It’s been a while since my last blog post. The drafts have been piling up, I’ve just not been able to hit publish on anything.
I suppose the words I’ve been writing just feel so incredibly unimportant given the various global crises.
I’ve had a very busy few work months. It feels weird to say that, having witnessed close friends and family lose work or be placed on furlough.
Myself and family were incredibly unwell in March; right before the COVID-19 pandemic took full force. I’d guess we’re on our 10th or 11th week of pseudo-isolation now.
As an introvert with a busy remote-working job, I haven’t struggled too much to adapt to our new restricted lifestyle. In many ways it’s been positive for my mental health. That’s a tough thing to admit when there are millions in dire straits. A certain privilege check.
The quarantine has allowed me more time with my family. More time reading, cooking, learning, listening. More time refining my relationships. More time appreciating.
I suppose I’m an anomaly. I see a calendar event for a pleasant gathering and it weighs as heavy as a day of meetings. The view of an empty schedule does a lot to assuage pressure and inspire freedom. Quite an oxymoron in the present climate.
I see them though. The sacrifices being made. A world of sacrifices. Front-line workers with their lives, business owners with their livelihoods, humankind with its liberty.
Such sacrifices bring out the best and worst in people. There’s no shortage of finger pointing at lockdown snubbers, or complaints to large corporations and governments for their lacklustre responses.
Amongst that, windows are decorated in colourful hand-crafted appreciation drawings, organisations ramp up refuge and council to victims of domestic abuse, mental-health guidance advances from the middle-pages.
We’re adapting; preparing ourselves for a new normal. A necessary change. Things won’t go back to the way they were. Not in my lifetime.
But we’re adapting, because that’s what we do.