I want you to think about a pothole for a moment.
While I'm no expert in psychology — no expert in anything, really — I'm willing to bet you thought of a specific example of a pothole you've avoided. For me, the first to come to mind was one I saw behind a Starbucks in Worthington. It is a whopper. An absolute unit. The pavement doesn't so much seem as though it's been broken by erosion; it looks more like a sketch from one of Einstein's early journals. Reality distorts around this pothole. I'm almost certain that if I were to drive over it I would be swallowed and spaghettified. I would exit somewhere near Cassiopeia.
The point I believe I was trying to make is that we're all going a little stir-crazy right now. None of us have experienced anything like this before, and many of us are suffering from heightened anxiety about our safety and the safety of our families. If you're especially empathetic you're also concerned about people you don't know (if this last bit describes you, we would probably make good friends.)
A way I've been keeping the stir-craziness abated is by taking drives to places I find familiar. Because there are fewer and fewer places that are safe to go, my drives have shifted from having standard destinations. I'm not going to get coffee in New Albany; drink beer and play arcade games in Dublin; or going to work.
When I can't quite stand trying to play Red Dead or Animal Crossing on the couch, or when rubber banding my Twitter feed is proving especially distressing, and I feel like I just need to get away from these walls, I visit my old friend, Chonky Pothole.
Chonky Pothole doesn't need me to stick around for a while. Chonky Pothole isn't wearing a mask, but I'm not too worried about it. It's something I can visit for a short time with intentionality. It gives me an opportunity to get out of the house safely while minimizing the potential danger to myself or others.
I'd encourage you to visit a favorite pothole just for a little while. Maybe it'll help you, too.