Self-love in times of the Cholerona
Since the author and columnist Karina Lübke (Myself, Barbara, Brigitte) has written for the Zeitgeist magazine Tempo, I have been following her really funny, sometimes very sarcastic observations about life and love. For me, she is the "queen of the first sentence" – and that is important for me, if not even decisive, for continuing to read a text. In her columns for the magazine Barbara, a loving mirror is always held up to me, and I can see myself reflected in it. Moreover, I have had the great fortune to get to know her better in recent years, and we moved almost simultaneously from Harvestehude to Eppendorf. She has become an important advisor and listener to me – for which I would like to say thank you here.
When I asked Karina if she wanted to write something for the Coronalogy, she spontaneously messaged me something – but then suddenly there was much more to say, and this great report was created.
I'll start with the positive: So far, I have stayed healthy, and so have my mother and my two children. For that, I am incredibly grateful. Otherwise, I have been trying for weeks not to go crazy in all this other madness. It's like "Stranger Things," season 4-100: Evil lurks out there, the tear to the underworld is open. Even the sun in this April summer somehow seems artificial, while everything else appears deceptively normal.
Scenes of a pandemic: It was two weeks ago on my picturesque cobblestone street in Hamburg-Eppendorf, which is also often used as a backdrop for filming. The friendly residents were sitting on their beautifully planted Art Nouveau balconies on a Saturday morning, having breakfast peacefully and socially distanced, when an ambulance pulled up, stopped, and two figures in white full-body disaster protection suits with hoods got out, fully masked their faces, slung EKG cases and the mobile oxygen device over their shoulders, and trudged into the neighboring house. Eventually, they came out again with a middle-aged woman in their midst, loaded her into the vehicle, and drove off. No, this time it wasn't filming: There it is again, that tear in the matrix. The feeling of being stuck in a disaster movie for which I never bought a ticket. One with such a stupid, unbelievable script that Hamburgers are not allowed to cross the border into Schleswig-Holstein, let alone to the North or Baltic Sea. And no one yet knows how endlessly long it will last and who will not survive it - physically, mentally, financially.
For me as an author - as well as for many friends and colleagues who work freelance creatively - the catastrophe has meanwhile become everyday life. Besides our nerves, we also have a lot to lose: book publishers and events are lying in artificial coma waiting, market-ready projects are on hold, publication dates have been postponed. The book market collapsed by more than 30 percent in March compared to the previous year. Readings are not possible, book fairs canceled. Also, the major magazine publishers are not awarding any new assignments to freelance authors for the next three months. I know, it can always get worse; I don't even want to start with all the actors, singers, etc., who need a live audience and performances for their art. The entire cultural sector is currently being flattened, solo self-employed, once hyped as the "Me-AG," are slipping through almost all safety nets. Those who cannot already retreat into self-isolation on a thick financial cushion now have real existential fears: artists are the other kind of risk group.
It seems to be a never-ending horror. Who knows what autumn 2020 will bring? How long will we have to endure this until everything can get better again? Yesterday I read the following internet joke: "When we look back on Corona later, we'll be laughing in each other's arms and say, those were maybe crazy 12 years!" This uncertainty and the constantly contradictory instructions, which also vary from state to state, drive you totally crazy. "On days like these," as "Fettes Brot" sing in their brilliant video, you hang from one cognitive dissonance to the next.
Yes, many people are considerate and supportive in big city life - but many are exactly the antisocial, inconsiderate assholes you always suspected them to be. In my opinion, the times of Cholerona will still drag on; at the first relaxations, everyone will rush outside, to the sunny spots in the city, and push aside the precautions. Finally some freedom again, longing for normality, I can well understand that. People have gotten used to the daily disaster reports. The easing of restrictions is not due to medical reasons, but societal-political and economic calculations. And probably soon after, the second wave of new infections, I fear.
It's getting harder to see house arrest as quality time for self-optimization. Sure, theoretically after months in the cocoon of self-quarantine, I could emerge as a butterfly in summer. The beach body would be sculpted through online streamed and carpet-performed yoga and HIIT classes - but what's the use if you can't go to the beach? My pants just laugh and shake their buttons. I feel like I've lost control over my life and my self-efficacy even without sweatpants. My worries are hard to meditate away, so I chew on some food and licorice to calm down. If I have a beer in the evening, I fall asleep better. Luckily, I don't have a dysfunctional partner at home nor small children I have to homeschool on the side. I have deep sympathy for all parents!
Are you really out there, managing to optimize yourselves even in these times? If so, I truly admire and congratulate you. But I am often just too sad to be cheerfully productive. Angry and stunned at how this virus could spread worldwide so quickly despite warnings from Wuhan. Why the rest of the world was so poorly prepared, even though air traffic continued unabated. When even my obedient citizen self thought back in December, seeing the images from Wuhan, damn, this won't stay in China - then why not the health minister, who can't even manage to wear his face shield correctly and squeezes into the fully packed hospital elevator? You should only expose yourself to social media in minimal doses because of this. I immediately unfriend anyone who cheers that Mother Earth is now cleaning herself and that, justly, only the elderly would die from this brilliant virus, "who have ultimately driven this planet into the ground." Often a photoshopped picture of dolphins in the Venice lagoon is posted with it. If I didn't have to keep physical distance, I'd want to slap the next person who quotes Helmut Schmidt/Gandhi/a fortune cookie with "Character is revealed in crisis." Although it's basically true.
Honestly - I admire people who see an opportunity in every crisis, who structure their home confinement days well (which at least in real prison is taken care of for you). I myself will probably emerge from the Corona cocoon eventually with a few more kilos and a few fewer muscles; also with a record-breaking hairline. But hopefully healthy, happy, and with great gratitude: I may not have advanced, but I got through it. I am exhausted, but we made it. I have a dream: Finally not having to panic and dodge other people on the street like in a cheap video game, as if they were zombies or contact poison! I want to finally visit my 87-year-old mother again, who lives lonely and alone in her little house by Lake Steinhude. And I didn’t even know until now how insanely much I love hugging, squeezing, and cherishing my friends. I can hardly wait until that will be legal again.
About the author:
Karina Lübke first studied design at the Folkwang School, earned a diploma in fashion, and then completed the Hamburg School of Journalism with Wolf Schneider. She subsequently became an editor and columnist at TEMPO and then freelanced for, among others, SZ-Magazin, DIE ZEIT, emotion, SALON, Myself, Brigitte MOM. Lübke published various short stories in thriller anthologies and was awarded the "Marlowe" for them. Her first novel "Bei aller Liebe" was published in 2007. Her monthly column "Bitte recht feindlich" in the magazine BARBARA has a large fan base and will be published as a book early next year, as will her next novel. In between, she got married, raised a daughter and a son, and got divorced.