Day Fifty Four

I’m writing this whilst sat on my bed within the four walls of my bedroom. The floral sheets are crumpled, despite my attempt each morning to retain some order by tucking them in. It seems a well-made bed doesn’t stay well-made for long when you spend hours upon hours living your life from it. There’s a pile of dirty laundry sitting in front of me, a scattering of cardboard Amazon boxes on the floor, and a small mountain of unread books on my bedside table, but the motivation to clear any of this up is non-existent.

Behind me shines the soft glow from a string of fairy lights I found in a box tucked under my bed; a quick decorative addition in an attempt to brighten up the space I occupy most these days. Because if we have to stay inside, it might as well look pretty. A half-finished dress adorned with needles and threads hangs from my wardrobe – an ongoing quarantine project – and a succulent on my mantle-piece is slowly drowning from my over-generous watering.

To my right, the window looks out over the back garden, the space where I reconnect with the outside most, and the sun is shining for the countless day in a row. I don’t remember the last time we had a Spring this warm. For the first few weeks of lockdown, all I would hear would be the neighbours’ children playing in both gardens to the sides, laughing and squealing as they jumped on their new trampolines. I realise that I haven’t actually heard them outside for a while now.

Today marks Day Fifty Four of lockdown in the UK.

Fifty Four. Seven weeks and five days. Really? I have to individually count the squares in my calendar to confirm that amount. Doesn’t time fly when you’re living the same day over and over again?

It feels like yesterday that we watched as our prime minister announced the plans for a three week lockdown. I remember looking at other countries – at Wuhan, at Italy – watching as their lockdowns turned into months. It felt unthinkable to be in that position, yet here we are. And as other countries begin to slowly open their doors and restart their lives again, our small country has become the European epicentre of the virus. It feels like we’re still very much in the midst of our war.

It’s enough to make your head spin.

And believe me, our heads are spinning.

Every day brings a new report about the same story. Rising numbers, depleting PPE, crippling recessions. You can see everyone is struggling. Video calls have become noticeably quieter as people search for the right words to say. What is there to say in a time when it seems nothing changes, but in the same breath everything you know is different?

But there are glimpses of cautious change. Two days ago lockdown measures in England were slightly relaxed, and rather than just being permitted one allowance of exercise per day, we can now spend as much time as we want outdoors. We can also now meet up with one person from outside our households, so long as it’s in the public space and we remain two metres apart. And people are now being encouraged to go to work if they are unable to work from home, apart from those in hospitality and non-essential retail.

It’s change, but anxieties are high. It feels like we’re trying to solve an impossible puzzle. While we’re all desperate to return to at least some resemblance of “normal” life, we’re all very aware of the risks this can bring. And with this new small bit of freedom, we’re all now holding our breath and praying that we don’t see a second wave. If all goes well, then it’s planned that we may start to see a lift of the lockdown by at least July.

For the UK, we’re still in this for the long haul.

It can be difficult to stay hopeful when the end just seems so far away. And when the end does come, what will it bring? What will life be like on the other side of this? Loved ones have been lost, jobs have disappeared, dreams are being questioned. Life as we know it has completely changed and it’s unlikely that it will ever be the same again. Just that statement alone is daunting.

It’s ok to be struggling. Believe me, I’m struggling too.

But we have to stay hopeful. We have to keep looking forward. Even if that’s just by taking it one day at a time, placing one foot in front of the other.

Life isn’t the same, and it may never be the same again, but there are so many lessons we’re learning that can be carried into a better and brighter future. There are still so many things to be grateful for. We’re still finding amazing ways to feel connected with our friends and our families, even during a time when we must stay apart. We’re all working together and looking out for our most vulnerable members of society, uprooting our lives to make sure that they’re protected. And we are finally realising the importance of finding joy in the small things. The things that we so easily overlooked before: a voice at the end of the phone, a hand-written card in the post, an escape into a good book. Even finding that last bag of flour in the supermarket is enough to brighten the week.

Yes, things are tough at the moment. But we will get through this. Check up on your friends, check up on yourself, and don’t feel guilty if you find yourself in a slump with no motivation to tidy your room, to do that workout or to write that blog post (ok, all of those are me right now). It’s ok to have down days. You’re allowed to have a day or three off. Cry if you need to cry. Feel what you need to feel.

We’re all in this together, and while it might not seem like it now, things will get better.

Love, Beth x