Whatever he was referring to, Spock was definitely not talking about Covid-19. But I am. It is truly extraordinary how quickly life has changed in such a short space of time. Just a week ago, I was reeling from the disappointment of my yoga holiday in Spain being cancelled and still imagining I could escape to the Andalucian Hills for some weeks of refuge. That seems ridiculous now when everything has been cancelled and life as we knew it has, for the time being, stopped and stopped everywhere around the world (to varying degrees). The speed with which this has happened has made the transition shocking and hard to process. I am still in a degree of denial, if I’m honest. And this is only the warm up act.
No-one saw this coming. We were not prepared. Hand sanitiser manufacturers certainly weren’t. Nor those that make ventilators or perhaps even loo roll. I am just praying that internet providers have got it covered or we are all doomed.
And what about our own spirits and reserves of resourcefulness? How prepared were we? How able have we been to adapt and course correct to events as they have unfolded? How have we responded to all our travel and social plans being cancelled, to homes being turned into remote offices, shared with spouses and now homeschooled kids, to elderly loved ones being confined to their homes for weeks on end? What have we observed in ourselves with regards to degrees of selfishness and altruism? Anxiety and calm? Resistance and surrender?
Here’s what happened for me.
My initial slump happened at the end of last week, culminating in a call I put out on FaceBook last Sunday, after dissolving into tears in a shop. I knew that FaceBook was supposed to be for projecting life as a happy, successful place. Everyone thinks I spend my life on holiday (a friend told me recently, she thought I must have come into a fortune judging by my travel tales) but I was ready to confess that I was definitely not on holiday and that I was feeling anxious and isolated. I did it for myself and I did it for everyone else that might be feeling similarly but didn’t know how to reach out. The response was incredible I was literally moved to tears by calls and messages (public and private) not only saying hello, but reminding me of what others see and love in me. I was lifted and buoyed beyond measure. Since then I have not looked back — much to my delight and surprise. Having reflected on this, I have identified a few reasons for my resilience.
The first is the paradox I have found in social distancing. The truth is that I feel more connected now to folk than I have for years. People are in touch, they are calling. I have spoken with someone every day this week — on the phone, not just on text. One of the things I struggle with in life is loneliness and I feel more supported and “in it together” than ever. How curious it is that we should find more connection in our isolation. What does that tell us about life as we previously knew it?
And then there is this freedom thing. As a single, self-employed person without children, I have a lot of freedom and I love it. I love being able to choose what I do, when I do it, with whom and in which climate and geography I do it. I value my autonomy and independence deeply and consider myself highly fortunate to have so much of it.
But there is a flipside. What am I supposed to do with all that freedom? What is a good enough, useful enough use of that freedom? Somehow the existential questions that have always been close to the surface of my consciousness in life, loom particularly large in the midst of such freedom. And I feel immense pressure to answer them. Now, however, my choices have been massively reduced. Freedom has been hugely curtailed. I cannot travel. I cannot go to the theatre or the cinema or to a restaurant. My big plans for a sabbatical at the end of the year are even in some doubt. I am, for the time being, grounded. And whilst I would have imagined this to be my biggest fear, I find myself experiencing a lovely kind of calm, clarity and groundedness. I am released from the task of thinking about next month or even next week. I am just thinking about today. I am freed from making choices about where and when and with whom. It is here and now, and often with myself. And in the here and now, I have found companionship. I have found joy in the simplicity of exercising outdoors, in cooking and writing, and contentment in home and neighbourhood. I have found comfort in being still, purpose in offering support to others and mental stimulation in the degree of disruption that is upon us and what that might make possible for us all.
Don’t get me wrong. I have my anxieties and fears. It wouldn’t take much for me to spiral into a different mindset. I know this is going to be a long haul and that it will be a rollercoaster ride for me. But I have experienced myself and day to day life in a different way this week. And, as it turns out, I am grateful for that.