Lockdown: From the Trenches
What we’ve been through since this all started has been an eye opener. Something unprecedented, something none of us have experienced in our lives, and hopefully never will again. I’ve wanted to document it, stay calm enough to have focus on what to document — the anxieties not quite staying at bay.
Here in the UK we’ve endured having to stay in during unseasonably hot weather, depressing rain for days (no snow-unlike last year thankfully), several weeks (I’ve lost count and don’t want to remember) of no garden, no family, no boyfriend near me.
There have been some positives. I’ve read more books than I did outside of all this, learned new software, how to draw again, felt gratitude beyond anything I’ve felt before, like, proper gratitude. Felt guilt because I have money coming in, have a roof over my head, have my health.
Raised money for charity. Still felt like that wasn’t enough.
Anxieties about my own family, who haven’t been taking this seriously, their own anxieties have pushed them to do risky things, for alcohol.
Started reading 1984 (Orwell), felt suspicious of how similar some of the things being said on social media by the authorities have been. Learning how to think reasonably and not let the 5Gers, the conspiracy theorists, the lockdown protestors, the rabid right panic us. The government I didn’t vote in feeling a little bit disappointing.
Muting most relevant words on social media to avoid being overloaded, never watching the news.
Having to spend infinite time ‘online’. Talking, painful ears due to the constant earphones, having to be alert, aware, show interest, when most of the time wanting to hide under the duvet until this all blows over.
Avoiding the constant ’99 tips on how to remote work’ posts written by someone who’s only been doing it a week.
All of the different kinds of relationships you have with people have changed, the ‘meeting up’ by video, text, phone call — the distractions, the lack of human contact, unable to read who you’re talking to because they’re just a voice. The new street etiquette, the 2m distancing, the contradictory feelings you get knowing people don’t want to be near you, and the similar feelings you get backing away from them too. The anger if someone comes just that little bit too close. The knowing smile or the glance at the floor.
Not knowing if there will be enough food or bog roll, whether starvation would finish me off before the corona got here.
The anger, heartache, anxiety, gratitude, ingratitude and all of the other contradictory emotions that roll around daily.
Watching safe in my small home while families are torn apart, losing loved ones, intensely sad stories of people talking on Twitter one day and dead the next. Nurses, keyworkers, human beings being taken down by something unseen.
It feels like a film. A video game. Surreal. Where’s the off switch?
