It begins the night before. It seems like such a minor thing but yet the anxiety starts in waves whenever you think of it. Each one is a bit more intense than the one proceeding. You tell yourself that it's silly really. Grow up, get over it. After all, it's only a mask.

All of the places you have to attend the next day require people to wear a mask but you can't wear one. Due to a combination of medical and dental difficulties you are unable to use even a simple face covering.

Unfortunately for you, the regional health authority is enforcing a restriction on the physician's ability to write a note to prove your exemption and so you will be forced to explain yourself at the door and hope that they are compassionate to your situation.

They rarely are. Many times you go without basic essentials due to being turned away. You anticipate the looks of disapproval, of judgement. The people that will undoubtedly shout in your face about your selfishness and what a terrible human being you are for not caring about anyone else enough to wear a facemask.

Sadly, you live alone and can't rely on anyone to help you do the things that you need to do but yourself. It's easier for people who have someone that can run for a prescription and other errands. You think to yourself about how much easier they have it. It makes you feel lonely. You miss your partner more now than ever but they passed before the pandemic. You are happy that they didn't have to see these days, it's a thin silver lining you think to yourself.

The following day continues to be top of mind as you pick at your meal during supper. Your stomach is upset now and you don't really feel like eating. You try not to think about it but with every passing hour, it gets harder and harder to distract yourself. Eventually, you go to bed, hungry and distraught, drifting into a restless sleep.

Throughout the night you wake up. Much more often than is usual. You find you have to go to the bathroom or you are incredibly thirsty. You don't realise that this is due to the stress caused by your worry. That your subconscious dwelling on the next day's events are causing you to react in this way. You toss and turn until daybreak and then drag yourself to the kitchen.

You make coffee, you feel exhausted and it seems like it takes forever to brew. The drips falling into the carafe in a slow labourous dribble as you try to make a plan for the day's activities.

You have to go to a few places. Some of them have corporate mask policies in place, others are guided by government mask regulations, some have no mask policy in place at all. You make a decision to go to those places without mask policies first. Depending how things go at the other stops after will decide what else you can accomplish based on how fatigued you are by that point.

One of the places you need to be is the registry office. You've heard countless stories from others about how strict they were. Someone you know even had the police called for not wearing a mask there. Not having access to the internet or wireless payments means you have to go in person. You decide to call ahead to see if there is a way that you can make it go as smoothly as possible. After a bit of time on the phone they decide to let you enter the building without a mask in order to assist you, providing you arrive promptly at a certain time. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Of the places you call ahead to, a couple are partially receptive but a few are downright rude and condescending. One place offers you the option of using a website to order the item and pay for it, and then being delivered the item while you stand outside. Curbside delivery they call it. It would be feasible, except, you try to explain that you don't have the internet. It's difficult to get them to understand without having to explain that you lost your business due to government shutdowns during the coronavirus pandemic and can no longer afford to pay for the internet, or that within days you might have to live without a phone, having long since cancelled the data package.

Little do they know how difficult it was to come up with enough to cover the bill at registries today just for your registration. If not, you would have had no way to get to the city to access medical care that is not offered in the rural setting that you live in. Without access to public transportation, your vehicle is everything to you.

Many of the businesses stand behind corporate policies; legal discrimination made standard by the extrodinary circumstances that are faced globally at this time. The same type of policy that makes it impossible for you to get help from the handouts the government has been offering, while you watch people who definitely do not qualify seem to win Lotto-CVD19. While you struggle to keep your home, let alone the lights on. If you can't shop and pay for your products online, some of them will simply turn you away. The customer no longer has the say, they do. You'll wear a mask, even if it kills you, or you simply will not shop there, so they say.

By the time you have finished making the calls that you can, your hands are shaking. You are on the verge of breaking down. You can feel the desperation gripping your throat as the panic begins to excelerate your heart rate. You haven't even left the house yet and already it has begun. The pressure mounting as you imagine their eyes boring into you with disgust. Your palms are clammy and wet.

You almost decide not to go. It would be so much easier to just stay home. Let the registration lapse, leave the pills at the pharmacy, eat a can of tuna instead of going grocery shopping. If you hadn't made the appointment at the registry office you might not have left the house at all.

You drive to the first place on your list, everything goes well. The small store is empty at this time of day so there are not many customers. That's a relief. While you quickly grab the few items you need you notice the man behind the counter. He's wearing a mask and although you can't see his facial expression, his eyes are like guns firing accusingly in your direction. He doesn't say anything outright but you can tell he isn't happy. Your not wearing a mask isn't the issue, you think to yourself. Another customer comes in, this one wearing a mask. The store clerk is definitely more friendly with him, apparently so. You try to tell yourself that it is because the other customer is there more often, that they have a better repoire.

"You can tap now," the clerk says, pointing at the keypad on the debit machine. You explain that you don't carry electronic payments and that you would like to pay with cash. "No cash, just debit." The clerk says matter of factly.

Eventually you manage to convince him to take your cash for payment as a line begins to form behind you. Everyone in line is wearing a mask. All of them seem to be boring holes in the back of your head. Whether it is real or perceived doesn't matter at this point. The exit seems so far away, you wish you could be outside already.

You gather your items and leave once the attendant provides you with your change. As the door closes behind you a voice carries out from inside like a knife, "it's people like that..."

You want to swallow yourself whole and scream at the same time. It's devastating and unfair. It isn't your fault that you are unable to follow along like they do. Never before have you wanted so badly to just fit in with everyone else.

You get in your car and drive away. You find yourself staying off main roads and lurking on side streets like a common hoodlum, as though someone seeing you drive your car might cause issues. It hardly makes sense and you know it but you are only semi-conscious of it. Your hand operating the signal lights as though autonomously as you dread the next stop on your list.

The story doesn't change much as you visit the following stores but it doesn't get much better either. Each establishment offers a distinct challenge that cannot be prepared for. Each proprietor having their own take on the health recommendations means that it's difficult to know what each situation might present. You do your best to remain cheerful and keep telling yourself it is all in your head. That you are imagining the stares, the off-handed remarks.

By the time you have finished going to the places that will allow you in without a mask it's nearly time to be at the registry office. You pull up outside and notice the few people inside wearing masks. You hope this will go smoothly. You sit in your car as long as possible beforehand, building up the courage to go inside.

When you walk in the door the woman behind the counter asks if you have a mask. You explain that you had called ahead and have a medical exemption. She remembers the conversation and urges you forward. She is quick and thorough and gets you sorted in an expedient fashion. She's pleasant and attentive to detail and it isn't long before you are paying the bill. She also hesitates when you hand her cash but she begrudgingly accepts it without protest.

The other people in the building are the same as the customers in the stores earlier in the day, masked and staring, no one is talking. You are happy that you can't read their minds. It's almost transparent what they might be thinking.

The clerk behind the counter explains that there is a new government policy that was just announced. It states that you have to wear a mask to get your license renewed or you must provide a Doctor's note. Paying for your registration is one thing but if you need to renew your license you will have no choice but to provide a Doctor's Note or wear a mask. You explain that the Doctor told you that they aren't allowed to write Doctor's Notes for mask exemptions. The law does clearly allow for medical exemptions though, you've read it yourself. Good thing your license is still valid for a couple of years, maybe this will all have blown over by then.

The clerk is ready for you to leave so she just repeats herself. It's a losing battle. You pay the bill and exit the building. Careful not to make eye contact with anyone, staring at the carpeted floors leading to the door for fear of catching the gaze of one of the other patrons.

You used to stop by the Post Office every day. It was the highlight of your day. Seeing a couple people you might know and exchanging pleasantries with the Post Person was the next best thing to having company. Especially given the circumstances. Now that they have also implemented a mandatory mask policy you've stopped going but once a week and even then you try to fly under the radar. Going near closing time when there might be fewer people in attendance. It's the first time that you dreaded getting a parcel that might mean that you have to go to the counter to pick it up. Thankfully on this day there is only mail in the box to be collected.

The people working at the Post Office were nice enough and no one had actually said anything regarding your lack of face mask previously but it was still uncomfortable. It all is. The constant explanations, the rejection, it is all so much to bear.

Today the Post Office is full of people. They stand equally spaced on red circles that indicate the distance required to properly physically distance and they mostly wear masks. You are surprised to see a couple of people that also aren't wearing masks. It's refreshing to see them smile and make eye contact with you. It's the first sense of normalcy that you have had since the day before when you started preparing for the day's events.

Here too there are a few people that seem to be nonplussed about your not having a mask on but it's easier to shoulder, you feel as though you are not alone. It's not so much the fact that others are not wearing masks, it's the smile, the facial expression, the connection to another person. Even if for just a brief moment. It seems to make everything proceeding it a distant memory.

Leaving the Post Office renewed, you find a bit of pep in your step. Things might not really be as bad as you thought after all. You silently berate yourself for your foolishness. Even as you belittle yourself in the back of your mind you know that this is the exception. This isn't the first time you've left the house without a mask after all.

You head to the local grocery store. It's the last place other than the gas station that you have to go to before you go home. The day is almost done.

You walk in the door to three rather large young men wearing masks standing in the doorway beside a table with masks on it. One of them says something that is a bit muffled so you ask him to repeat himself. "Mandatory masks," he says, "if you don't have your own you can take one of these."

You explain yourself while they stand with their arms crossed glaring down on you. Eventually one of them uses a radio to call for a supervisor. While you stand there waiting for the supervisor to come a few people walk by with masks on. One of them looks at you and says "oh for heaven's sake just put the mask on" as they walk by. You stare at your shoes and feel about two feet tall, holding back tears as you consider leaving without groceries and going home.

The supervisor finally arrives after what seems as an eternity while you stand on display in the foyer. He apologizes to you and tells you he will speak to the gentlemen on staff as he waves you inside. Another sigh of relief in a roller coaster of a day.

You have a list of the essential items you need and get after striking items off it as quickly as possible. You do your best to ignore sale placards meant to induce impulse buys, telling yourself to just keep to the list. The quicker finished the better.

You stand in the aisle trying to make a decision based on price per volume on a large bag of noodles, hoping to get the best deal on the most amount and thereby avoiding a return trip in the near future. As you do so a woman walks into the aisle as well and starts walking toward you. You move to get out of her way and notice that she is looking right at you. She's wearing a mask so it is difficult to ascertain her facial expression. You remain off to the side giving her ample room to get by but she stops directly in front of you.

"You are a selfish jerk, who do you think you are?!" She screams at you through her mask. "If you can't wear a mask then maybe you shouldn't leave your house!"

You are happy that she is wearing a mask ironically. If she wasn't you are pretty confident that she would be spitting in your face.

"You people make me sick, you only care about yourselves. Completely selfish!" She hollers as she pushes you into the shelving on her way by.

Your heart is pounding as you try to grasp what just happened. There is a pain in your elbow and your shoulder where you made contact with the shelves behind you as you fell backwards. You just stand there aghast. You can't believe that she just did what she did. You have never felt so small and worthless in your life. You look around but there is no one else that witnessed what happened or if there were they didn't stick around to come to your defence.

You grab any bag of noodles within grasp. It no longer matters what the cost is or how much is in the bag. The only thing that matters is getting out of the store as quickly as possible. You are shaking so bad that you can barely hold the basket with your few items inside.

Luckily there is an open till when you get to the front of the store, otherwise you probably would have left the basket on the counter and walked out. As the cashier rings in your purchases she notices that you seem upset and asks if you are okay. You manage a weak smile and tell her that it has been a long day, you're looking forward to getting home. Thankfully she doesn't mention anything about you not wearing a mask.

You pay the bill and gather up your groceries. Walking across the parking lot someone walks past you and mumbles "maskhole" through their face covering. It would feel better if they had just shot you instead.

You place your groceries in the back of your car and get into the front seat. You begin to cry, your head resting in the steering wheel. Soon your sobbing uncontrollably. It simply isn't fair, it's not your fault, you tell yourself as you pound your hands on the dash. You have no idea if anyone can see you and you don't care. You are just, so, done.

People just don't understand. You'd love nothing more than to be just like them. A car accident many years ago left lasting damage that makes it so that just a simple head covering causes you to have migraines that last for days, so even a shield is out of the question, and an ongoing dental issue makes it inconceivable to wear a mask. They don't know and they don't ask. They just seem to want to attack you, to ridicule you. They seem to have no compassion for anyone, even though they appear to be fairly spirited about everyone wearing masks.

You have to wait until the tears subside enough to be able to see to drive, by this time it has been at least a half hour that you have been sitting in the parking lot and your throat aches, your nose running as fast as the tears were just moments previous.

You start your car and drive towards home. You drive right past the gas station. It will have to wait for another day. You simply do not have the energy to withstand one more interaction with anyone else today. You want nothing else than to be at home.

You once again begin telling yourself things to make you feel better, or at least not as bad. Things like, it's all in your head or that everyone is under immense pressure right now and it is causing them to act in a poor fashion. You can't help but see the look in that woman's eyes at the grocery store. You realize now that what you saw was fear. That poor woman is terrified, likely just as you are. She was probably up all night dreading the grocery store as much as you were, although for obviously different reasons.

As you are driving a message comes over the radio indicating that within two weeks, masks will be mandatory in all public places across the entire country. A lump begins to develop in your throat. It feels like someone punched you in the stomach as the stress begins to twist your gut into knots all over again. You wish that you actually did never have to leave your home ever again. You simply don't know how much more of this you can take.

You arrive at home and unload your car into the house. You put away the items you purchased and then you start getting ready for bed. In the back of your mind you are aware that you haven't eaten since this morning but you have no appetite. You kick off your clothes and climb into bed. Exhausted, hungry and likely to toss and turn all night once again. You don't even know if you'll bother getting out of bed tomorrow. It will depend on how you feel in the morning, but, you have your doubts...

Your mind drifts again to the woman in the store who pushed you, you aren't angry at her anymore, now it all just seems incredibly sad.

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Author's Note: These days, with the stress of the current and ever evolving COVID19 situation it is easy to forget that other people are also going through an extraordinary and unprecedented time as well. While it is easy to think that we have all the facts and know what is best for ourselves, it is not easy to walk in someone else's shoes. This story is meant to allow you to do exactly that. To take a few minutes to imagine what it is like to not be able to do as you may be doing. To ask that you think about what it might be like for someone who may not be able to do as you are able to do.

If you see someone in public without a mask, before you shame them or call them out, reflect for a moment that their situation could be more than simple rebellion, their reality may be much more difficult than yours. Chances are, they need your compassion, not your condemnation. We are all just doing what we can.

Let's try to remember to look after one another out there.

Written by Shäman Cröwe

December 2020