Well, safe to say the sun is helping. Today I think I may have moved into another phase. I don’t believe it to be a completely new, or necessarily ‘next’ phase. It’s just different. Phase 37 of 829, I’m guessing. If breaking an addiction takes 12 steps I can only imagine the number of steps and phases involved in navigating a pandemic.
I feel like every phase is a subtle personal evolution – and this one is probably my most settled phase so far. Along with the weather perking us all up, we’re finding a bit of a rhythm in the household. We’ve (I’ve) gotten used to my husband being at home all day and have settled into quite an agreeable life of cooking, child-rearing, day jobbing (for him), some writing (for me), time out, gardening, walks etc with some flexitime available for my short but reliable weekly(ish) mini-mental-breakdowns.
I know the men are feeling it too. Of course they are. But for me and many women in my circles it would appear that the gals are all a bit, what would Oprah call it?, WOO WOO about this pandemic thing. While the lads appear to be more in the ‘it is what it is’ camp. I mean, how? Is it the earth’s way of seeking balance in how humankind reacts to any given crisis? Yin & Yang? It can be exhausting feeling everything so deeply. Covid 19 is arguably one of the largest shared emotional rollercoasters we will ever ride. The energy that goes into absorbing the daily news, flicking through various scenarios of doom in your head, trying to balance staying positive with being realistic – all while being separated from members of our family and our friends – is immense. It’s really, really draining. So, I don’t know about you, but a good old cry every so often seems to re-boot me as required. I like the car for crying the most as there’s privacy, you can play soppy songs to initiate or indulge a good wailing session and, well, there are no explanations required. No dear, it’s not weird. It’s therapy.
So, we have the routine bit cracked.
Enjoying my latest, more calm phase – photos taken on my evening walk in the rock
Another change is a distinct downgrade in the constant low-level anxiety I was feeling. It’s not so much that I’ve been able to crack that. It’s more that time has started to crack it on my behalf. For probably the entire month of March I was convinced I had Corona Virus – I had very real symptoms for parts of every day. However, I found when I got distracted the virus would disappear, so I self-diagnosed my having Fear-Of-Corona-Virus Virus which, you’ll be glad to hear, isn’t dangerous at all. I was also in near constant dread of one of my friends of family members catching the thing. But time breeds complacency and most days I forget there’s any medical threat going on at all. Such is my fixation with ‘lockdown’, the actual and very grave reason for this enforced hibernation often eludes my thoughts for distinctly long periods of time. Now when I watch anyone on TV in close physical contact, I am first and foremost appalled that they are ‘breaking the rules’, not that they may become ill. I know I’m not the only one – and it can only mean that we were never so vulnerable to a dictatorship as we are now. Just know I’m watching you Fine Gael. (See above re emotional exhaustion caused by flicking through various awful scenarios).
I can only hope that moving on to yet another phase in this journey is to be welcomed because maybe it means we’re getting somewhere? Could my graduation on to yet another phase possibly mark a weird kind of progress? Perhaps. But then, I cannot guarantee that I won’t power through a further four phases tomorrow and be back at phase 22 (denial and disbelief mixed with thrills of excitement at all the drama) by teatime.
Another three and a half weeks of lockdown has just been announced folks. Hang onto your hat!
The Burren looked beautiful this evening. It always manages to soothe