An important question to start with: how are you? Genuinely. I know it’s all too tempting to be entirely British and stiff-upper-lippy, brush it off with a ‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ – but honestly… how are you?
To be perfectly honest, I’m not really quite certain of my answer myself. I read recently that the strangest thing about living through a pandemic is the feeling of over and underreacting simultaneously. It’s absolutely true – I’ve found myself living with a perpetual case of doublethink. A wreck one minute, rolling with laughter the next.
Again, there’s something inherently British about ‘not making a fuss’, dulling potential hysteria with false self-assurance that everything is fine and good. But then, every time we switch on the television, the radio, every time we login to social media, there are jarring headlines screaming about DEATH and CHAOS and THE GOVERNMENT SIMPLY NOT DOING ENOUGH. That’s when the ‘everything is fine’ finds itself running parallel with wild, frenetic thoughts of ‘Oh God, what am I going to do?? How am I going to get through this? What’s going to happen to me?’
Whilst one inner voice is almost unbearably soothing, gently clucking that everything will be okay in the end, the other is panicked, garbling a frantic stream of unanswerable questions.
One truth is, nobody knows. But a far more reassuring truth, an indisputable fact, is that we are living through a pandemic. A national emergency. A global crisis. I’m labouring the point, but;
THIS. IS. SERIOUS.
Take this as permission, in black and white words, to FEEL.
It’s okay if you’re eerily calm one moment and weeping the next. There’s no handbook for this, there is no ‘guide to living in lockdown’. There’s no ‘correct way’ to process this.
It’s okay if you’re worried about your family, your friends, your finances, your future. We each have a life, a livelihood, loved ones at risk. You’re allowed to care.
It’s okay if you’re bitterly disappointed about cancelled plans, no matter how superficial they may seem given the circumstances. I’m disappointed to have missed a booze-soaked brunch to celebrate a close friend’s birthday – it doesn’t mean I haven’t grasped the severity of the situation.
It’s okay to feel sad and small and incessantly troubled even if ‘some people have it worse’. Sadness is not a competition (and even if it was, it’s certainly not a contest one should strive to ‘win.’)
Ultimately, we’re all just trying our best to survive. Every 24 hours is a victory, every sunset is another triumph. We did it. We made it through another day.
It makes me want to scream and tear out my hair every single time I see the accursed words ‘unprecedented times’, but I will reluctantly agree that it’s accurate. Overused, but accurate. 2020 threw the floodgates open and we’re all simply trying to stay afloat.
Please, don’t beat yourself up. That is the message I’m trying to convey to you, and to myself. We weren’t ready for this.
Do what you can to make each day a little easier for yourself, without apology. If this has taught us nothing else, it’s that life is too short not to lean into what brings us peace, or joy, or an outlet for grief.
Please don’t feel pressured by should. Nobody will judge you if, by the end of this, you can’t speak Italian or play the piano. You don’t need a side-hustle. You don’t need to be brimming with endless positivity and productivity. Surviving is enough and that in itself is admirable.
If you want to bake, join the masses embracing their first time attempts at banana bread and sourdough.
If you want to exercise, get some air. Get sweaty. Get in the zone. Get clearing a space in the living room to try yoga. Get back up and try again when your arms inevitably crumble whilst planking. (just me?)
If you want escapism, I suggest watching Netflix’s Tiger King. It’s unadulterated mayhem wrapped in sequins and leopard print, and it’s gloriously maddening.
But if you’re not ready for any of that, that’s okay. If you’re struggling, if you’re anxious, if you’re depressed, if you’re desperately tired, if you’re overwhelmed, if you just can’t wrap your mind around this indefinite ‘new normal’…that’s okay. You’re not the only one.
If you want to cry, cry.
It isn’t weakness. It’s a pandemic.
