I take comfort in the fact that i’m not the only person in the world, or even down my street, who could describe last week as nondescript. Nothing particularly exciting happened to tell a story about and, as with everyone else, i’m taking each day is it comes and trying to control my emotions as best I can.
For a while I thought I was handling self-isolation very well. Homebodies across the world finally have the opportunity to indulge in their favourite things which all include staying home and I’m still not ready to lose the flexibility and comfort that comes with working from home full time. I feel guilty for feeling secretly a little pleased that lockdown has been extended for another three weeks and endlessly hopeful that when this is all over I’m able to continue this routine as much as possible.
My levels of anxiety have evened out, I’m not panicking as much and I assume this is down to the simple fact that I have gotten used to this way of life. My main concern is always my Mother, as she is the only one in the family still having to go out to work and, as she works in hospital, the threat of contracting Covid19 is a constant and consistent worry. That aside though, I feel calmer and, again, guilty for this.
The Coronavirus has begun seeping into my dreams, I find i’m waking up in wild relief that I haven’t accidentally snogged a stranger and contracted the virus – two rather tell-tale situations that don’t require much psychological dissection about my psyche.
I spend a lot of time day dreaming about another life where I’m able to offer financial comfort to my family and friends, where my parents are mortgage-free and I spend my days wandering around foreign cities, laying on beautiful beaches and feeling light as a feather. Some people don’t like to dream about such frivolities because it hurts when it doesn’t come true, but I think I dream so much in the hope that it will come true. I’ve heard they do, Gabrielle said so anyway.
It’s odd that I still get that familiar feeling of anxiety on a Sunday night before work the next day. I’ve had these feelings at various levels of intensity throughout my life, far worse during my school years but never completely free of them as an adult. I assumed it was because I loved the comfort of my home so much, so the fact that I still experience a mild sense of this panic could be, quite simply, down to habit. Perhaps it’s a hint I need to work harder to achieve the aforementioned dream.