The State of Texas has just announced that due to COVID-19 the State Fair is cancelled this year. What? It’s not fair, I hear myself whining.

I don’t like that whiney voice inside of me. I shut her up immediately. Of course, it’s fair. Despite all the people who won’t get to enjoy the annual event, all the kids who won’t get “fair day” off from school, all the rides that won’t be ridden and food that won’t get eaten, it’s fair. Despite all the people who depend on the state fair for their livelihood and those who moonlight to earn enough to get them through the year, it’s fair. It’s fair to shut down the fair. Because if we didn’t, they tell us, many more people might die. And, I believe, everyone involved would forego their day of pleasure, and even their livelihood to save lives. So, I want to immediately shut down the whiney voice that says it’s not fair.

And that’s how I’ve felt about my chronic pain and ailments. I can see little six-year-old Dina (see my post Soothers: Self-Care for Chronic Pain Relief for pic) looking at me with her outraged face and whining – It’s not fair.

Why do I have all this arthritis? Why do I have to lose my hearing? Why do I have thyroid disease?

And I immediately want to shut her up. Think of all the people who have it worse than you, I tell myself. Be thankful you don’t have cancer.  Your joints hurt but you can still walk.  You have all your limbs.  You can still hear in your other ear.  You’ve had the ability to hear all your life, some people aren’t so fortunate.  And the litany goes on as I shame little six-year-old me for whining that it’s not fair.

If someone offered to transfer this health burden from me to themselves would I take them up on it? Of course not, if lifting my burden means they must carry it.  Forcing someone else to take a burden for the sake of fairness only breeds resentment. It doesn’t lead to solutions.

But not acknowledging the pain you feel in the moment, dismissing it as ungrateful, shaming what you feel as not worthy of a place in this world isn’t helpful either.

Because of COVID-19 woes, maybe we all need a collective – It’s not fair. Let’s indulge ourselves in the sadness of this for a moment. We need to say, you’re right, six-year-old Dina.  It’s not fair.  And embrace us and breathe through the pain and the sadness of – It’s not fair.  Life’s not fair. And that’s really sad sometimes. Let’s allow ourselves to be sad. Acknowledge that it’s not fair, but it’s what we have.    

Because, if I live in it’s not fair, I wind up bitter and unproductive.  If I push away it’s not fair and shame myself for the thought, I wind up resentful.  But if I let it be there, breathe it in, let that thought exist with the thought of “and we’ll overcome it”, then I can come from a place of love and acceptance that energizes me into action.

It’s not fair that there will be no State Fair of Texas in 2020. But the truth of the matter is, I rarely go to the fair anymore.

We always went when the kids were young and only wanted the rides and the cotton candy. It was hot and crowded. I don’t like the crowds. I don’t like the heat, I’m already out in it all day long anyway. I don’t eat flour and sugar so corny dogs and funnel cakes are not on my radar. And with Meniere’s Disease, I don’t do rides. Honestly, I haven’t been to the fair in years. And going into that crowd with COVID-19 on the loose?  No way. I won’t even go to the grocery store.

But I think I love just knowing that the State Fair is happening. 

That people attend and are happy and loving it. I love the tradition of it, dating back to 1886 and that people have full-time jobs and opportunities because of it. I love Big Tex in his giant cowboy boots and hat with the Ferris wheel behind him. I love people winning blue ribbons and crazy fried food concoctions. I love that it’s the kickoff to fall and back to school and college football. I love the flashy shows of innovation and animal tricks. I just love knowing that it’s happening.

So, I promise you State Fair of Texas, when you come back, I will attend, if only to revel in the fact that we can have our State Fair again.

It’s not fair. I know. It’s not fair. And that’s sad. I’m virtually hugging you all right now.

I know if I had attended the State Fair this year, I would’ve spent at least $100 on tickets and parking alone. There won’t be a State Fair this year and a lot of people will hurt because of that. My heart aches for them. But I will attend in spirit by donating that $100 to the food bank or community outreach program that best serves the Fair Park area and the people who rely on the economy of the fair. I encourage you all to reach out to those who are carrying the burden of COVID-19 if you can.

No Fair? It’s not fair, but we will come out better on the other side of not fair.

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