Pandemics Make Strange Bedfellows By Jean Copeland

Pandemics Make Strange Bedfellows

By Jean Copeland

“There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust.”

~ Edgar Allan Poe, “The Masque of the Red Death”

Among all the insanity happening in the world during the Covid-19 lockdown, I lost my father to dementia. He was my person, the one who’d shown me unconditional love and support my entire life, and I had coped with the upheaval in my universe the way many had at the time, by drinking. A lot. Not out at bars, but in open garages and in the homes of newer friends whom I’d trusted were safely minding all the prescribed CDC protocols. 

We prided ourselves on our little Covid cohort of middle-aged women diluting our anxieties in booze and good times. The excess and adolescent-like abandon we’d shared while ordinary life was on pause was fun, and it diverted my attention from the sheer fucktastrophy that ensued from a global pandemic. We certainly made the most of the situation, reveling in a “we’re all in this together” mindset for months as we watched for signs that science would save us with a vaccine and the world would soon return to normal. 

But amid all the gaiety, something sinister lurked in our sordid sorority. Looking back, it reminds me of Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death,” the story of wealthy Prince Prospero, who cloisters away a select group of friends in his castle, and they literally have a ball while the ghastly plague kills off all the peasants in his kingdom. Little did he or his revelers know that the pestilence had infiltrated the palace and was lurking among them cleverly disguised as a masquerade guest.

I, too, had been as complacent as Prospero during the lockdown, blissfully unaware of the nefarious guest lurking among us. After all, the toxicity in our cocktail klatch also wore a clever disguise as it moved stealthily throughout. It masqueraded as a sense of sisterhood in which we felt safe and insulated from the mystery virus killing people in droves. I mean I don’t think I’ll ever forget the haunting image of CNN’s daily death toll ticker. Not to mention the fact that I never would’ve anticipated from middle-aged women the level of manipulative games usually associated with girls in junior high. 

However, as happens whenever one gets too close to a contagion, it wasn’t long before I contracted it and started doing things that I once thought were completely out of character for me. But the decadence filled the voids created by the grief over my father’s death and the childhood traumas that I had just begun to unpack. I slipped into unhealthy coping mechanisms like overeating, heavy drinking, and connecting with women who were seeking their own escapes. It was exhilarating, ego-boosting, and most alluring of all…distracting. 

Eventually, though, I started noticing cracks in our seemingly impenetrable Covid fortress. People sometimes aren’t who their meticulously crafted costumes present them to be. The signs are usually there, but you have to be willing to look under the masque. And be willing to believe what you’re seeing even when it contradicts the idealized version of them you’d self-servingly concocted in your mind. I also realized that I didn’t recognize myself anymore. 

Over that eighteen-month period I had become increasingly avoidant, unmotivated, and depressed from the rapid swings between such emotional highs and lows. I’d lost sight of my core values. Worst of all, I’d lost my creative mojo. I hadn’t written anything new during that entire period. I couldn’t hear the stories in my mind, couldn’t find the head space and clarity to sit down and let ideas flow. How could I when the only good thing that can grow from toxicity is a life lesson?

To achieve my resolution for 2022, I had to make a choice. I had to cut ties with people I’d once enjoyed being around. If I didn’t, I’d never find my way back to the path of growth, creative expression, and peace I’d set out on years ago. Coming out the other side of that year of firsts without my dad, I realized that I needed to change the vibe around me. I no longer needed or wanted the situations that made me feel alive during a time when all I wanted to do was shut down. They served me well while I was careening through life in emotional survival mode, but I knew I couldn’t stay in that energy and continue my work trying to evolve into a better version of myself.

If I was to give a theme to 2021, it would be “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” But thanks to my Instagram algorithm, I’ve learned that I owe myself compassion and forgiveness for the decisions I made when I was in survival mode. Sometimes it’s hard to avoid bad choices when you feel trapped in a fortress full of them, and they’re promenading all around you. 

When the fog, the masques, and the head-spinning chaos of Covid-19 finally lifted, I clearly saw the people in my life who matter most. 

In my first new novel since the pandemic, Pantheon Girls, due out May 2023, I again explore the importance of strong, trusting female friendships. Not having sisters and never being close with my mother, my female friends are my family, my tribe. And the true women in my life have remained long after toilet paper shortages, shuddered restaurants, and moronic political ideologies faded like a bad dream. I still enjoy a good party with my lady friends, but these days nobody in my klatch is hiding anything unsavory behind a costume of charm, wit, and solidarity. These ladies possess those traits naturally, and I’m lucky to have had them all in my life for so many years.  

PANTHEON GIRLS

Cassie Burke never believed in second chances. If something didn’t work out, then it was never really meant for her. In the years following two heart-wrenching breakups, she kept her life simple. She focused her energy on her career and best friends of over thirty years, Jenn and Maggie. Tight since their high school days in the 80s, they’ve weathered many storms. The most tempestuous being Deana, who had briefly joined their “pantheon” and stirred things up as only a beautiful lost soul can, testing their friendship and the strength of Cassie’s heart.

Now as Cassie, Jenn, and Maggie plan a celebration for their fiftieth birthdays, none of them are prepared for the whiplash changes their half-century mark year has in store. Least of all Cassie, who discovers a second chance with Deana might be just what her heart needs.

BUY HERE

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, On Writing