It seems like a lifetime ago, when in fact it’s only been a few months. It all came on so suddenly, too suddenly. One second we were getting lattes and lunches, the next we were glued to our TV screens, and wandering aimlessly through apocalyptic supermarkets, the empty shelves a glaring reminder of our harsh reality — “a new normal.”
And while toilet paper became extinct, and people stocked their houses as if disaster were about to strike, disaster did, in fact, strike, in many different ways, for many different people. And we all just about lost it, I know I did.
It wasn’t a war, but it felt like one. We weren’t under direct threat, but I felt helpless, scared, and panicked. I didn’t have the words to explain it, but I sensed we were a part of something big and unknown, scary and uncertain, and we were.
It felt like things would never be the same again, and in many ways, they probably never will be.
But if the world was ending
You’d come over, right?
You’d come over and you’d stay the night
Would you love me for the hell of it?
All our fears would be irrelevant
If the world was ending
You’d come over, right?
The sky’d be falling and I’d hold you tight
Why did I never consider physical touch to be so important? All the little moments, the ones I took for granted – quick, spontaneous hugs, playing with my nieces and nephews, sitting close to someone and sharing photos on my phone…
When human contact diminished so did physical touch. Connection took on a plethora of new meanings. Celebrities went live, concerts went online and we all found ways to develop our emotional and spiritual connections with the people in our lives.
But I still can’t help feeling like something is missing. It’s like the entire world has become depersonalised, as if we’re interacting with people from behind a screen or a barrier. Physical touch is the one thing we can’t share through the internet, and I feel it’s absence, in all the small ways we used to communicate and show each other we care.
And I care. I care too much, most of the time. I don’t know about you, but when all of this started, I wanted to do everything for everyone. I wanted to be the one who brought a bit of light, a bit of happiness to the people I cared about.
But if the world was ending
You’d come over, right?
I tried, I really did. I tried to be the very best version of myself. But I didn’t pay enough attention to my own needs and my energy ran out. I had to retreat into my own world for a few weeks to regain my strength.
And the truth is, I haven’t changed. I still want to help the important people in my life. I still want them to know they have me, and that will never change.
If anything, I think my ability to feel has grown through this pandemic. I’ve always felt other people’s pain, sometimes even more strongly than my own. So if the world was ending, you can bet I’d come over. I’d come over and do whatever it took to bring someone a bit of joy, a bit of love.
But while I still wish I could be the ‘everything’ to everyone, I know I have to be there for myself, primarily, before I can be there properly for others. Physical touch has become another thing we’ve had to reframe to get us through this. And we are getting through it, we are. We are apart, yet together. Getting through this, together, yet apart.
So if the world was ending, you’d come over, right?
Yes, I’d come over so fast, I’m already there.