Every day I think the worst is over and then it’s not.

As COVID-19 spreads, more people are dying without loved ones being with them — or with each other. Frontline workers are increasingly falling ill and suffering from PTSD as their trauma toil mounts.

Many of us are hungry and not working with bills piling up. Kids remain out of school, alcohol sales are soaring and so is domestic violence.

Though we’re nowhere close to containing the virus, restrictions are being relaxed. How can this be?

Folks understandably are confused, weary of worry and tired of isolating after all this time. Our best scientific evidence tells us what needs to be done, yet there is tremendous pushback.

In short, we are being duped by inept leadership, false news and impotent medical advisors. Some of us seem to be drinking the Kool-Aid, complicit in the rampant gaslighting that’s going on. A few examples:

Our president on April 23 suggested we inject ourselves with disinfectant as a treatment for COVID-19. In attendance, Dr. Deborah Birx, the White House’s coronavirus response coordinator, looked away and remained silent.

Against hospital policy, our vice president on April 28 insisted upon not wearing a face mask as he toured the Mayo Clinic. No medical professional in that entire institution challenged him.

After Centers for Disease Control (CDC) inspections, amid escalating infections and deaths, meat packing plants were ordered to reopen. Who doctored their recommendations? “CDC, Are You OK?” Rachel Maddow asked in her April 28 program, “Under Trump, formerly stalwart CDC goes soft on meat plants.”

How can we intelligently respond when our world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket? Here’s what I’m doing; perhaps, it will serve you as well.

Feel your feelings

Tune in and acknowledge them, no matter how scary. Choose a safe environment.

I actually went ballistic after that disinfectant injection recommendation. My housemate said normally I’m the calmest person she knows. Yet there I was, ranting and raving like a lunatic. Even the dog came over to check on me.

Vent — in non-harmful ways

Talk with a trusted confidant, smash rocks against an empty roadway, scream into a pillow. Figure out what would be the most self-compassionate act you can take at that moment and do it.

Upon completion of my aforementioned meltdown which ended up in tears, I didn’t feel much better. I did, though, gain clarity on what I could personally do right then and there.

Reach out to make it right

Be the change you wish to see. Consider ways, however small, that you can contribute your time, talent or treasure. Don’t wait.

Quickly, I queried a relative working in healthcare policy in Washington, D.C., regarding what actions I could take. Then, I blasted all my colleagues the brand new Alicia Keys song, “Good Job,” that debuted that very day. Finally, I jotted down notes for this article. After that, I did feel better.

Practice gratitude

As bad as it is, consider all the good that is happening. Our society’s brokenness, with its many inequities, is being revealed as never before by this pandemic.

There can be no going to back to same-o, same-o. We have the opportunity of a lifetime for positive change.

These days, when I can’t get to sleep at night, I literally start counting my blessings such as, “I am able to breathe easily, my friend called today who I haven’t spoken to in years, nature is healing itself as we self-isolate…” I always fall asleep before I finish the list.

Keep caring — with your thinking cap on

Refuse to become numb or disconnect. Don’t drink the Kool-Aid. Stand up to gaslighting.

Use your hard-earned critical thinking skillset. Follow the science, not the lemmings.

I continue to protect myself and others by abiding with stay-at-home orders and social distancing. I keep washing my hands, disinfecting common household touch points and wearing a mask in public. This is how we take care of each other right now.

Ernest Holmes wrote, “Fear and faith both demand that you believe in something you cannot see. You choose.”

I choose faith, but not blind faith. Will you?