May 24th 2020
I’m so tired of everything. I’ve moved Twitter off my home screen because I can’t deal with everyone else’s anger when I have so much of my own.
I don’t want to think about the hypocrisy displayed by the UK government. One of my grandparents died last week. She shouldn’t have. She went to hospital for something simple and she died. I can’t go to her funeral. My parents have to drive an 8hr roundtrip in a day so they can. The rules are still different in Wales and I don’t think I could in good conscience go to England and back. Or legally.
And even if I did – to see people I care about for the first time in months and not be able to be near them? I don’t know how to even think about that. I’m tired. And I’m still alone.
I’ve had such an angry week. But I’m kinda resigning myself to this being my life now. Maybe I’ll just be here in this flat alone forever. Maybe that’s my destiny. I don’t know. How can I hope for anything better right now?
I’m tired.

23 May 2020

I almost put the date above as 23 March. Still can’t get over how warped time feels lately.

A lot of things are warped. What struck me this weekend, is that after 9 weeks of only going outside for essential shopping, a total of once a week, or once a fortnight where I could get away with it, I have become afraid of going outside. That’s pretty warped.

As restrictions have been lifted friends have asked if I want to go for a walk in a park, 2 metres apart and all that. And I want so badly to see people. It’s been so long and I know my mental health has taken a hit and I would maybe feel better if I went out. But when they asked, I felt it so quickly – a tightness in my chest because I can’t go outside that’s where the virus is, I’d be putting people at risk, myself at risk. I’m scared I’ll get sick and die, or get arrested and fined. I know I’m probably being stupid really, but I can’t stop the panic as soon as I think about being in public with other people.

So that’s what I learned this week- I’m scared to see my friends.

When the first case of covid-19 was released, I didn’t think that we would be stuck at home for more than two weeks. After a couple of days, the government’s midnight broadcasts gave me a horror movie ambiance because the number of the incidents increased as the days went by. It didn’t take too long to postpone the flow of our daily lives. We started online classes which were really hard to adopt. The most striking part of the self-isolation for me is to not to go out by necessity. In normal time, going for a walk is a thing that I like most. It was so hard to spend energy at home for me, even if there were alternative ways of spending energy but I couldn’t feel the same way with walking outdoors. Nowadays, thanks to online classes, I started to make ceramics at home and I occupy myself. To sum up, I learned that even going for a walk is such a blessing.

The thing that took place since the beginning of the outbreak in Turkey which I found interesting is the people’s going insane when the lockdown was declared, they acted like they have never seen bread, dry food and in my opinion they must have thought that they would never go out again. I saw people stocking gasoline for their cars for lockdown on twitter. I found this ridiculous, we already couldn’t go out. When this situation is all over, I don’t know how happy I will feel.

11/5/2020 The Power of ‘Nostalgia’ (why is there no antonym?)

I’m looking at the description and thinking, should this read unemployed? Technically I’ve finished all paid work now, and invoiced for it. Technically I am a ‘Jobseeker’. The last time I thought about ‘signing on’ was about 35 years ago when I was temporarily homeless, penniless and trying to get organised (again!). That experience led me to the worst job of my life. Spud-u-like (do they still exist, in ‘normal’ times?) on Brighton sea front. Largely because the bloke in the Job Centre did not believe me that I needed emergency payment … “I’m sure a nice girl (sic*) like you will find something, somewhere to stay” – stunned by the obvious undertone, I wanted to land that punch – or even a punchline. Instead I walked out fuming. Anyhow, nostalgia is nothing to get bogged down in… I’ve made a career of avoiding it. If only there was another word.
[* ‘girl’ – was an anachronism to me even back in the 80s; actually, I was about 27 so as well as insulting, demeaning and patronising, it was inaccurate.]
I am still isolating – I still have a mother in hospital in Somerset – I still can’t work out how I (or the larger we) can get out of this. I am appalled by the inability of people to read a graph, or realise that scientists disagree, that science is ever-evolving and is never totally correct at a particular time. And that, mixed with a showboating ego and advisers we don’t know or see or vote for, is dangerous. Public office is just that – or should be. I don’t care that BJ had to get Brexit done, get divorce done, get engagement done, get baby done and all that personal baggage. Public Office should mean that – your absolute priority – or move along, stand down, become furloughed, take sick leave, take a pay cut, get out the way. know this is ‘unprecedented’
I hate the fact that any semblance of democracy seems to have disappeared – edicts, speeches, little opportunity to challenge, only agreeing to be cross examined by the lightest of light weight interviewers. I am angry. And that means I switch off, avoid, ignore … because I don’t want to be permanently angry … which means I add to the lack of scrutiny and crumbling of democracy.
So, today we wait for a hastily tweaked 50-page document which purports to be UK policy, although the devolved nations have already gone rogue, so is really an English policy. The invidious nature of stretching to breaking consent policing, we’ve seen this before (that nostalgia is creeping in, and it isn’t rose tinted). No doubt this will be late (as things seem to be) with little time to scrutinise before the 3.30 presidential PM address. We can only hope that the renowned forensic scrutiny of the L. of Op. will flag up the dangers of this – for health, for society, for democracy. I certainly no longer place any faith that the Speaker will force the issue.
1985 – nostalgia again – we gave up, we left, the Miners’, the Beanfield, Stonehenge, the Public Order Act, unlawful assembly, militarisation of the police, the ‘unrest’. Seen everywhere that year spray canned, painted, printed and sewed “Last one to leave the country, please turn off the lights.”

Monday 11 May, 00.24 – I Can’t Sleep.

I can’t sleep. Earlier today (although it’s actually the day after at time of writing) Prime Minister Boris ‘Take It On The Chin’ Johnson spoke in a prerecorded speech about steps moving forward. It has become clear, or at least it feels clear to me that we are nowhere near ready. If you are not planning to reopen hospitality until at least 1st July (perhaps more details are to come but the dates feel abstract- did they literally just pick the start of a month because it sounded good?) then we are far away from this being over. I felt like I knew this, but hearing it always feels worse.

I do wonder if his own experience of the virus has made him realise just how serious the matter is. He seemed deadly serious in his speech – slamming tables, stressing the crisis in care homes – and yet I cannot take the man seriously. He and his government have put my family and friends at risk – something I cannot forgive. I suppose it is not personal, but I can’t help but take it very personally. They have given unclear and inconsistent advice and failed to provide adequate support where needed – and now it feels as though the plan is to blackmail the poorest in society into going back into work to kickstart the economy. I am lucky and very privileged- I work from home safely. I worry for my mother – this whole time she has continued to go to her minimum wage manufacturing job despite having conditions that place her in the high risk category, but she is too afraid that she cannot afford to isolate.

And so, tonight I can’t sleep because I am filled with fear and rage and anxiety. Sleep is the only time I don’t feel haunted by the virus (and this isn’t even true every night anymore) and tonight the government have even taken sleep from me. I do hope the Prime Minister’s new baby gives him the same issue.

10th May, 2020 – The Prime Minister’s Speech on Easing the Lockdown
I thought I was very lucky. I’d been unable to find a job before the lockdown, and with my classes all going online, I decided it was best to move back in with my parents, who have a nice house with a big garden, so I’ve really been trying to keep from complaining. Until today. Boris Johnson has just talked about easing the lockdown measures in England so that more workers (read: minimum-wage workers) can go back to work, even though we’re clearly not even slightly out of the woods. With this in mind, the summer job I applied to do at my university will probably want me to come in to the office and work from there. The problem is that my student house currently has a suspected COVID-19 case in. I can’t go back. I feel selfish for being scared; there are other people in much worse situations than me, people starving, people running out of money, people in abusive situations. But still, I feel like I’m in the incinerator from Toy Story 3, trying desperately to run from a massive fiery hole, and someone’s at the controls, and everyone’s screaming for them to do something and they’re just singing Vera Bloody Lynn as though if we were all a little more gung-ho and Blitz Spirited about this then we’d all be muddling along nicely. I hate that our country is nearly the laughing stock of the world. I hate the idea that smug people are going to be blaming us for Boris Johnson. I just want to scream and scream as loud as I can, and when I stop, everyone will just do the actual right thing, and the virus will be gone, and we’ll all agree that we can never let it get this bad again, and we’ll mean it.

10th May 2020

I’m bored of being bored. I’m tired of my brain feeling like it’s made of porridge, like it’s atrophying from the lack of stimulation. I’m fed up of seeing reports of people flouting lockdown rules, and I’m simultaneously angry at what a nation of snitches we’ve become. We’re all curtain twitchers these days. “Is Margaret across the road really going out AGAIN? That’s the second time today!” “I’m sure Jim never used to walk his dog this much before lockdown.”

And you know, I think above all, I’m sick of the relentless optimists who keep trying to tout this whole lockdown period as some fecund field of personal growth. It’s not. We can’t all spend our time meditating and making sourdough bread, Sandra. For a start, there’s still no flour.

I didn’t think that my mental health was going to be too affected by all this. I felt completely fine for the first month and a half. And now it’s been two months, and it’s not fine any more. I miss seeing people without the barrier of a screen between us. I video call people and I want to step right through that screen.

But that all said, I’m glad I live in Wales. Boris Johnson has just spoken of lifting some of the restrictions in England, and now the slogan is ‘stay alert, control the virus, save lives’. Which is yet another example of the rock solid, completely unmistakable guidance with no room whatsoever for varied and conflicting interpretations that the government has been trotting out. (I jest; the guidance is flimsier than filo pastry.) ‘Stay alert’? What does that even mean? Keep your eyes peeled for that invisible virus? It’s ridiculous.

In Wales, our lockdown has been officially extended for another 3 weeks, and as much as my heart sank when I first read that, I’m grateful for it now. We’re absolutely not ready to start lifting restrictions, as hard as it is to live under them. Just yesterday, on May 9th, there were 3896 new cases confirmed in the UK (and 95,845 new cases worldwide, which means we had 4% of new confirmed cases on May 9th.) And again as of yesterday, the death toll worldwide was confirmed at 279,000 (although who knows what the real number is.) The UK’s proportion of that is confirmed at 31,587 (and again, the real figure is likely many more.) That means that, according to the confirmed case figures, the UK has had just over 11% of the world’s deaths from Covid-19. And yet Boris wants to start easing restrictions.

I’m fed up, frustrated, bored, and cranky, but at least I’m not in England.

This country makes me sick. Yesterday was VE Day and the news coverage of people just abandoning everything and having street parties is astounding. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of nationalist, jingoistic BS at the best of times, but there’s a depressing irony about people getting together to celebrate the sacrifices of others whilst refusing to do the same themselves. I can’t help but wonder how many people will suffer as a result of this, or how many would have been saved if it was raining yesterday.
I just choked on a crumpet. The only thought that popped into my head while I was trying to cough was how sad it would be to die alone in my flat because of a crumpet. And then there are people living with their families in suburbia, with gardens and people around them who just can’t possibly be denied the chance to throw up the bunting and risk making everything worse. I haven’t had a meaningful non-virtual interaction with another soul in months, but somehow, I just can’t bring myself to endanger other people or to contribute to this goddamn situation carrying on for longer than it has to because I want to see everyone I know. Even if I’m risking a premature carb-related death in the process.
In all seriousness, please don’t think I’m going out tutting at families who go out and play frisbee on the playing fields, or taking pictures of people sitting on benches – everyone is dealing with their situations as best they can, and lots of us don’t have the luxury of our own outside spaces. But somehow, I just can’t see how it’s legitimately okay to throw a massive party.
My brother is a paramedic and he is having to deal with some awful stuff at work. I was on the phone with him yesterday and he had to pause to report the house across his street to the police for having a huge get-together. His job is so difficult and dangerous right now, he was (understandably) pissed off. For people (potentially the same people banging on pans for the NHS every Thursday…) to just say “fuck you” to everyone like that…? It’s sickening.
I feel like I should write something positive… I spoke to a counsellor for the first time this week. Online – I wasn’t brave enough to phone. I have okay days and thoroughly terrible ones, but I’ve been worrying about going off the deep-end recently, and it was useful to talk things through with someone neutral. He made me feel like my concerns were legitimate which was surprisingly useful, being that I’ve mostly been trying to cope by dismissing them as irrational. I’m doing okay at the moment, less existential worries, and all that comes with it. I hope it lasts.
I’m not sure if that counts as positive…? It’s the best I’ve got right now.

Two days ago I received an antibody test, as I was sick for six weeks from February through March with a heavy cough and respiratory pain. I am still awaiting results. It is approximately day 75 of the lockdown. People are becoming more and more frustrated, and many are no longer complying with official orders. Guidance from our state governor is vague and non-committal, and people are becoming frustrated with the lack of an exit strategy from lockdown. Unemployment locally is sitting around 35%, there are sporadic food shortages at major grocery stores, however restaurants remain well stocked.

We have lost four people at my job, and the disease has gone around in three waves. Everyone on the job has been exposed by now. I have stopped keeping track of close contacts that have tested positive. The total death toll for transit workers in the city sits at over 100, more than every police officer killed on duty in the last 40 years. Over 5000 have been sick.

Public transport is a key essential service, and the buses are still very busy. Most riders are hospital workers or other essential workers who cannot work from home. Routes to and from hospitals have become very busy, I have been working to schedule extra buses to relieve crowding. I am so proud of all the drivers and mechanics I have worked with who continue to come to work to provide these services, despite all the illness around them.

The extensive time and extra hours I spend working has led to me feeling in a bubble, disconnected from what is going on outside of the bus garage and its environs. Outside of work, everyone is angry. Angry at the governor, angry at China, angry at the President, angry at each other. The level of human suffering from economic causes has without a doubt overshadowed the initial suffering from the virus. There is a huge debate going on, both sides without any rational arguments or data, those who want to reopen everything and those who want everything to remain closed indefinitely. A reopening is needed without any further delay, however it needs to be done carefully, and hypercharged polarized debates aren’t helpful.

My own mental health seems better than normal lately. Extra work keeps me sane. In addition to working I pass the time to exercise a lot, I am now running several miles a day to stay healthy and exercise my lungs, and doing push ups and pull ups at home to retain muscle mass. Virtually all the deaths here have been from people in poor health, so exercise, especially lung health, is a major priority for me. I have also increased my sleep from 7-8 hours to nearly 10-12 hours per night, mainly because of boredom and fatigue from running.

I fear the current path is unsustainable, and I know the levels of unemployment will lead to more disaster in the future. I fear a disenfranchised working class will only add fuel to Trumpism and other extremist politics. Bipartisan rhetoric is becoming increasingly isolationist, and I am sure the post Coronavirus era will be one of closed borders, restricted movement and suspicion of immigrants. I feel certain that the globalized world we once knew will cease to exist, and global mobility will not exist in the way it once had. I feel fortunate to have traveled extensively last summer, flying to Europe twice, and I know it will be many years before I will be able to again. I take solace in remembering the trips I took over the summer when I am feeling trapped in my apartment.

The playgrounds have reopened. A child was scared of my youngest daughter. As it turns out, she’d never seen a child with curls before and it freaked her out. Then her mom asked: “Can I touch her hair?” I said of course. Later a family member told me we should have kept social distance. Hadn’t thought of that.