Flat as a...

Saturday 31st, just before our Halloween Zombie Run (I'll tell you about that one another day), the Government announced the second lockdown across England in response to COVID-19 rates. That evening, I took three large glasses of white wine and said goodbye to my 'not drinking' phase. I called friends, who had also (coincidentally?) taken to the bottle. It was time to give up, giving up. We laughed and scoffed and forgot the world for a while. I slept.

The next morning, I had three text messages from different friends explaining that they felt low. Each in their own way, describing an over-riding feeling of sadness that they couldn't shift.

I left the house. I felt flat.

Queues returned outside supermarkets. Masked customers waiting silently until their time to step through the shop entrance. No conversation. No engagement between people.

Throughout the day, I found myself sleeping for hours at a time. Not completely unheard of (my frieghbour [friend AND neighbour] is able to track my nap patterns from my curtain activity) but this sleep was different. Deep, deep sleep. It could have been the wine but I didn't think so. You see, I'm an expert-by-experience of alcohol naps. Instead, it felt more like the overriding sense of "so what?" What was the point of being awake? What motivation did I have? My control over life had gone once again and with it had gone the excitement of looking forward. My anticipation of life had been squashed flat.

I probably should have got to it and cleaned the house. Why? It would just get dirty again. I could get showered and dressed. Get some make-up on. Why? I wasn't seeing anyone. I could go for a walk in nature. Couldn't be bothered. It was cold. I could go for a ride on my bike. Cycle clothes were in the wash. I could write. Nah - my thoughts were scattered. I could cook? I could paint? I could do a jigsaw?!?!

Couldn't be arsed.

But... How could I allow myself to be so low? How selfish. How ungrateful. There are soooo many people worse off than me. People who are poorly. People who have lost their jobs. People who are worried about loved ones. People who live in difficult circumstances. And there was little me, worried about feeling a bit irritable. It was pathetic. I needed to grow a pair. I needed to...

"Believe in myself"

"Be the best version of myself"

"Dream hard, work hard!"

"Be grateful for something every day!"

"Be positive!"

"Be the the person I would want to meet!"

Or did I?

Instead, maybe I had to tell my brain to go fuck itself rather than working hard to suggest things. Rather than it screening the horizon for solutions. Rather than it piling on the usual expectations. Rather than it judging me and telling me what I should alternatively be thinking or doing or feeling at this very point of time.

Instead, maybe I just needed to feel what I was feeling. Maybe I just needed to allow the discomfort to run through my veins, like a toxin. And... like a toxin, have faith that it would work its way out... eventually. I just had to wait. I had to sit with it and wait. There was no need for me to pile on a further layer of guilt or remorse or some fucked up feeling of failure.

I was going to be ok. You and I? We're both going to be ok. We just have to feel the current moment. We can't be scared to face the present, whatever monotony or frustration it brings. We have to plough right through the discomfort. Right through the centre of whatever this experience is going to be.

We've got this. We're going to be ok.

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