There's a saying going round. It's all over social media. "Our grandfathers were called to war. All we're being asked to do is sit on the couch." But for most, it's not what we're being asked to do that's causing problems, it's change. Few people embrace it with open arms. And right now, we're waking up to a new reality, not annually, not even weekly, but daily.
On a Saturday two weeks ago I got an email saying the festival I'd planned to go to in Austin, Texas was cancelled. A couple of days before that Linda and I had met for dinner and decided it would be OK to go whether it was on or not. By the time we received our emails, it didn't seem OK at all. But we did discuss going away in the UK. Very quickly, that didn't seem OK either. The following weekend, I went to the pub and that seemed OK. On the Monday, I went into central London for a counselling session. By the Thursday, it no longer felt OK to travel by public transport. The next day, gyms, pubs and restaurants closed. And even if they hadn't done, I would not have felt it was OK to go to one. On Monday this week, I was still going walking with friends. By Tuesday, that was no longer OK - in fact it was about to become law that it wasn't OK.
Each of these changes has had me making a big shift. Not just in what I'm doing, but in how I'm feeling. All this is overlaid by the fear and panic about Corona virus itself. And of trying to clear my mind from the stream of news and the opinions of friends and family to decide what's the wrong or right thing for me personally. Sometimes, it's been quite easy to decide and adapt. Others not so much. Each time, it's required me to rethink how life is. Each time it's accompanied by a feeling that mine is spinning completely out of control.
The disappointment of not going on my long-planned and much-looked-forward-to holiday I got used to quite quickly. I adjusted my expectations. Swallowed the elements of the cost that I couldn't get back. It was the lesser of the evils. After all, I could have ended up like those poor people on the cruise liner. Quarantined in a room in the Holiday Inn Express in downtown Austin for a month or more. Or getting massively stressed trying to find a form of transport that would take me home. But all I had to do was contact a few people at IKEA to tell them I was available for work and a few friends to arrange to meet, and I'd adapted to the change.
But then things changed again. One of my favourite routines of the week is Thursdays. I get up early, listen to old 70s albums on the hour-and-a-quarter long journey to Deptford. Sit in the Mouse's Tail with my toasted banana bread and americano. Half working, half bantering with the baristas. At 10:15, I head over to the Commando Temple for my PT session with Matt. And more banter. By last Thursday, my anxiety levels over Covid-19 had become high enough that there were no 70s albums or chat in the Mouse's Tail. Just a button pressed on Skype (and, by the way, PT works absolutely brilliantly virtually). I'd adjusted again.
But the most difficult change of all was not being able to see people face-to-face. It's one of the challenges many who live alone will face during the weeks ahead. I have a very close friend, Charmion, who also lives alone, just 4 minutes walk away. She's the person I exchange daily stuff with. Who I can talk to and laugh with about just about anything. She is the kind of friend who you want with you in a crisis. And who you know for certain will drop everything to be there if you ask. Until Covid-19 came along, I had no idea how much I relied on this last aspect of her friendship. In the new reality that existed between Friday and Monday, we were meeting for long walks once or twice a day. I was utterly dismayed and quite tearful when I woke up on Tuesday morning to the news that this was no longer possible. The phone and Facetime are all very well, but nothing beats seeing someone physically - especially during this time of many meltdowns. But guess what? We've established a new pattern. On our solo daily exercise outings, we pass each other's flats and have yelled conversations from a distance through the window. But tomorrow, I may wake up to find that is no longer possible. And I will have to adapt to change again.