Diary Entry: 14 April 2020.
It’s very hard to pinpoint how long we have been in lockdown; sometimes it feels like a few days, sometimes it feels like months.
I have only left the house three times in the last four weeks.
First, to walk the dog. I didn’t realise how badly I missed the sea until I saw it and felt a contradictory excited peacefulness. It was hard to avoid people. It was only the first week, and it didn’t seem many were taking it too seriously. One man laughed at me when I asked if he could keep a little more distance.
Second, for a run. I have been jogging on the spot, doing HIIT training via YouTube tutorials, and doing more exercise than I ever have before in my living room, but I needed to be outside. I felt guilty being out, and more anxious the further I got from my front door. It was a short run.
Third, to walk the dog at midnight. Much calmer, much quieter. Much more surreal and sobering.
Working from home is far more difficult than I thought it would be. The demand for our services as a mental health charity is far greater now, and I can feel a pressure to perform above and beyond our usual support service. The job demands a level of attention to other people and their problems that is far easier when I am alone in a room with them. Almost impossible to master at home on the sofa surrounded by books, games consoles, and a puppy.
It’s a weird limbo. Like there’s half of me rushing through it, barely aware of what’s happening, the other half slowed to a stop in a state of constant anxiety. I suppose that’s why it’s hard to feel any consistency of time. Everything has changed.