To be honest today, Friday 8th May is the first day I’ve had a wobble during this pandemic. I think we’ve been in lockdown for 45 days, or there about and largely it has washed over me. I have of course been horrified by the news and my heart has broken for so many families loosing loved ones and my admiration for frontline workers grows every day. But tucked away in rural England have not been directly affected and have enjoyed spending time at home with family.
My days have been filled with my business, I work from home each morning, so nothing much has changed there, and guilt free activities in the afternoons. Before the lockdown I would fill every moment doing something. I’ve never been good at sitting still and doing nothing, I’ve had to work really hard at finding five minutes to just check in with myself and just be. But since lockdown I feel that a pressure to be productive in some way every waking hour, has been lifted from me, and I have been given permission to read, paint, sew whatever I might feel like doing. I like it. I will not go back to my former ways of working at a hundred miles an hour, I will find a way to give myself permission to please myself for at least an hour of every day.
So today I had a little cry. Not sure where it came from, I’ll blame the full moon as I know it does affect me. I think it was an accumulation of all the thoughts in my head, from missing my son who is in isolation else where to remembering those who died in the wars, all those poor soles who never came home. Then actually trying to comprehend thirty thousand deaths from Covid 19 and being beyond grateful that our family and friends are all still with us. Top that off with a video of a beautiful singing by a gospel choir being shared on Facebook by our local vicar, I was done.
I know I’m late to the wobble party. Many of my friends have messaged over the last couple of months to say they’ve had a difficult day. It’s important that we talk about our experiences during this unprecedented time and into the future. There will be wounds to heal, not just the huge gaping holes left by loosing a loved one, but little wounds left by missing precious moments such as births or weddings. Time to catch up with how much children have grown whilst we haven’t seen them and difficult conversations to have with those for who confinement may have made them make life changing decisions such as divorce or moving away. There will be a period of national mourning as we slowly come to terms with what has happened and start life without certain people, loved ones, friends and colleagues who were taken by the virus. We will reflect on the way the pandemic was handled by our government. There will be endless conversations about what we would have done differently and how the outcome might have been different.
This will not go away quickly. Like so many things it won’t be until we look back on it that we’ll be able to see the full picture and appreciate how it has affected us as a country, in our communities and as individuals. I hope that we remember the kindness and compassion everyone has shown each other, and that it remains in place. I hope that we’ll remember the beautiful weather we had due to less pollution and all do everything we can to keep pollution to a minimum. I hope we’ll realise how adaptable we all are. Whether that means that we will continue to walk to the shop instead of driving, or use up every scrap of food in the fridge before shopping again or that we continue to bake a loaf for home and one for a neighbour.
Let us endeavour to be better people than we were before. Let’s learn the lessons Mother Nature has been teaching us. Let’s be more mindful of our actions and their consequences. Let’s get ready to creep slowly back to some kind of normality, with kindness and compassion in our hearts and a feeling of gratitude for all who helped us through.