Writing about writing, huh?
Not today!
Though given that I’ve only published two blog posts in the past three months … I’ll just say that, if I do have any actual human readers left at this stage, I will never be able to adequately express my awe in the face of your persistence. It is very much appreciated.
Here in NZ, it’s the end of Day 1 of lockdown: for the next four weeks, we’re all supposed to stay at home, practice social distancing, and self-isolate if we start getting symptoms. We can go out for walks, but not to meet up (unless we live alone, in which case apparently there’s the option for a “buddy system”, it’s all a bit head-scratching to be honest), and of course we can access essential services like supermarkets and hospitals (and mechanics, apparently? Also some hardware stores?). But essentially, we’re all supposed to just stay at home: no eating out or ordering takeaways; no going to the movies; no hanging out with friends. It’s unprecedented in this country, and for many others, too. People are having to come to terms with the stark reality of being confined to their homes for the next several weeks – and potentially having to do it all again if these measures aren’t enough. It’s like something out of a post-apocalyptic novel.
… gotta be honest, feels pretty normal to me.
I am having some very interesting thoughts and reflections right now, and they’re all stemming from the fact that, even with a deadly virus with no cure (yet) ravaging the entire planet, my day-to-day life looks … pretty much the same as it ever has. Well, the same as it has since I was, I dunno, 16 or thereabouts. I’m 33 in four weeks; my 33rd birthday is going to be the week after we are due to come out of lockdown, actually. I may do something to celebrate this year after all.
And sure, that’s not totally true. I’ve felt dirty and ashamed and malformed for almost twenty years for my feelings of inadequacy in social situations, to the point where I’ve built my life around avoiding them beyond what feels essential – mostly. That “mostly” is starting to become very distinct for me as I reflect upon my life and how it came to be this way, because I do actually have friends that I see, almost like clockwork, once a week for our D&D session. Before that, I did arrange the odd meet-up with the few friends that I have who actually had time to spend meeting up; and of course I went to university and had to attend lectures and tutorials and even *gasp* made some friends with whom I wanted to spend time. Not many, though. And that’s the limit of the “mostly”, because while it’s true that I am no longer a truly self-isolated being … well, I have gone four weeks without interacting with anybody not living in the same house as me before. It’s sucked, but I’ve done it. This aspect of lockdown, at least, is not as big of a deal for me as it (rightly) is for so many other people.
And it’s hard not to make that comparison and, in taking stock of my situation, feel a little bit hollow inside. This is, in some ways, the grimmest reminder of how unhappy I am with the way I live my life.
And yet …
As I brought up to my therapist in our last-for-a-while session: this is also exactly the kind of doomsday scenario that my solitary lifestyle has perfectly prepared me for. Four weeks with no human contact beyond the four walls of my house? Please. Give me a real challenge. (Don’t actually; I probably can’t handle it.) Yes, it’s because I’ve been living with intense self-doubt, self-loathing and social anxiety for the past almost-twenty years that has made it difficult if not impossible for me to live a healthy and fulfilling life – but in this particular scenario, the capacity that I have to be perfectly fine (“fine” is a strong word, but I digress) on my own, with only social media to turn to if I want some human interaction, is the exact skill I need right now. Don’t get me wrong; I still want to be rid of my need for it once all of this blows over, and I still have all the same feelings of being a freak and doomed to an eternity of misery based on the fact that I have adapted to live life the way that I have – but, in this very specific, almost cartoonishly extreme circumstance, I find myself actually being very grateful to myself for having developed this capacity.
And, really, that’s probably a much better attitude to have than self-shaming, even outside of a global pandemic. Yeah, it’s disappointing that I have to deal with an irrational fear of rejection, neglect and social manipulation/peer pressure whenever the mere prospect of social interaction rears its ugly head – but the fact that I do have the capacity to survive on my own is, at the very least, a silver lining worth acknowledging. It’s not the life I want, but if I think of what my life might be like if I wasn’t able to go for long stretches of time with only myself and infrequent texting for company (and, to be fair, my family, even though we don’t spend a ton of time together), it quickly becomes clear that this is a skill worth having if I need it. I don’t want to need it, and I’m pretty sure that I can and should get to a point where I don’t need it on a daily basis – but, all things considered, it could definitely be worse.
I’m starting to realise that this is actually the perfect opportunity for me to start practicing some serious self-compassion as well. This is the one time where I have the perfect excuse to frame my capacity for self-imposed social distancing and self-isolation as a strength, rather than something to be ashamed of. And that’s good practice for when all of this is over – because I shouldn’t be ashamed of it in general, simply because shame doesn’t make anything better, and in fact makes it so much harder to get better and move on.
In a sense, lockdown is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
But …
The fact that I’m so well-suited for it comes with another unexpected recognition, and this time it’s kind of a shallow one, sad to say.
Because if there was ever a time for the world to throw so much at me that I was forced to “get real” and “wake up” and “take action”; if there was ever a time where the strange, masochistic fantasy of being forced out of my stupor of apathy and procrastination and irrational, low-level phobia by forces beyond my control and starting on my path to becoming my ideal self …
It would probably look something a lot like COVID-19.
And perhaps for some of you, that’s exactly what’s happening. I literally cannot imagine what that must be like; I can’t imagine how confronting this situation is for you, and my heart goes out to you. But it’s not happening for me, and I find myself feeling … cheated. Which is ridiculous, and objectively speaking I know it’s ridiculous, and astonishingly self-absorbed.
But there are so many of us who cling to this fantasy of being forced to change our awful, maladaptive, fear-driven habits by some irresistible and dire external event; and if COVID-19 isn’t it, what the hell could it possibly be? World War 3? A literal zombie apocalypse?
Or maybe it’s just a fantasy, and it’s time to let it go.
There’s a lot going on in my head right now. Everything feels very much the same, and yet completely alien to me, all at once.
And all of this might.
MIGHT.
End up being fuel for my writing.
No promises; like I say, I’m not feeling the galvanising call to action that I’d always fantasised would come with a massive, world-shaking event like COVID-19. The fact that it all feels like business as usual for me is unexpectedly heartening in most ways, but there is that part of me that’s disappointed I’m not more upset, more in need of self-expression.
Or maybe I’m just in shock, and I’ll feel it in a few days.
I probably will anyway. I’m so sheltered that there are bound to be things I’ll start to notice in the days to come, things I’ve taken for granted or simply haven’t ever been aware of, that come bubbling up to the surface during lockdown. I’m trying not to be an insane person and hope to feel the level of despair and panic that this situation probably actually warrants, just so that I can live out my very own character-growth arc. I’m trying not to be the totally-disconnected-from-reality artist who only sees the world in terms of how it can serve as inspiration for his art.
And I’d be lying through my teeth if I said that there wasn’t a pretty sizeable part of me that’s doing exactly that, and despairing at the lack of material.
Priorities. What are those?
It’s a dark time, and people always say that dark times produce great art. I think of that, and can’t help but feel deficient for the lack of inspiration that this situation is giving me.
I think of that, and think that maybe creative writing is the very last thing I should be worried about right now.
Besides, if I’m right and I’m just in shock, “inspiration” is probably going to be pretty easy to come by over the next four weeks – and thinking realistically, COVID-19 is probably going to be a reality for not just New Zealand but the entire world for way longer than that. I doubt I’ll be this blase about the whole thing for long.
But at the very least, I’m finding some silver linings. That’s probably the best any of us can hope for right now.
In the word of our glorious leader Jacinda Ardern: be strong, but be kind.
We made it through Day 1. That’s enough for now.
Vevacha 