Lockdown Lessons

As the messages cascaded in, I could feel my temperature rising. That instinctive part of me, that part of me that burned bridges was coming to life. The flames were rising and I could feel myself wanting to explode, to rip into all the insecurities I knew she had. I tried to control myself as my anger took control of the keyboard. Shortly after, I was blocked.

I sat in disbelief, the anger still alive and circulating through my veins. My hands were shaking and my face was flushed. I let the word sink in.

Toxic.

As I calmed down, with the help of some expensive whisky and a fluffy dog, I wondered if she would have spoken to me that way had we been in “normal times”. I wondered if she had become crueler with her words, her actions, because she didn’t have to face the person she was hurting anytime soon. Perhaps the pandemic had taken away from her accountability and allowed her to react without immediate consequences.

But perhaps that was just one of the aftermaths of the lockdown. It had changed so much after all.

•••

The UK was about 8 months into lockdown, with the level of restrictions oscillating here and there and the amounts of fucks given by the population equally fluctuating.

While we had all been experiencing lockdown and the effects of the pandemic differently, for the first time since a world war, we were collectively experiencing something universal.

Over the past eight months, I’d seen everything from break ups to marriage proposals. I’d watched friends drift apart and other come closer together. I’d watched people bake bread at home, catch up with their DIY, bring their yoga teachers into their houses (virtually of course) and practice with their dogs interrupting every five seconds. I’d seen people have full blown arguments on how the government should have handled the pandemic and also watched the other half dance the night away in the middle of a common with a DJ set filling the air with music.

I would have never expected to sit here, 8 months into what I can only classify as the most intense months of my life looking back and being so amazed at the changes. While some were big, like closing a business and starting a new one, getting rid of my old flatmate and getting a new one and completely revaluating how I approach friendships and people, some changes were small.

There is something unique and — for the lack of a better word — quite poetic about being stuck within the confines of our small London homes (for those of us lucky enough to be in a stable and safe homes).

For the majority of us, myself included, this pandemic turned into a much overdue time of reflection. As a lover of the fast paced life, I was forced to slow down. While I used to be out the door at 9:30am and back sometime after midnight and sometimes later, always packing an extra set of clothing and a back-up make up kit with me, this pandemic suddenly knocked the wind out of me.

I was told to stay home and isolate from the rest of the world. On my own, with my dog. And while I’ve lived alone before and will happily do it again, I can tell you living alone in a lockdown is different and an experience like that can bring out some demons.

And mine came out. Of course, on brand, I faced them, head on as best as I could. I managed my fear of being alone. I dealt with my own loneliness. I even briefly dated a man who taught me to never date someone out of necessity.

But at the same time I learned to adjust my priorities. An action synonymous to checking the oil in your car; you won’t do it unless it’s absolutely necessary, or if you simply have too much time on your hands.

And with that, I adjusted my boundaries. I learned where to draw my lines. I made a clear decision on who is worth my effort and who isn’t.

That meant that some of my friendships came to an end — some in a more dramatic fashion than others. And while some ended, others began. I swapped the girl who would lie to my face for one that would tell me face first how she felt. I swapped a flatmate who thought everything was an attack against her for one that would jointly cook the most insane Sunday roast I’d had [apply within for an invite], and I swapped the man that was an asshole to me for the promise of a better one [applications open].

I did a spring clean. Of myself. Of my life and of my priorities.

I saw that beauty is in the most simple things. And while, if and when things go back to “normal” I will resume my hectic crazy schedule, I can equally live happily without it. I learned that I can find happiness in my morning cup of coffee, in how my dog looks at me and the smell of good food flooding the house.

I learned, through this lockdown, that I don’t need to bend over backwards for people, I don’t need friends that make me question things and I can live with a flatmate who is mature and accepting of my weird and annoying habits, and sometimes even appreciates them.

I learned that while I loved my old life, the things that can and have always made me happy, are the small things in life.

And I sit here, relinquishing my anger at the woman who hurt me, and awaiting the day I can be reunited with the people who are truly worthy of my love and affection — and my family.

Long story short, I’m OK with this whole lockdown thing, but can it be over so I can hug my parents again?