Now, if there’s one thing I’m particularly proficient in, it’s catastrophising. It’s like the story of Chicken Little – once an acorn falls, I will become absolutely convinced that the sky is falling.
Normally, this is difficult enough to manoeuvre. Over the years, I’ve been trying to fight the fear, cornered in my mind with thoughts roaring and clawing at my subconscious while I mentally take the stance of a lion-tamer, armed with chair, whip and constant rebuttals to keep the ‘What Ifs’ back. Over the last month, those roars have become screams, an unrelenting banshee, wailing of worst-case scenarios.
The trouble is, in a pandemic, worst-case scenarios suddenly become very viable possibilities.
There’s no sugar-coating it – it has been a distinctly difficult start to the year. Coronavirus has swept the globe in just a few short months, bringing with it a huge amount of uncertainty. The unknown is stretching out ahead of us in more ways than one; as well as the looming virus and in a display of spectacularly terrible timing, I’ve found myself out of a job (as have countless others). Given the current economic climate, it’s difficult to say when I (or anyone else) will find something else, or where we stand financially.
Not only that, but I’ve found that losing my job, (or at least, facing that I will, as I’m still contracted until mid-April), has shaken my idea of my identity. I’m not a wife, a girlfriend, a mother, a home-owner, and so my predominant achievement and idea of who I am was hinged on my career. It’s funny, we work for years on grades, exams, degrees and experience to progress up the ladders of education and employment to find that no matter how carefully we stack a house of cards – they’re ultimately still made of paper, and will fall down around you given the slightest push.
Combined with a fairly traumatic incident at the end of last year (with no real resolution signalled any time soon), the death of our beloved family cat, and the discovery that someone has freely and fraudulently been spending my money… it’s been all too easy to dwell on the negative. Really, it’s indescribably difficult to visualise a light at the end of the tunnel when you’ve spent the last few days alternating from sobbing into a dying animal’s fur to pleading with your bank to give you SOME assistance, and yes you KNOW that they’re busy, and no you CAN’T just ‘visit my local branch’ because have they not seen the news?
I digress. My point is, it’s incredibly easy to dwell. Being negative is the simplest thing in the world, the easiest habit to form and one of the hardest to break.
Truly, though, all I can do right now, is to look at the positive. To focus on the victories, no matter how minute, because they are all that will keep us going. Yes, I am in a financially precarious position (in no small part down to the individual who decided they’d treat themselves to a Hilton stay on my dime. Thanks for that.)
Yes, nothing can ease the grief of the last few months. Yes, the future for the foreseeable is considerably blurred and uncertain. I don’t have a crystal ball, and trying to predict what will happen next is akin to squinting fruitlessly through mottled glass, trying desperately to interpret the shapes and colours on the other side. The truth is, I simply do not know if things will get better or worse.
But yes, there have also been glimmers of light, of hope and happiness.
The endless voice notes and WhatsApp messages of loved ones, of past and present friendships. The smiling faces of my three best friends in the world, on a group video chat. The hot cups of sugared tea, set down next to me by my mother. Singing at the top of our lungs and dancing in the kitchen to 80s music until we fall down, breathless and happy. Slipping into a warm bath. Sunshine and open blue skies finally bidding farewell to the thick, suffocating grey of storm clouds.
The excitable nostalgia of rediscovering my (long passed) childhood on Disney+. The immediate and open embraces, reassurance and offers of help of my closest friends and family upon hearing that yes, I’d hit yet another obstacle. Howling with laughter (yet again) at The Simpsons (my favourite yellow comfort blanket. If a day comes that I don’t laugh at Sideshow Bob stepping onto a rake and murderously murmuring with repressed rage – bury me. I’m already dead.) My beautiful boy (of the feline variety) stretched out in the sunlight.
Flowers. Oh god, I love flowers. Lockdown might have stolen my weekly visits to London florists, but the army of daffodils outside are a defiant reminder that everything. keeps. going. No matter what happens, no matter how euphoric or disastrous a day – the sun will set tonight and rise tomorrow. Joy will subside, tears will dry, the world will continue to spin and the flowers will continue their cycle.
We will get through this. When we do, when we’ve emerged from this temporary house arrest, we’ll each have our own list of tiny victories that got us through – and I personally can’t wait for each and every one.
