I’ll start this post by giving you a snippet of what my life looked like before this period of gloom rudely intruded. If I had to pick three adjectives to sum up my pre-isolation life, they would be unpredictable, fast-paced and exciting. My social life was at the heart of everything. I would count down the days of the working week knowing that my weekend would be packed with activities and gatherings with my beloved friends and family. I used to love keeping a diary which included my various mid-week gym classes and multiple coffee dates with my colleagues and friends.
Friday after work would usually be penciled in as ‘a few drinks’ in the bar opposite work but would naturally result in getting a 11pm drunken McDonalds and just about making the last train home. Saturdays would most likely involve a tactical shopping trip with friends, timed precisely to ensure I miss any football games which, without a shadow of a doubt would be streaming on my living room TV. Saturday nights were for date nights, depending on how much money we spent out the night before, we would either go out for dinner and (yes more) drinks or sit at home watching trash tv with (you guessed it) a few drinks. Skip to Sunday and I would make time for some self- care and family, ensuring that I had just about enough energy to make it through the next working week.
Ok let’s skip to the here and now. We’re mid-June and its 86th day of lockdown. Before you ask, I did indeed have to use my calculator to work that out. Which has prompted me to discuss one of my most prominent side effects of lockdown, reduced brain activity. The other day, I decided that this must be how it feels to be forced into very early retirement. I feel as though I’ve been dragged out of my little bubble and placed into a residential home but without any of the benefits, like having other residents to natter with and playing a cheeky round of bingo on a Friday afternoon. I’m lacking stimulation and purpose. Granted, I’m lucky to still have a job, but when your morning commute is walking to the dining table and the only office banter is with your partner, it hardly feels like work at all.
Weekends are just as troubling. I’m convinced that the dip in the sofa is there for good now after my arse sits there for hours at a time. I’ve seen so many posts online with cheesy and ‘motivational’ messages like ‘now is the time to find yourself’ or ‘use this time to do something amazing’. I’m sorry but are these people living in the same world as me?! We’re going through a global pandemic, I’m struggling to make it through each day and you’re now telling me to FIND MYSELF!? The only thing I’ve found out about myself is that my attention span is a lot shorter than I ever imagined and I’ve got a serious snacking issue.