The Some of it.

I am, along with many other people, entering a new phase in our lockdown experience and with the change of  events brings a different emotional response. I have been wrestling with writing the lockdown journal,  not only because now I have less time afforded to me, but also because whenever I sit down to write; my emotions will not allow me to write anything light or uplifting. You see, now I am expected to ease my way into 'normal' human existence, the only way I can describe what I am feeling at this present time, is sad. It is a heavy and specific sadness but one that feels unreal and muted. A few mornings last week I woke up as if from a tragic dream and on the brink of tears, a glum feeling and not a clue of where it arrived from. Not fed up, or worried or puzzled but deep rooted sadness. Fortunately, once I get to work and I try and fill my mind with the task in front of me that feeling escapes me and I am occupied, busy and none too concerned - on returning back into my home and to my own devices the feeling returns, only less acute than when I awake.

Of course, I am busy trying to root out why I feel so sad, and why now? I didn't feel this way at the beginning of lockdown, I felt overwhelmed sometimes or anxious but I felt optimism too and an

an inkling that, presented with so much time, I could use if for personal change. I largely dismissed a common thought that told us not to expect productivity, and used the time to be as productive as I could muster, without feelings of regret or defeat. Things felt less out of bounds and I felt a great deal of comfort that no-one else was able to do much more than what was available to their own muster and determination. It was good to feel at the whim of my own decisions,  it was empowering.  But somewhere along the line something changed.

I wonder if I am the only one, who feels like they got over the 'hard bit' relatively unscathed and is now in the midst of a crisis? Perhaps it is the shock of having to navigate through the clamour of adult opinions right now, just as I am plunged into the world of children's voices. There are so many opinions to digest and the facts that lay behind are so hard to root out. In this cacophony, there are the powerful Theys who make the rules and tell us how to live by them and there are the invasive Somes who insist that they 'know more' or 'know best'. This is nothing new but right now the Somes and Theys are so darn loud. They tell us the risk of Covid-19 is now on level 3 - fallen from level 5. I don't know what that means in real terms because I can no longer pour myself over the statistics late into the night. The facts allude my simple mind.  They tell me that we have all worked hard together and made such a change, even though some people were more invested in helping people, than others and some of those less invested were fully signed up members of the Theys. They tell us that we can do things that will lift our spirits, like watch football, go shopping or soon, visit a pub - none of these things really lift my spirits- at least not at this stage in my life. Then there are some: telling me that 'all lives matter', and that the campaigners behind the 'black lives matter' slogan just want to stir up racial tension. Some tell me that no one could have handled this crisis better because it is, after all unprecedented. Some tell me that after all this people will change their attitudes to consumerism and resources, I sigh at the queues for Primark. Some tell me that 'we are all in this together', they still say these things, dismissing the comfort wealth has bought them. Somes and Theys clamouring on and on, ad infinitum. 

Maybe my sadness is just a point of selfishness, I am happy in the noise of my own making but not in those of others. I would like the somes and theys to just tune it down a little. Not to mention, all this return to normal speak has made me question what is my normal and on the face of it, a society based on pointless shopping, football and distanced chats to a visor wearing pub landlord just makes me feel all kinds of sad .I guess for me, and again somewhat selfishly,  many of my points of happiness are still not available: I shouldn't use public transport for a 'jolly' trip. I cannot touch my friends, and I begrudge my legs needing a rest from running.  And as I entered in to another week where I have visited no-one for a socially distanced walk or BBQ as we are allowed to do, I wonder at what point did my particular isolation begin.