Lockdown: Day 500
Today marks 500 days since our lives changed in South Africa.
The coronavirus landed in our country last year a few weeks before Easter. I remember walking into the newsroom in January and loudly proclaiming that there’s deep shit unfolding in China. My line manager at the time told me that Corona is not a story and that I should get on with my work.
I wrote the story anyway.
It described a virus attacking the lungs and killing hoards of people in the East. It scared me. It still scares me. And it’s been the source of so much pain and cruelty.
President Cyril Ramaphosa plunged us all into a hard lockdown on, Thursday 26 March 2020.
Since then I’ve been experiencing and observing privilege on a grand scale. I am privileged too let’s not mistake that. I recognize my privilege.
My panic buying, the ease at which I’m able to get food and medicine delivered to my complex does not compare to the pain felt by those living in Alexandra for example. Not by a mile.
Inequality in our country and the world could not shine any brighter than it does right now. Fact. And it pains me.
I have been watching the government. That is my job. To watch them and to critically analyze their peaks and pits. I have been watching people too - I am largely a closet critic. We all are, let’s be honest. I have been observing vitriol spewed towards those in a position of power and I have seen the inner thoughts of those I once admired being spilled out uncontrollably towards people in a very nasty way. It makes me want to scream.
People have been busy on social media too. Criticizing from the comfort of their armchairs. I’ve witnessed colleagues and friends, some who have battled Covid, being slammed by non-journalists who don’t like what they see or hear in the news. We forget sometimes that while a large majority of the corporate world has the luxury of working in the comfort of their own home, there’s also a pool of people who have never lived that life. I am in that pool. I have been since day one of this lockdown. Journalists do the best they can, some with limited resources, to bring you the news every day. In the past month, on two occasions, I’ve read the most horrible things aimed at Dasen Thathiah and Karyn Maughan. Both are my peers and dear friends.
Now I can list their career highlights but I won’t. What I want is to remind you of the human beings behind the reporter. The human who risks their life every day to tell you a story and keep you informed about your country.
They also have a family and they also have feelings. But they choose their job over their sanity most days and if anything this past year should have taught us, is that we should be kinder. In my opinion most of us are and have become harsher. Harsher critics, harsher judges because this pandemic is harsh. It’s cruel on so many levels.
Personally, this past year and a half has been absolute torture. As a single person, I have been forced to adjust how I date, who I allow into my space, how I shop, where I shop, how I exercise physically and mentally, how I communicate in general and how I think.
Mentally, the anguish of losing friends to this satanic cell of a virus is changing my DNA. I’m shifting in and out of PTSD with such frequency these days that sometimes when I wake up I don’t even recognize what day it is anymore.
At night I sometimes lay in bed for hours looking at the old birthday balloons that hang from my ceiling. I try to catch my breath because anxiety is paralysing.
Last month I made a batch of weed muffins so potent it would’ve made Marilyn Manson shiver. I was blogging when the drug took effect and the shadow from the flowers on the table started growing larger on the wall behind it.
So large in fact that I immediately shut my laptop off and started to veer towards my room. Only my walk to my room wasn’t a walk. I was crawling because I couldn’t feel my legs or my face. The walls were even moving like the balloon man in the wind and my heart was pounding. Time to sleep, I thought. I didn’t even change into PJ’s that night. Honestly, I just closed my eyes and woke up the next day on top of my bed clutching my hot water bottle. I dialed my doctor immediately.
Single life is not as fun as you imagine some days. In fact, it’s downright horrendous in a pandemic. It’s isolating and it can make you question your life choices even on your best day.
My shifts have also been fluctuating lately because so many of my colleagues got sick or have been on leave. Their suffering has made me sad, fearful, and sober. My business is running on fumes and I’ve been bleeding startup costs since the beginning of the year. But I’m still pushing for orders. I refuse to bend to this virus and I refuse to give it any more power than it’s already collected from my soul.
Last week I went on anti-anxiety medication for the first time in years. Not because I wanted it but because I needed it. When I first started working at etv a journalist there told me that anyone who takes drugs for a mental disorder is not strong. That had stuck with me and I’m bringing this up now because I want to discard bullshit that is being engraved in us by people who hold no medical qualification whatsoever.
It is NOT a weakness to identify a problem in your mind. Neither is it a weakness if you’re unable to cope with something mentally. I’ve said this before and I stand on my statement. You CANNOT pray away depression and anxiety. God designed doctors for a reason and the drugs on the market that balance you hormonally are good. Not bad.
This year has unfolded disastrously, what with two waves and riots. But I’ve seen resilience and have been admiring the power of many hands joining together in charity. I’ve learnt so much about myself and my abilities and even though I have a long road ahead of me I trust my instincts so much better than I did last year or the year before. Spending time with myself is comfortable and I’m able to dance and laugh by myself without yearning for companionship the way I did initially. It’s because I recognize that I’m exactly where I am meant to be right now in my life.
Covid-19 however still lurks and while I may not have contracted it yet I am fearful. Not scared. I am fearful, and there’s a difference. To be scared is to be fearful. But to be fearful is to display fear and show anxiety. It is perfectly okay to be fearful and as a Christian, you shouldn’t feel guilty for being fearful. You should own it and ask God for guidance, restoration and peace.
He is for you and it will come.
Maybe not this instant or tomorrow but it’s coming.
Hope.
Fear is a perfectly natural feeling and response to changing circumstances. Don’t belittle it or your body’s flight and fight response. Actively seek change is you want it but give yourself time to understand yourself fully and feel. Feel everything intimately like you would feel love.
Covid-19 has seen me shout at random strangers for not wearing their masks properly. It’s made me avoid celebrations. It’s seen me avoid my family in every wave. It has also stolen my friends and friends of my friends and their family.
I am pained by people who cannot see the importance of the vaccine. My best friend’s life was most likely spared because of it. How can you not want to be vaccinated, is the question I’m often wondering when I talk to anti-vaccers? How can you not want to intercept death?
Two days ago I asked God why am I still breathing. And instead of wallowing in grief it got me thinking about what makes me breathe easier.
Running makes me breathe easier. My family and friends whom I love and who love me make me breathe easier. My work and my colleagues make me breathe easier. The list is long but here are my top 10.
Jesus
running
nature
family
friends
chocolate
coffee
sunrises
water
connection
What makes you breathe easier?
Do commitments give you anxiety?
What about this last year made you thankful and want to expand as an individual?
Do you know what you want out of this year, or are you just waiting?
How are you feeling?
I’ve grown more in these 500 days than I ever have in the last decade.
And do you know why I keep saying this?
It’s because I have decided that I will not let anything or anyone define me anymore. Loss is a part of life and I’m not trivialising it in any way. What I want to remind you of is that you’re here for a reason. You’re not here for nothing. You are still breathing and you have a purpose.
God can still use you and I believe that your potential is large. You can still be whoever you want to be, but you have to do what you can to be bigger.
If you haven't been doing this already, break yourself open every day and serve. Serve your family, friends, your community, your work colleagues, and strangers.
Serve them with a heart full of love and grace and don’t treat them like a commodity.
No one that is here on this earth, even an anti-vaccer, for no reason.
I’m convinced.
Be kind and mindful of who you point a finger at and who you break with your words because tomorrow is another day and you just never know if you’ll ever have an opportunity to say sorry.
500 days in lockdown equates to 500 reasons to expand your love network.
Start somewhere.
My friend and neighbor Michelle took this pic of me a few days after Celeste died. My heart and spirit was in shambles.
My friend Caity who always thinks about others keeps me sane.
RunLikeAGirlFourways ladies. They are the best part of every week.
Running with my friend and former trainer, Kate.
Catching up with Kimberly and keeping a safe distance from each other.
My mother and I having a chat via WhatsApp call.
I still dress up for Rivers church online.
Formidable runners and even better friends.
Kayleigh, the daughter of friends Franco and Shay, who loves chocolate and teaches me to look at life through bifocals.
Franco and Shay - my daily joy. I haven’t gone longer than a day without speaking to either one of them and my life is rich because of their love.
