Ups and downs.
Where do I start with the last few months? Where do any of us start?
I’ve re-written this paragraph about 6 times now. It’s still hard to put this whole lockdown thing into words. The pandemic is still lurking around, at odds with the general feeling of ‘back to normality’ that is filtering through the press and official advice. Back to normal, but with masks. Not quite normal.
I’m knackered. I mean, I’m always knackered, but this is a different kind of fatigued. Tired through my bones, tired through my soul, tired in the past and in the future. Dragged down. Wading through mud.
Routine has gone out the window. I haven’t cleaned the house in six weeks, at least. The garden grows wilder. My walking routes are trodden by feet other than mine. Small jobs become big jobs. I read and re-read a sentence ten times over, and still it doesn’t compute. I’ve felt down and grey, then slowly back to almost-normal. Yet that normal is something else entirely, now. I’m all over the place. The world is all over the place.
Mixed messages and confusion rains down from those in charge. We’ve lost our normal and it is replaced by a scattered reality. Emotions, and death, and confusion, and Brexit. The UK isn’t OK right now.
Sometimes I wander, sometimes I hide. I try to make structures for days and studies and generally for life, but they are flimsy at best and soon fall. I float, as many do right now. We grab on to what we can.
I grieve for the normal of just a few months ago. Plans, goals, good times. Drifting through it all. I know that I’ll find land in time. It’s just…. hard to explain. A loss of something intangible, yet so important.
I float on, bobbing in the tide, following a current to a destination none of us can see.