I could not have been happier the day Melbourne came out of lockdown. I went out in the sunshine, the cafes had burst into life overnight, there were people out on the streets, traffic. I even bought a dress that first Friday from an outdoor trading boutique. It was exciting! Things felt the best they’d felt in forever. We’d actually made it. But now it’s been a week or two, and things are starting to feel…weird. The shops are back open, the cafes are still buzzing, I know I should be bursting with possibility. But in truth? That sense of pure, bright elation only lasted a day or two for me.

Lately, I’ve come to realise that life, itself, is a lesson in being strong. You don’t need to go out and find it, this living-strength. Day to day living, without any of the extra trimmings, is an act of strength. And we can’t escape it — life, or this weird level of strength that piles up slowly, whether we like it or not. And that’s actually a good thing, even if it seems like it’s not. This year, I conquered a bunch of medical-related fears. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. After all, curveballs are either dodged or caught with full force. In my case, I had no choice but to face them, even as they attempted to bowl me over in the process.

It’s raining outside as I type this. It’s stay-at-home-and-get-mega-super-cozy, kind of weather. And so here I am, it’s Sunday night, and I’ve gone into rain-induced reflection mode. But that’s enough ramblings. A few months ago, I came across an article on Repeller, about “therapy clothes.” The author, Haley Nahman, describes therapy clothes as outfits that feel like physical and emotional hugs, and make you feel comfortable and at ease on both a physical and emotional level.

I was reading British Vogue over the weekend. The cover of the issue was a photograph of a simple landscape, all fields and clouds. In the bottom right hand corner of the cover was just one word, printed in plain, white font: Reset. There were no fashion models, no impossibly smooth contours, no bright colours, no flash headlines. Instead, just a moody landscape that could have been shot by anyone. The issue, obviously compiled during this Corona period, was about change. Nestled between the glossy ads and pages of “must have” items, were some very real articles about the unique times we live in, as a world, fighting off this virus.

Sometimes I sit for ages, staring at a blank screen, watching the cursor blink on and off, as words escape me. This usually happens when I’m trying to tackle something big and important, and want to do it justice, to show it in the right light. Tonight is one of those times. I pulled open my iPad, put on my official writing playlist and…waited. There are a million things I want to say. The words are in me, somewhere, but they are swimming around, jumbled. Sometimes the only way out is in.