The fallout

 There are more cars on the road again. The traffic banks up well past the roundabout. The kids have gone back to school, the Summer holidays have come to a close and there’s a weird normality. Tired parents doing supermarket shopping, buying stuff for school lunches.

It’s as if nothing has happened.

But it has.

Internally, I’m longing for mornings where my children don’t have to rush off to the bus. I’m remembering the moments where I had literally nothing to do, nowhere to go. And I’m missing it.

I’m not missing the fear of a virus that seems removed from my little home and bubble. I don’t miss the stress of what it was like for all those working on the front line. I don’t miss the isolation of not being able to see friends and family.

But the strangest thing is that now that I can see friends and family, I’m feeling resistant. There’s something comforting about being in bed in the middle of the day. I hope no-one asks me what I’ve done today – cause it’s not much. Well that's not true - I've been looking for a job, which has to be the most soul destroying this to do when you're feeling shit.

The kids have gone back to their Dad's. But I guess eventually I’ll pull myself out of my bed and pretend that I’m not feeling lost inside.

Maybe it’s melancholy.

Maybe it’s the fall out from 2020.

I was reading a newsletter from Esther Perel the other morning, which offered questions to ponder. One of them was ‘what do you say when people ask you how you are?’ directly followed by ‘ what do you wish you could say?’. The second question feels more poignant.

I’ve been saying ‘I’m ok’ a lot to the first question.

But what I really want to say is ‘I’m not’.

I’m floundering. I don’t know where to fit anymore. I’m socially awkward. I talk too much when people ask me a question, like I’m trying to fill in the space of all the time we missed together. It reminds me of when my children were little and I spent a lot of time at home alone, and when I would catch up with friends, we would try and get all our news out in frantic bursts.

But now, there’s no children interrupting. I just seem to blurt my news and then sit uncomfortably and wait for a response. Like I’ve forgotten how to have a conversation.

And I desire connection but shy away from it. People come up to dance with me on the dancefloor, yet I want to hide in the corner and look away.

Maybe I’m having a mid life crisis.

Maybe I'm just tired.

Who knows...

How are you?

Anna

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