Plodding on through more lockdown weeks and feeling a little grey like the weather.

Does anyone else feel like they are plodding slowly through mud each day while wearing heavy soil-clad boots?  It is grey and raining here for the hundredth day (or so it feels) and we are still "staying at home".  Once upon a time, "lockdown" was a new and challenging thing to adjust to.  I embraced it as much as anyone can.  I've made countless delicious meals to make days at home a little more exciting.  Every day I savour my time outdoors on my long daily walk, noticing the signs of nature that are changing around me each week.  I plan my days, set tasks for each week and keep myself pretty busy.  I've done it all.  And now something seems to have changed...

I feel a little "grey" like the endless clouds, which is definitely not like me.  There is no novelty to this staying at home season anymore and I feel like yelling to anyone that can hear, that we've been in lockdown since November 5th in my seaside town.  When a portion of the UK moved into slightly less restrictive measures for a few weeks in December, we stayed put, in Tier 4.  And it is now nearly February with restrictions due to continue until March 8th, making FOUR MONTHS of "staying at home".  It's not that I think these restrictions aren't necessary, I do.  But surely, the wisdom of strict lockdowns for a shorter time makes more sense than these endlessly long "soft" forms which work so slowly.  But maybe we all just too tired to even have this debate anymore by now, as we plod on from week to week wondering once more, when will this end?

This "plodding" stage of the pandemic reminds me of the feeling I often get at the end of a wonderfully long, enjoyable hike.  Being out for the day in nature, with a picnic in a back-pack and a route planned by my map-loving partner is one of my favourite ways to spend time.  For the first five or six miles, I always feel great, full of energy and enjoying the landscape of ancient woodlands or wide expanses of fields.   And only in the last mile or so during the afternoon do I hit this "plodding" stage.  I have only a small amount of energy left, my boots have rubbed a blister and my legs are tired.  So I conserve energy by plodding, not chatting and being less appreciative of nature around me (which takes up energy).  The plodding works because there is an end point and a reward.  Reaching a warm tea-shop for refreshments to celebrate the miles of hiking is the perfect way to rest and recover.

The difference in plodding through these on-going lockdowns, is that there has so far been no "reward" or end-point.  After November's lockdown, there was no celebratory feeling, no Christmas shopping or gatherings, no cafes opening, nothing.  It was like doing a long hike and then getting no coffee and cake afterwards, nor a rest.  Of course, I try to make life at home as okay as possible, but recently it feels like a much greater effort to do the things that help.  When I am out on my daily walks, my mind often whirls around, trying to make sense of the latest pandemic information: the vaccine and all its endless issues, the case numbers or the new variants.  It is as if I am trying to constantly digest the fluctuating situation, or find a solution so that things can improve.  I just want to make it better, to stop this pandemic causing so much difficulty and hug all the NHS workers who must be so utterly exhausted and over-worked.  But all this brain activity, going round and round takes energy which I am obviously needing to conserve.

I almost didn't write this blog post, because after having written an incredible 48 articles about the pandemic, I actually felt blank.  Not because I was blank, but because I was trying to think of something new to write about perhaps or a more positive upbeat message about feeling amazing during lockdown! But if I have learned anything through writing through the pandemic, it is that being honest helps.  Much as I want to always be sunny and positive, maybe it is okay to also feel a little grey now and then?  

If there wasn't a pandemic going on, we would be escaping to Spain next week for a tonic of sunshine and warmth which would fix the grey feeling completely.  Instead, maybe I need to be gentle with myself, rather than judging that I'm not doing lockdown "well".  Grey days will come and go, just like the rainy weather.  If I am truly embracing all the ups and downs of these long pandemic months, then the odd grey moment will surely belong in the colour palette of emotions.  Greyness feels rather like grief, and I wonder if I am feeling some collective grief as we remain so battered and affected by coronavirus in the UK.  And I also remember it is January, the month of anniversaries of the death of my mother and aunt, which always brings echoes of grief.  It is hard to switch off completely from illness and loss that is swirling around us, even if we are fortunate enough to be unaffected so far.

Even though the greyness in the weather hasn't lifted yet, it will and before long we will be embraced by enlivening sunny rays and clear blue skies once again.  And while I plod on through these next weeks, I will remember some lines of Amanda Gorman's poignant poem read ten days ago at President Joe Biden's inauguration.  Her poem, read so eloquently, still lingers with me as inspiration in the greyness:

 

 

"When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade." 

Amanda Gorman