Depending on how you think about it, the lockdown is either about to end soon, or it ended last summer, or it ended earlier last summer, or it ended late last spring.
When it began, we were pretty much locked down. Like universally grounded. So much was uncertain (“in these uncertain times…”), and we didn’t know what was safe, and we thought this might end in a few weeks and everything would be back to normal.
We were ever aware of our food stores, our toilet paper supplies, and the latest hot spots where the numbers shot up.
I think I handled those early days best. All this alone time was kind of welcome. The adventure of finding interesting ways to feed myself with the stuff I had kept me thinking about my next meal as I was completing the current meal. Sleep was a huuuuge issue, but when is it not, in my life?
These past few weeks, as I’ve fallen behind on my daily updates, it hasn’t been just about being busy, which I sort of have, or being slightly depressed, which I also have, or being a little anxious, which I also have. I think I’m moving into a different mental space: out of lockdown and cautiously but eagerly into whatever’s next.
Eventually, I’m going to stop with these intended daily updates and settle into whatever needs this space satisfies, with whatever frequency. The season of the lockdown journal is ending.
I’m a week away from being about as immune as I’m expected to get, I guess. There will be an accounting, too. My body is in the worst shape it’s ever seen. My brain is teetering on a few different brinks, some of which are new ground for me. I’m restless in a lot of ways. I’m anxious in a lot of ways. I’m mildly depressed in a lot of ways. All related to this stupid lockdown.
Yeah, I’m a little overwhelmed, too. And as I’ve felt it, I’ve retreated into escapist behavior, which of course makes everything worse. So I’ve sunken into this little hole and I need to get out of it. I keep telling myself tomorrow is the day and the day goes by and it feels worse because I didn’t make it actually be the day.
Twice over the long weekend I drove to Keehi Lagoon and walked as I read my Kindle. It helped. Enormously. Of course, it sounds like doing something (fresh air, sunshine, exercise) when it’s really the ultimate escapist behavior. My first escapist behavior. Why is reading my favorite thing? Because it takes me away.
As disappointing as this past year has been, now it’s home, and now it’s about to change again. I’m not ready to rush headlong back into the old space, even if the old were to be exactly the same as it was when I left it. I want to see my writing partner again over pizza. I want to sit in a cafe and drink coffee as I read. I want to go to a concert. Just maybe not all at once, I guess.
I also want my year back, damn it.
I’ll get this lockdown journal caught up some time this week; I swear. I will also do some of the other stuff I’ve been putting off simply because I have to. And yeah, the beach. I need some beach time.
I’m okay. I just need to sort through some stuff, and most of it will be best sorted through by getting it done, not by writing about it. Ack.
Back to the inanity of my daily recaps sometime Tuesday. I promise! Sorta!