Covid 19 – When Life Gives You Lemons

Where do we go from here?

At my age, you don’t expect to have to learn life skills all over again, but since the restrictions have been eased in this country, it’s exactly what I have had to do. It’s as if all my knowledge has atrophied like muscles from lack of use. Fourteen months of self-isolation, with only my husband and the dog for company, is a long time. Re-emerging into the world was bound to be a little tricky. However, the interesting thing is that everyone I speak to (and yes, I get to do that again) seems to be feeling the same way, even though their last year has been less confined.

**It’s a big world out there** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Getting together/Keeping your distance

The first, and trickiest thing has been deciding how close our social interactions should be. Do we keep 2 metres apart? Do we keep our masks on? Do we allow a touch or a hug? For the last year or so, all social interaction has been dominated by the niggling fear that your good friend may well be the vector of your demise. Viral infection is worse than living under the Stasi – an ill-placed sneeze or touch could land you in the hospital, or worse, the morgue.

Though all my friends have now had both vaccinations and cases in my hometown are, of yesterday, down to zero, the edge of anxiety remains. Were we all to stay here and not have any visitors, we’d be fine. But the restrictions were barely lifted before folks were off to see relatives and vice versa. Even though the majority of the population have had at least one vaccination, that still leaves a large number with none.

**How I miss hugging my friends!** Image: Christiana Rivers on Unsplash

And I live in a resort. Most British people will be holidaying at home this year, which means my normally rather restrained seaside town will be bursting with tourists as soon as the summer proper begins. Of course, I can hardly blame them wanting a trip to the beach and a change of view, but it throws another level of anxiety into the mix.

Letting our guard down

When seeing friends, we have met quite normally without masks or especially distanced. I’ve even had the first people in my house. It’s been an exciting week. But it is also exhausting. On Saturday, I think I slept for about 15 hours – recovering from all the birthday visitors the week before. And to be honest, it’s not just the flurry of guests that has left me drained. I’m not quite sure how to be with people. I’m not sure others feel much better either. We are all terribly polite, or very prickly or even both. No one wants to offend, but no one wants to stifle their opinions either. Sometimes, I just want to retreat to the shed and hide. Lock-down all seemed so much easier.

As a friend said, then, we all knew what to do. Now we are like the unfortunate astronaut on a space walk whose tether has been cut. However, shed fantasies aside, we are equally desperate to see each other and catch up. My empty diary is now full and that too is adding to my sense of disquiet. Gone are the days of moseying down to breakfast, pootling about the garden and having dinner when hunger pangs made themselves known. Now I have to schedule my days, dress nicely, and plan.

I also have to drive. The peaceful, empty roads of lock-down are no more. Instead, they filled with a torrent of traffic, ambling pedestrians, parked cars and the inevitable road works. The briefest journey is an obstacle course that stretches my levels of concentration to the limit.

Finding our balance

**Balancing is always precarious** Image: JC Dela Cuesta on Unsplash

Since we have who no idea how long it will be before we return to anything like normal, we shall have to find a way to balance our old lives with our new. I confess that my enthusiasm to catch up with everybody and do everything that I have been missing over the last months was perhaps ill-advised, but we all have to learn somehow.

What has helped me with the transition has been maintaining the schedule of yoga, meditation and breathing that I began seriously a year ago. It means getting up earlier than I would like and getting downstairs later, but without it, I’m not sure that I would have been able to cope at all.

While everything is still in flux, maintaining our rituals, whatever they are, becomes even more important. We cannot balance on thin air.

What the future holds

The future, by definition, is unknowable, but we can aim to make it a good one. For me that means doing all I can to keep safe (thus avoiding cluttering up the hospital) and being mindful of the well-being of others also.

**Consulting a crystal ball** Image: Joshua Woroniecki on Unsplash

With all restrictions due to be abolished in the next few weeks, we will have to ‘self police’ when it comes to living as fully as we can and as securely as we can. It was indeed easier when we were told exactly what we could and could not do. Now we have to negotiate that tricky social territory of those who are in the nonchalant, ‘It’s all over’ camp and the ‘Will my vaccine actually protect me?’ one.

My health complications have not miraculously disappeared, so I shall have to tread very carefully as the weeks unfold. Like everyone, I want to move forward with confidence and pleasure in all those social interactions that we took for granted in the past. But, I shall have to have the courage to say when I do not feel comfortable. And I plan, as far as possible, to meet up outdoors. I shall have to learn not to apologise when I have to put my needs first nor to be coerced by more confident (and healthy) friends. I shall have to listen, too, to those who are more anxious about the future and respect whatever decisions they make – no matter how timid or unfounded their fears may seem.

If we do this right, where we go from here should be a wonderful place. Imagine a world where people listen to one another; respect each other and act with the interest of everyone’s well-being at heart. It may be a dream, but I for one think it is one worth pursuing.

Life is what happens – Part 2

As we enter our second full lock-down, it is more important than ever to see what benefits we can take from the first. The arrival of the vaccine is a beacon of hope, but of course, vaccines must be made, those delivering it trained and those receiving it administered. It will certainly be weeks, if not months, until any kind of normality returns. We could, as so many folks are doing, complain about the delay, or we could make the most of this hiatus from normal life. Since this blog is entitled, ‘When life gives you lemons,’ you know which approach I’ll be taking.

Living Simply

Since the first lock-down, my husband and I have been managing on rather less than half pay. We imagined that our carefully reserved savings would be wiped out; that our standard of living would plummet. Yet, ironically, we haven’t touched our emergency fund and our standard of living has never been better. Of course, we haven’t been on holiday or out to restaurants. We haven’t bought much in the way of clothes or had haircuts (though I could certainly do with one!) Living simply at home has meant that what we actually need is very little. Realising this has been liberating.

Simple and delicious! Homemade summer squash and vegetable soup and bread. Thanks to YouTube, I learned how to freeze my glut of squashes. Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the generosity of the government furlough scheme, which ensured my husband kept his job and worked as much or as little as the pandemic allowed. Many of his colleagues in the US lost their jobs and I can all too well imagine how distressing that situation would be. So though Boris bashing may be a national pastime at the moment, having peered over the brink of an economic abyss, I am eternally grateful that I live in a country where, no matter what happens, your basic needs will be met.

God bless the NHS

Equally, I cannot say how much I treasure a health service that is free at the point of delivery. Trying to stay well during a pandemic is stressful enough; trying to work out how to pay for medical care should you require a prolonged hospital stay falls into the realm of nightmare. We are so used to this luxury that we forget that for almost all the rest of the world, it is an impossible dream.

I loved that we all stood out and applauded those front-line workers who care for us, but we need to show that we fully respect them by doing everything in our power to stay well and, equally vitally, to keep everyone else well too.

Working from home

As someone who has worked from home for the past eighteen years, I am well aware of its benefits. But for those used to the crazy hours and even crazier commutes of modern life, it has been a revelation. People who once had to rise at 6.30 to have any hope of getting to work before 9.00, can now enjoy rising at a civilised hour and have an extra two to four hours for themselves. People who barely got to see their children before bedtime, were able to join them for lunch. Jobs which seemed vital to perform in an office environment; meetings scheduled hundreds or even thousand of miles away, suddenly proved to be quite capable of being conducted successfully from home. For many, the realisation that a work/life balance is possible, will, I hope be carried forward into new working practices. Of course, most people will enjoy going to the office and having that social interaction, but it doesn’t need to be everyday. I, for one, will miss my husband terribly when he goes back to work. I’m just hoping that his usual twelve hour days will be reduced and that some of them will be worked at home.

Getting outside

The change that has been most obvious during the various lock-downs has been the number of people getting out to exercise and socialise. Almost all my friends now walk regularly and I suspect this is true for everyone. Where in the past, we might go for a walk in a local beauty spot and meet the odd other person, now we have to find somewhere less crowded. Parking at our favourite haunt at Birling Gap is virtually impossible. And although I sometimes grumble about all the outsiders using ‘our’ favourite spaces, I am actually delighted that families are making the effort to introduce their children to the wonders of the natural world. And as the restrictions are relaxed, I hope that at least some will continue look to the outdoors for entertainment before their Xboxes or iPads.

The garden in winter Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Despite the fairly atrocious weather recently, I still spend time in the garden every day and I join my husband for at least one of Hermione’s walks. Yesterday evening it was dark with freezing, drizzly rain, yet being outside felt wonderful and returning to a warm home, better still.

Giving the planet a rest

The pandemic has certainly not been good for humanity, but it has been very good for the natural world. Skies that were a fretwork of contrails are now only blotted by cloud. Roads, once congested and hazardous to cross, are now blessedly quiet. And as our spending and consumption decreases, so does the impact we have on the planet. Of course, I’m not suggesting we go back to living in a yurt, but this period has shown that we do not have to destroy our natural home to live well.

Because despite the challenges, difficulties and even grief this pandemic has brought us, it has focused our attention on what really matters. It seems, the best things in life are free. These things: friendship, family, health and Nature all nourish us in ways that material things only gratify briefly. If we can remember this and carry forward what we have learned, 2021 should be a very good year indeed, no matter how long it takes to resolve the current health crisis.

I’d like to end with a beautiful poem my friend sent me. It may be a little optimistic, but one can dream…

And the people stayed home

And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.

Kitty O’Meara

The Unsolicited Sabbatical

This has been a challenging week. Lock-down is easing and folk are returning to an almost normal existence: visiting friends, going for walks and picking up plants at the nursery. For a few days, I too ventured out into the world. And despite the low level hum of anxiety, it was exhilarating.

Then I spoke to my lovely new MS nurse on the phone. She urged me not to risk infection, since it would invariably cause an MS flare up and quite possibly a relapse from which I may or may not recover. Since I am functioning at the very edge of normal, I certainly do not want to tip over to full disability. I knew all this, but the lure of ordinary existence and connection with friends made me wish to disregard it (and at some level still does). How strong the siren song to meet up with those we love; how strong the voice that whispers that there really is nothing to fear.

Except for me, there is. My husband has to work, but I do not have to socialise. Worse still, if, through my ignoring my nurse’s advice I fall ill, it is my husband who will have to deal with the fall-out. We are not old enough to retire and I’ve volunteered long enough at Citizens Advice to know what life is like for those who are forced to leave full employment to become carers.

Which leaves me here. Literally.

Home sweet home or house arrest? Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

How long?

Of course, no-one knows how long this pandemic will last nor how soon we can hope for a viable vaccine. As a result, my self-isolation could last 6 months, a year or even two. When I first noted the 12 week lock-down in my diary, it seemed an eternity. Now it seems like a brief break. Hence the difficult week. There are no good options here – only risk assessment.

The spectre of depression hovers always. The best way to send someone mad is to place them in solitary confinement. In my bleakest moments, that is exactly how this feels. Except, of course, my situation is hardly like that. I have a comfortable home, a fabulous garden, the company of my husband and via technology, all my friends. What I need is the energy and self-discipline to turn this around. What is ostensibly most people’s worst nightmare, could equally be a dream come true. Lock-down is an opportunity like no other to do all the things you plan to do before life gets in the way. It is a sort of enforced sabbatical.

Glass half full

Once I got over feeling sorry for myself, I started to think of this as a gift of time. How would I spend it? Following the advice I would give my students when planning an essay, I embarked on an elaborate spider diagram with each leg representing all the things I like to do (and including domestic tasks, which no-one can escape from!) My diagram included eighteen distinct categories with everything from gardening to calligraphy. I then translated this into a sort of schedule with hourly slots only to discover that there were not enough hours in a day. My slots would need to be vague enough to include a number of activities. So the creative one might mean art, or sewing or writing a poem.

Then I started thinking in blocks of time. What if I made Tuesday my teaching/volunteering day and Wednesday my writing one? What if I gave myself goals such as make an entirely new dish each week? Or finally work out how to join together all those granny squares I crocheted and which are now lying mournfully in a basket?

My days are already book-ended with morning exercise /meditation and evening Swedish and journal writing. These long days are beginning to look shorter and more precious.

Some of you reading this are over-whelmed with work and no doubt would love the luxury of time that is available to me. Many of us have a great deal of time. If that is the case, and this is a sabbatical from normal life, what would you like to do with it? Answers on a postcard please…