Getting past the fear

For the first time in two weeks I feel truly excited about the day ahead. Not for what it contains. A 14 mile run, which would normally make me feel slightly anxious. Some work on an online learning course about showers and taps. But for what it doesn't contain...

Over the last few weeks something has been spreading a lot faster and more virulently than Covid-19. That thing is fear. I've been feeling it myself. I've seen it in the eyes of others. In the empty cafes. In the way people jump and move away if someone clears their throat or blows their nose.

Fear has caused some to "self-isolate" (the new alarmist jargon for "stay home") already for several weeks. Or stock up on food as if a famine is about to hit. Fight over the last pack of toilet paper in the Co-op. Others have continued with their holidays, their gigs, their conferences until someone puts a stop to those things.

For most of that time, I've not felt stressed by it. Then someone starts banging on about the virus living on hard surfaces. I have a moment of madness. I cancel my cleaning service. Then wonder what the hell I'm thinking of. While being relieved that I've done it. The festival I was going to in Texas last Friday gets cancelled so I don't go on holiday. But in truth, at that stage, I could have done. I let fear stop me. This left me with two free weeks. So I started booking other things to do. Things in Piccadilly Circus and Deptford. Near to home. But I feel the fear here too.

Someone thinks it's fine to go to the pub. I go with them. Someone else decides it's not. And I wonder whether I should have. I've lost my faith in my own judgement. I've been overrun by fear.

Some people use humour to mask their fear. My Facebook feed is full of Corona beer and lemonade jokes. And, of course, ones about toilet paper. I go on there and feel another spike of fear. So I stay away for a while. Others have started to blame the government. But the government hasn't a clue what to do. They are just people like me. Feeling the fear. They gather what expertise they can. But Covid-19 is an unknown quantity. No one knows what the best course of action is.

Some people try to avoid talking about it altogether. Although that is becoming increasingly difficult. Last week, I got through nearly a whole conference call without the subject coming up. Normally our calls start with a bit of chit chat. We asked how each other were and everyone said "I'm fine". Then stopped. No one wanted to go there. Off we went into the 89 page learning solution. Working through it page by page. Avoiding the Corona word. Until someone disappeared off the call. "I'm back," he said when he managed to reconnect. "The system is overloaded today. No one wants to go to the office."

But what are we frightened of? Ultimately I suppose it's death. Which is a possibility with this virus. But it's a possibility that's always there. We spend our lives trying to avoid it by keeping fit, eating healthily, getting enough sleep, having hospital treatment when things go wrong with our bodies. We don't really expect a car or bus to take us out. But it could. Or to be on a plane when it crashes. But we might be.

We carefully construct an illusion of certainty. Of predictability. With our rigidly planned diaries. Our to do lists. Our goals. Our busy busy lives. We use them to blot out the uncertainty we actually live with every day. But appointments get cancelled. We get ill. Something or someone gets in the way of us achieving a goal. Life is uncertain. And each time something comes along to disrupt our illusion of certainty, fear comes to the surface. Sometimes it takes the form of anger and blame. Or tears and beating ourselves up. Or another round of busyness as we try to construct a new certainty. But we can't do that right now. Because we can't plan.

On Sunday I was out with a friend. Looking for a pub on the canal which would be a good meeting point for my 60th birthday event in May. But of course, we don't actually know whether that will take place. We couldn't plan our holiday in Morocco in October because who knows what airlines and hotels will be in operation by then. We stopped at a pub for lunch. It was heaving. By this time next week, no one knows whether a pub Sunday lunch will be possible.

Fear is infectious. And so are its effects. As always the press and social media are fuelling it like crazy. Each day the headlines become a bit more alarmist. A couple of days back, for example, one predicted that the "crisis" will continue in the UK until "late spring 2021" and that over 7.9 million people "could be" hospitalised. But the truth is, no one knows. Anything could happen. Anything. Or nothing. To me. To you. To the world. You and me, we have to find a way to live with that.

We allow ourselves to be sent into a panic about all sorts of things. The last one was Brexit. Before that there was ISIS and Al Quaeda. And before that, the financial crisis. And back and back through time to CJD and the IRA postbox bombs. Some of those things have scared me. Some of them have stopped me doing things.Those things have had a destructive effect on some people's lives, even maiming or killing them. As they might have done on mine. As might this. At this point in time, I don't know. And that is where fear comes in.

But fear is useless. It won't make any difference to whether I die or whether my life changes for the worse. All I'm doing is destroying the now. And the now is good. I don't suppose I've had my last spike of fear. But I'm learning how to deal with them. How to bring myself back into the now.