Week one of adjustment

Well done you!

Yes you, my imaginary little audience. I don’t know if you’re a friend or a family member, a colleague or a virtual acquaintance, but I do know that we share something in common at this moment, and that is that we are both experiencing life in the time of corona.

Now I don’t know if you’re coronafearful or coronazen or somewhere in between, but I do know that you have an opinion about it all and that you are worried about something: maybe your health or the health of another, your business, your job, rent, how you are possibly going to entertain the kids, and take care of your older people, or just how you are going to not die of boredom now that the pubs and cinemas are closed.

If you’re based in Ireland, you have just completed week one of social distancing, so again, well done you. The first seven days of any new way of life are going to be hard, right? The first seven days in a new job are horrible, the first seven days of dry January are appalling, the first seven days of any new regime are terrible.
Right?

Well maybe don’t ask me, I’m new here myself.

One week ago the schools and the colleges in the Republic of Ireland were closed down, and those of us who could were told to work from home for the next two weeks. I knew it wasn’t going to be just two weeks, which is why I packed up my desk plants from the office. I didn’t like to leave them there on their own and it suddenly became very, very important that I take them with me. One is a lively old spider plant that has given me such joy, and the other is a purple and green thing, that was almost destroyed and died, but now lives out its old age in a pot that’s too big for it. I carried them down Capel Street, while people bought toilet rolls and pasta and I took them home.

I haven’t done this before, it’s all unprecedented, so I don’t have any tips or advice. But I have been on a few international volunteering placements before, and it feels intuitive to treat this new way of life a little bit like that?

Bear with me as I explain.

Firstly, I think it’s ok to be feeling a little bit sea-sick at the moment, as this is week one of adjustment. Everything is a little different, and a little strange and we have to get used to the new surroundings. We all have new pressures now and life has changed quite dramatically. Even small tasks are going to take a lot longer now, and we probably don’t know the new language.

Every day so far, I’ve felt a whole variety of emotions from happy and calm, to scared and frightened and all under an umbrella of denial and disbelief. I am so grateful that I have shelter, a permanent job and that all my family and friends are OK at present. It’s nice to take books I haven’t read down from the shelf, and drink coffee in bed and go for walks when I want to. It’s a bit mischievous to watch films in the afternoon and then to suddenly decide that what I really want to do is a half an hour of yoganidra. It’s lovely to write.

I am also frozen with fear about the health of my VIPs (my Vulnerable and Isolated People). This visceral fear takes me to the verge of screaming and I feel like I need to slap myself across the face harshly and give myself a glass of brandy, like they used to do in those films from the 50s.

“Calm down God damn it” I might say to myself “you’re not helping anyone with this hysterical behaviour!”

Maybe, like me you could do with a good cry? A proper snot inducing, hyperventilating, sobbing waterfall of a cry that goes through several tissues (which will obviously then be disposed of quite safely). Maybe it’s a good idea to pop on a film which you know will get the tears flowing, and then blame the tears on that.

“It’s not me overreacting and being melodramatic” you might say to yourself “it’s this very upsetting film, God damn it!”

But you know what’s funny? I have a wardrobe full of clothes and I’ve been wearing leggings and t.shirts for a week now. I have four different handbags hanging in the hallway and I also personally feel a little bit superfluous to the needs of society. While I’m here reading and practising zen, the health workers, shop keepers, drivers and front line staff are actually doing something of value.

Funny isn’t it?

But anyway, well done you and I mean that sincerely.

These are indeed the most unusual of unusual days so whatever you’re doing, it’s right. If you need to run, or hide under the duvet or learn to speak Spanish or cook yourself into oblivion then do it, and do it without guilt. If you have your health, shelter and a permanent job, try and relax into this new way of living and try and stay calm.

This is just week one of adjustment.

This is just life. This is the whole of it, with its fears and its beauty, its shame and its joy. This is what it is.