It Could Be Worse

I’m sure I’m not alone in having started this lockdown in the blind and misplaced belief that I would use this time to write my bestselling memoirs, learn 7 languages, read all the books on my shelves, find inner peace, follow Charles Bronson’s Solitary Fitness schedule, and fall into a cinematic forbidden love scenario with a man in the block of flats across from mine after joining in with an open window neighbourhood rendition of Skepta’s Shutdown- you know, achievable stuff.

Within three days of working from home I had shaken the shackles of underwear, refused to open my curtains and forgotten everything I ever learned about how to speak to another human being using my mouth. I think there was some kind of system in place at the beginning of my spell of working from home and not leaving the house but it fell apart with almost impressive speed. I seem to remember having an (admittedly slender) grasp on social norms and values, but I think I’m at the point at which any reintroduction back into society will have to be stringently planned lest I say “love you” to a bus driver instead of “thank you.” When I was first sent home from work for the foreseeable future I was scared to be alone- now I’m scared not to be.

I like to think I understand myself well enough to know what I need to do to keep my mental health maintained, but there is absolutely no blueprint for this. No one tells you what to do or how to feel when you are in lockdown. My personal circumstances mean that I am in lockdown alone pretty much in one room in a city far away from home, which is pretty difficult. Of all the doctors and psychiatrists I’ve seen, all the books I’ve read, all the people I’ve spoken to with similar experiences to me, I have never been given mental health guidance specific to this utterly otherworldly situation. I miss my parents, my friends, walks, the cinema, the pub. I’ve found myself pulled into a vortex of gloomy news stories about how the global situation has brought out the worst in people. I work just to have something to do. I fall into old thought patterns and have too much time on my hands to self-critique, but apparently not enough time to create or look after myself. Some mental health measures a lot of us used even two weeks ago are not available to us now.

Every problem I just listed could very much be seen as being drenched in privilege- I know that. I am lucky to have a job I can do from home, parents and friends to miss, curtains to not open, things to be getting on with. I’m lucky that I’m not physically ill and I don’t know anyone who currently is. This situation is not a competition, though. You can allow yourself to feel lonely, sad and scared while also retaining awareness of your own privilege. It’s not one or the other.

Shaming yourself or someone else for having no idea how to react to an unprecedented global situation is damaging. Sure, there is an overarching issue right now- but that doesn’t mean there are no other issues. For some of us, in the space of two weeks we have gone from living lives we’ve spent decades working towards to being confined to a small space for an indeterminable amount of time. Shaming yourself or someone else for being lonely or scared and comparing your circumstances to someone else’s is damaging. This is not a situation any of us could have really mentally prepared for and, as naturally social beings, we are not built for this. You’re allowed to miss the world we had a couple of weeks ago. Sure, it could be worse, but you could say that about basically anything.

Feeling unsure of what to do with yourself right now is valid. I had all these ideas of how I’d spend my time at home- all those completely normal and reasonable things I wanted to achieve. I think the problem here is twofold. The first problem is that I have absolutely internalised the idea that my worth is tied to my productivity. The second is that I have so much time on my hands that it’s at the same time overwhelming in its vast expanse and it gives too much room to be able to say “fuck it, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Self-discipline has never been my strong point, as anyone who has ever asked me to go to the pub on a school night will attest to. I will go off the deep end with even the slightest nudge. When all social rules and time constraints go out the window, when you cannot see the people you love, what can you focus in on?

I have been focusing on the things I can change. I know this is a horrendous cliché, but we are faced with a cataclysmic event that’s shaping policy, behaviour and economy the world over. Occasionally turning the telescope round to focus in on the small rather than the large is helpful. As always, of course, stay informed- but logging off Twitter for the night and calling someone you love to check they’re alright is a change you can make to create a positive impact beyond yourself.

Amidst the panic buyers, social non-distancers and Tim Martins of the world, I have seen some astounding acts of kindness in the last couple of weeks. Cards posted through letterboxes with phone numbers to call for grocery shopping and friendly chats; businesses supporting their employees and communities; people taking to social media to offer their skills as teachers; and of course every astonishing healthcare worker’s endless commitment to keeping everyone safe. As a huge fan of film and cinema I’ve been sad to see independent cinemas I love close their doors, but it’s been heartening to see their soar in membership and gift card sales. People really do care. Try and find the good- you don’t even have to look very far.

This is undeniably shit. It’s shit for everyone and we have no blueprint to work from in terms of how to keep our mental health afloat during this time. Your feelings are valid, but there is good to be found. Please don’t tell yourself that it could be worse.