Enforced solitude has been a wake-up call. I have invested time in cooking, rummaging around in nature and connecting with other people
When the lockdown was announced, I worried that losing the option of seeing friends would be disastrous for my mental health. I live alone and often work from home, so solitude is my baseline. It can be lonely, of course. My dog’s need for exercise and attention breaks things up – even if her conversation is limited – but planning to see people keeps me buoyant. The first few days were ripe with catastrophising. One afternoon, my throat felt dry. I thought: ‘Here we go, the panic attacks are starting.’ That I had been silently staring out the window, eating one Digestive after another, is by the by.
Jealousy of friends with partners and gardens quickly swelled; shared meals and body warmth felt so far away. Of course, it goes both ways: my aloneness is something that friends with rambunctious toddlers envy. In lockdown, life has shrunk to the size of a few rooms, so the volume of our inner dialogue shoots up. There’s so much time to think. The elastic quality of time right now – because we don’t know when this ends – is distressing, too, and as a self-employed person I’m scared, but I’ve surprised myself mentally. I’m doing all right so far.
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