I was speaking to my New York based brother on the phone before Rosh Hashana. 

“So, how are you dealing with lockdown number 31?” He asked.

“Do you mean lockdown number 301?” I joked. “I’m not even treating it like a lockdown anymore, to be honest. This is just life right now.” I boasted.

The truth is, it was “just life right now” because he happened to catch me at a good moment, when things felt…ok. Things were cruising, at least temporarily, and I was taking them in my stride — at that moment.

You see, lockdown life is like that. One second we’re acting like zenned out tai-chi masters, the next it’s all why-is-the-world-coming-to-an-end. 

Sure, there are times in between that aren’t as extreme. But those times are usually occupied with the day to day mundanity of life. 

And it is mundane right now. There is a whole lot of blah, and we’re wading through it constantly. It’s like we’re on a blah spin cycle, in fact. 

Personally, I’ve found myself to be constantly living on the edge. The edge of turning into a cranky monster. The edge of unexpected swings of anxiety. The edge of losing it altogether, whatever ‘losing it’ actually consists of. 

Either way, it’s that feeling that, at any second, my tank will fill right to the very top, and once it does, something has to give. Something has to fall apart to allow me to breathe again.

And I know I’m not the only one. 

This past August, Lifeline recorded 3,505 calls in one day — the highest daily number in the organisation’s 57-year history. And this wasn’t the first time the record has recently been broken.

While it’s a positive sign that people are reaching out, I find it especially concerning that so many are still suffering in silence. 

Because lockdown affects us all, and in different ways.

Living in lockdown is constant frustration, the type that consumes you daily.

It’s that feeling of annoyance that lives right beneath your skin, festering.

Lockdown is claustrophobia, and being trapped in your own city, circling around streets that feel tired in your 5km radius.

Lockdown is feeling suffocated, as if someone is sitting on your chest, making it hard for you to breathe.

It’s being pushed to your individual edge, whatever that may be, and whatever may trigger you to reach it, and trying so damn hard not to fall off. 

Lockdown is hard, and it actually gets harder over time, not easier. This is no small deal. 

So if you’re feeling any of this, just know that it’s normal. It may be “life right now,” but it’s not the life we want to be living, nor should it be. And it’s ok to say that aloud. It’s ok to be vocal about how tough it is. It’s great if you can look on the bright side — and trust me, I try — but it’s just as alright if you can’t. You’re doing your best, and if that’s not good enough, I don’t know what is.

I wish I had words of wisdom, something positive to end this off with. But truthfully, lockdown is more about daily grit than it is about wild bursts of inspiration. We get by day by day, sometimes even minute by minute. And if ‘getting by’ is all you did today, that in itself is worth its weight in gold. I hope you know that. And I hope that even if no one else is recognising your strength, you know intrinsically that you are a warrior. You are here, you’re still fighting, and I’m proud of you for that. 

 

*Like a lot of my writing, this one was written as a pep talk for myself. I needed to hear these words so I wrote them. But if you find yourself reading this and feeling overwhelmed, helpless or scared, don’t hesitate to call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or Beyond Blue on 1800 512 348. Nobody should have to fight their fight alone. 

Sources:

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-08-21/the-people-answering-covid-19-lockdown-lifeline-calls/100367532