, plan for possible alternatives, pray and then let it go.“

Kemi Adeyemi and her father Dolly, in Everett

“My dad says it's helped everyone slow down and smell the roses. [It’s forced] the whole world to slow down. No matter what you believe in, you can't deny that there is something out there that is bigger than us.” Kemi and her father have been living together for two years. Dolly recently retired after forty years at the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services and now misses being an essential worker under these circumstances. He feels being back in the workforce would put him in a better position to help his coworkers and former clients navigate the fallout from Covid-19. Dolly spends his days considering the ways this crisis might result in beneficial change, and wonders if this may present a new challenge for him during this chapter of his life.

As an events manager whose hours have been reduced due to the shutdown, Kemi said that she is worried about her career, lack of work, and looking after her father. “It's such an anxiety filled time. It's hard to concentrate on making career decisions. I do most of the grocery shopping and running of errands for the household. I worry I may expose my dad to the virus even though I take all the recommended precautions.”

Like her father, Kemi hopes that the challenges will also bring about positive shifts, especially in the way we talk about mental health. Kemi is optimistic that the widespread depression, anxiety and trauma that is being experienced on a global scale will lead to reduced stigmas surrounding issues of mental health. “I am hopeful this situation is creating an empathy we have not seen before. Perhaps a deeper feeling of connection instead of an ‘us vs. them’ mentality.”

David Cravens-O’Farrell, in Maple Leaf

"I'm a building trades journeyman plumber...I’ve been doing this for thirty years. Got laid off because of the Covid and my condition of having lupus." While waiting to be reinstated into a less risky work environment, David follows news on the coronavirus closely. He admits to a “morbid fascination” with the infection and death rates in all of the affected countries, and feels vindicated over his initial fears about the spread of the virus. He recalls his discussions over work on construction sites with people whose beliefs were far more right-leaning than his own, who were skeptical or dismissive of the early stages of the pandemic, and teased him over his concerns. “Well,” he remarks, “nobody’s laughing now.”

As someone who is battling lupus, David is acutely aware of the attention being drawn to hydroxychloroquine by the president. He has thus far been able to secure a month’s supply of the drug he needs to stay healthy, but his insurance company won’t authorize a larger supply than that. As long as he has a month buffer, he states he’ll be okay; however he admits to concerns over reports about shortages of the drug in other areas of the country.

He’s frustrated with some of his neighbors' careless attitudes on social distancing. “There’s people who are just...they’re not paying attention. You know, it just hasn't sunk in yet. Most people are doing really well. [For others] I’m a little dramatic, making a statement of ‘Look, I’m walking way around you,’” hoping to make his point. "But people are stupid.”

During the stay-at-home orders he’s taught himself to play guitar, and meets with friends frequently for online gaming sessions, though he concedes that isolation has its downsides: “I think I’d rather be stuck with somebody.” He plans to adopt a cat from a shelter once they reopen to the public. He’s also looking forward to getting back on his motorcycle. “I’m watching the temperature. As soon as it gets in the mid 50s, I'm thinking about going for a ride...I tried to talk a friend into going with me, but she’s like ‘I don’t think the back of a motorcycle seat is six feet away!’ I’m like [jokingly], ‘You know, at 60 mph there’s no coronavirus!’”

Paul Maier and Isaac Rivers, in Capitol Hill

“Isaac and I are a recently engaged couple. We're coming up on five years together.” The two work for the same company (Paul full time and Issac as a contract worker) and have a day-to-night routine for using their 500 square-foot, one-bedroom apartment as a shared home office. “We look at our home in a new light, as a sort of convertible object or a transformer. During the work day, furniture swings around, boxes to raise laptops come out from hiding, headphones and stashed mice come out of cupboards, and all the bedroom pillows become bolsters for our posture. When the workday is through, we have a new ritual for commuting home from work...We do a cleaning scrimmage to undo our WFH transformation and hide all of the work equipment in the apartment. Our goal is to make the apartment have no trace of work, so that we can start the next phase of the day.”

While the couple is content in managing their own environment, Paul acknowledges concerns about the things they cannot control. As they are not yet married, Isaac does not have health insurance. They worry about potential scarcity of supplies in their area as the pandemic drags on. They discuss what kind of situations might arise if people get desperate and look to take things from others. For some of their friends and family, things are manageable. Others are barely holding on. The same questions reverberate with Paul, Isaac, and those they care about: “Will this be over soon? Will we have the resources to survive this?"

Miriam and Sven Larson, children Griffin and Isabeau, and Ruthie the dog, in Kirkland

"When people started dying at Life Care we began staying at home, before the schools closed or anyone else was really panicked.” The Larson family lives less than a mile from the nursing home that emerged as the focal point of the virus’ outbreak in Washington state. Miriam had been following news on coronavirus all winter and was deeply concerned with what she saw happening in China. Her apprehension intensified when the first case appeared in Washington, and continued to grow as it seemed to her that others were not overly worried by the news of the virus’ arrival.

Like many others, they have found that a daily routine is important. Weekdays are scheduled around the daily materials sent from the children’s school. Zoom meetings and phone calls with friends and family happen a few times a week, as well as regular family movie nights and home baking sessions led by Sven. Both Miriam and Sven have delivered supplies to family members while maintaining social distancing. In what Miriam describes as a ‘big, exciting, excursion,” the family brought spring flowers to friends' doorsteps and were able to wave to other children and their parents from the car.

Miriam runs her own small architecture firm, and Sven is a project manager. Work hours for Miriam are limited to times when the children are asleep or with Sven. Miriam’s work has slowed to almost nothing, which is terrifying to her. She feels lucky that Sven still has his job, but is keenly aware that both their incomes are needed. “But our children are safe and healthy, and we are safe and healthy, so we are taking it one day at a time.”

Greg and Rachel Nyssen and their son Francis, in Maple Leaf

Greg works in the tech industry—he and Rachel are also artists and creators. Greg estimates that under the current conditions, he gets “more family and kid face-to-face time,” and is living “a more intimate life” with extended family and friends due to the spike in video chat adoption. The family goes for more walks, and enjoys more time to indulge in movies and music. He’s drinking less beer because it’s generally reserved for socializing, though “at-home cocktails have skyrocketed.” Still he says, “This all sounds like life is better, but not seeing friends and going out has led to some interesting sanity checks.”

His primary concerns about the virus are at home. His son, Francis, is on medication that results in him being immunocompromised, and is on leave from his job because he can only get there by public transit, which they view as too risky. “Seems not everyone is playing by the same rules,” said Greg. “I go on a walk and see more people than before at the local park fraternizing...Seeing the cavalier attitude people are showing here and there, makes me concerned for him and others at risk.“

Lauri Miller, in Ballard

Lauri is retired, and manages a neighborhood Facebook group with eleven thousand members. The group has seen “a rush of new members and an outpouring of generosity." Her neighbors are worried about their local businesses and the people they employ. They are anxious to know if there are any members of the community that need assistance. Mixed with news about neighborhood events, announcements, and memes, members post questions and updates about how they are coping. She moderates and contributes to posts—what people are baking while stuck at home, what restaurants are open for take out, and what parking and liquor regulations are being relaxed during the epidemic. “We are mostly past the 'Store X is out of hand sanitizer!' posts, but toilet paper shipments are still greeted with excitement.”

When the reality of the outbreak first began to settle into the community, Lauri felt compelled to educate people and push back against the dubious information that was being disseminated in some circles. She reports that helping people get access to legitimate, vetted information has had the bonus side effect of reducing her anxiety. Lauri finds the hardest part of this experience to be not knowing when it will end. “We can’t make plans, and it’s hard to find concrete things to look forward to.”

An avid dancer, she was out every night before the lockdown. “Waltz, Swing, Tango, any type of partner dance. I love it for the community, the exercise, the friendships, and the ride. I can remember the sinking feeling when the implications of the coronavirus hit me...It was heartbreaking, but touch dancing is the perfect storm for contagion - dancing in the arms of a number of people who then go on to dance in the embrace of others. So we stopped. All of it. To save lives.” Although she stays in touch with her dancing partners online and passes the time watching dance movies, the loss of her cherished activity is keenly felt. “It’s difficult not knowing when we will be able to dance together again.”

Lisa Sotelo, in Wallingford

“The biggest challenge that I see in my community of friends is lack of work. This is having a huge impact financially and emotionally.” Lisa was vacationing in Europe in early March, when travel restrictions for the U.S. were announced just three days into her trip. On the fourth day, she learned that the staff of the museum catering team that she managed were to be furloughed. As she followed the news of the spreading outbreak and tightening of travel restrictions, and struggled to make arrangements to come home early, she learned that her own position was to be furloughed. “The world was slowly starting to close in on me and I didn’t have a job to come home to. Meanwhile I was on social media trying to find out how my staff was doing with getting on unemployment.”

After a beleaguered return trip to Seattle, she’s stayed busy by making meals for unemployed friends, but admits “I will eventually go stir crazy...I’ve joined Marco Polo and have a few chat feeds going with friends. I’ve had a couple of Skype dates. So far, I’m not feeling too lonely. I have an online session with my therapist next week.“

As she cuts personal costs—and lives off unemployment benefits—she continues to check in on those close to her. “My friends are all over the place. Some are handling this “work from home” very well. Others are experiencing extreme anxiety. One person I know has lost their home and is currently looking for a couch to sleep on.“

Amirra And, in Capitol Hill

Amirra works as both a real estate broker and a barre workout instructor. While she is able to continue her real estate work under current restrictions, the fitness studio where she taught has shut down. She misses the tight-knit community of teachers and clients. She laughs a bit when she talks about the loss of her fitness class. “It sounds so lame, but it's a lifestyle, and a huge part of my identity. It's my soulmate workout, my platform, my sanctuary, my social time, my church. We call my classes Barre Church.”

To stay connected to her community in lieu of her daily classes, she records irreverent “QuaranTina” workout videos for social media, along with daily themed group photo challenges for her followers to contribute to. This is her creative outlet, and a way for her to give those in isolation something lighthearted and motivating to look forward to each day. She finds purpose in this - and a way to work through her fears during the quarantine. “I'm a pretty positive person, but I still experience waves of anxiety and concern for my community. I've found the best thing for me is to acknowledge my fear. Let them be seen and then let them fade away.”

“We've all got a role to play right now. We all have an ability to contribute to our communities. The sooner you know what your role is, the sooner you can step into it. I am crystal clear that my role during this crisis is to encourage and create opportunities for people to giggle, and feel like they are a part of something. It doesn't mean I don't get frustrated and sad, and sometimes [I don’t] want to get out of bed. It means I know my strengths. And that's what's going to get us through this. Each of us, operating in our strengths.”