I’m sitting on the deck outside the only cafe in town in Occidental, California. It’s a one street town about 20 minutes from the coast. It sits in a bowl of redwoods and Douglas firs. The air feels clean and there is no cell service. It’s an early February 2022 morning and the sun is baking my skin. It hasn’t rained in almost a month despite it being the middle of rain season. I can’t complain though, I’m in a t-shirt in the dead of winter and my face is tan.

A young woman who works at the cafe is sweeping the leaves outside. She’s wearing a cloth mask covered by an N95 mask. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she looks away. She anxiously mumbles hello to me and I do the same before we both look away. Her at the broom, me at my computer. I feel a pang in my heart.

I wasn’t going to the get the vaccine. But I still listened to everyone who adamantly said I should. I read the articles in the New York Times with with a healthy dose of skepticism. At the same time, I listened to the people who were holding out. Most of my social circles were of that camp. And I listened to podcasts from people who questioned the integrity of the whole thing. I felt pretty firm in my decision.

But I was in a tough time. I moved to Occidental with my girlfriend and her 8 year old daughter in July 2021. We’d only been together for a year. It was a huge move and it was difficult. We had no community here and with everything being shut down, it was nearly impossible to meet people. So all we had in the beginning was each other. And we were so new and it was so fragile. Eventually it cracked. We were on the rocks and I reached out to friends. I needed support.

I met up with one of my best friends who lives in San Francisco. We met halfway in Marin for a walk. He was wearing a mask outside. I needed a hug. He couldn’t give it to me. His sister was pregnant and she had explicitly requested that he not hug me because I am unvaccinated. I felt a pang in my heart.

Shortly after that, there was an event in San Francisco where a bunch of my old friends and colleagues would be. I really wanted to attend and to connect with those people, but it was vaccinated only. I needed that event. I needed that connection. I emailed the organizer. I was so desperate that I said I’d consider getting the vaccine. He said: “Great to hear from you! Are you able to get J&J?” It was incredible to see a decision that had felt like it carried so much weight to be reduced to that simple of a response. I felt a pang in my heart.

I didn’t attend the event. It turned out I needed 2 weeks after the J&J vaccine anyways and there wasn’t enough time. A week later I received a call from family that my 30 year old cousin in Oklahoma was in the E.R. on a respirator because she had Covid. She was unvaccinated. She died a week later. I didn’t know her well. But I felt a pang in my heart. And I received calls from family who emphasized that I was also 30 and unvaccinated. And that it was my duty to get vaccinated, if nothing else, to honor my cousin.

I cracked. And so I scheduled the appointment. I cancelled it 2 times. The day I finally showed up to the Rite-Aid there was a line of 10 people waiting for boosters. Everyone had masks on and looked down at their phone as they waited. When it was my turn, I went in for the Pfizer shot. Without much of a conversation, the lady jabbed me and told me that a small percentage of men my age have had swelling in the heart area. If that happened to me, I should reach out to my doctor. Ok. I felt a pang in my heart.

My girlfriend was sad about my decision. She felt betrayed. She thought we shared values. My decision to get vaccinated was, to her, a sort of divergence of value systems. I suppose my decision to get vaccinated signalled that I was still chained by the system that we were working to move away from. The distance between us grew. I feel a pang in my heart.

The day after my 2nd jab, my body was paralyzed for almost 2 days. Couldn’t taste or smell. But they say that isn’t a side effect of the vaccine. Perhaps I had Covid? So I got tested but it was negative. I bounced back. Kind of. Since then, my health has progressively and then rapidly declined. That heart swelling? Ya, that happened. Four weeks after the vaccine, I went to the E.R. to get an EKG because I had such an intense pain my heart area. I’m 30 years old, incredibly healthy and active and have done yoga daily for almost 10 years.

The chest pain has since gone down, but remains present in the form of chronic inflammation in my upper chest. Then a week later I got Covid and lost my smell and taste again. Oh ya, and that doesn’t account for the depth of the depression I have experienced during that time. Perhaps it’s all the factors? The separation, the challenges in my personal life, the stress of winter. How much of it is the vaccine? I have no idea. But it’s undeniable that my life has progressively gotten worse since I got the jab.

So now here I am all vaxxed up and alone. I don’t agree with the vaccines and the mandates. But an overwhelming desire for connection drove me to say fuck it and to get the jab. The result has actually been quite the opposite. I don’t fit cleanly into any of the narratives. Anti-vaxxers are confused because I’m vaxxed! Can’t be pro-vax because I don’t agree with the approach. Can’t even really be part of the “body autonomy” narrative because I didn’t listen to my body. My body and heart said no. My mind said yes, and it won. Anyone want to join me in the “I got vaxxed because I was confused but I regret it and I think the vaccine is bullshit and I am actually very much against it but I still believe everyone should have a choice but the reality is that most people won’t be able to make an informed choice because there is such an overwhelming public narrative that squashes any thought or information that is contradictory to vaccines being the answer” group? I feel a pang in my heart.

I’ve never been a particularly “stable” person emotionally. I’ve gone through periods in my life of pretty deep depression and anxiety. I’ve used alcohol and drugs and work and other addictions to suppress those experiences. I got pretty good at it. But there was a constant thread in my life: authentic connection. That’s what gave me the power to pull up my boots on go on my way. When I couldn’t find that connection inside myself, I found it by looking in the eyes of others and knowing that I am not alone. Not anymore. I feel a pang in my heart.

I have never felt more alone in my life than I do right now. I have never felt so disconnected. So full of despair and grief. For the first time in my life, I look at the world and I wonder what is the point? I look up at the trees and I wonder what their experience is. What it’s like to watch us pour concrete all over the ground below them so we can zip around in two ton steel tanks wearing masks. I watch an older man slip his mask on and slip inside the cafe. I wonder how he feels about all of this?

Life starts to feel like a bad trip. Each day a revolution where I get just a bit further away from you. Each day a little more concrete gets poured on top of the soul. I go inside the cafe to order some food. I look at the cashier and try and make some contact. I try and force a smile and so does she. But it’s fleeting. Her mask slips down a bit and she pulls it back up. I click the screen to tip her. I feel a pang in my heart.