A little joy never hurt anyone
In every day life, I can be counted upon to stress over a diverse array of things. My friend hasn’t replied to my text in over a week… We aren’t sticking to our monthly household budget…Are we saving enough? Am I a good enough teacher?
These are the bread and butter of my worries and every so often, especially if I have missed an exercise opportunity or forgotten to journal my thoughts, I can sink into a deep state of melancholy; fed by a negative internal monologue. The monologue follows the usual script: criticism; for being ungrateful for the privileges of my life, disgust; for the indulgence in melancholy; and finally, a step toward getting out of the funk by using any means necessary. This list includes anything from yoga to a teary outpouring of emotions with a loved one. I am temporarily soothed and can continue as an outwardly normal human being who is secretly an anxious basket case.
The “state of the world” worry is always at the back of my mind, providing the background noise to my general anxiety, like the low-hum of a refrigerator. The start of 2020 has increased that noise to an ear-splitting pneumatic drilling. The devastating Australian bushfires, the implication the fires have meant for global warming, our utterly depressing politicians and the coronavirus have made their effects known in barely a month, rippling outward and crashing into every person’s psyche.
As someone who has made Hong Kong their home over the past two years, I have been following the outbreak with an obsessive interest. The comparisons to the SARS virus have been undeniable, with the world wringing their hands as they try to combat the spread as best they can. Wuhan, the capital city of Hubei province, and a city five times the size of London, has been put on lockdown. Since then, every province in China as well as Hong Kong, Singapore, the USA, Germany, Japan, Malaysia and Australia, have reported cases of the virus. An estimated 170 people in China have died.
Here in Hong Kong, there have been 12 cases reported with, thankfully, no deaths. The patients have been quarantined and are being treated. The Hong Kong government has halted all rail and bus services between the city and mainland China and the border has been partially closed. What makes the situation more eerie is that the outbreak has coincided with the celebration of Lunar New Year. Typically, the city is full of joy, red and gold decorations, dragon dances and the beating of drums. People travel as far as Canada to visit relatives. For many, this is the only holiday they get a year. Hong Kong has been rocked to its core by political change since last June. Many were looking forward to the New Year as a chance to come together despite political affiliation.
As the coronavirus is spreading rapidly through China, panic is infecting Hong Kong instead. For those who lived through the SARS epidemic, no precaution is too small. The past week has seen my preference for panic justified as I combed the grim news bulletins. I don’t normally wear a surgical mask, but made sure to use one when using public transport. Being on holiday, I found myself monitoring where I went. I’ve cancelled meeting up with friends and stuck to my neighborhood, only going to the grocery store and back. I’ve been holed up at home guiltily watching Netflix or spring cleaning the apartment. The streets aren’t deserted but full of people with masks. All major outlets ran out of masks a few days ago. Any restocked items have been depleted within minutes as people line up for hours to bulk buy. Grocery store shelves have been emptied of produce, meat and water as people panic-bought, convinced this is the apocalypse.
What were we going to do? No masks, supplies dwindling, all major buildings shut. An icy douse of anxiety washed over me. I left the flat and walked down the road to our local coffee spot. Outside it was a chilly blue sky day. I sat on the bench and waited for my husband to meet me. I felt the sunlight on my face, listened to the birds and the quiet low-key activity of the early morning. I sat still and breathed deeply. Afterwards, I felt calmer and there is nothing wrong with that.
Panic isn’t going to help me or anyone. I am concerned about the virus. I practise safe hygiene and preventative measures. I also choose not to buy into the hysteria; not allowing it to hijack the simple joy of living my life despite the state of the world. I sincerely hope for good news, for those suffering to recover and, in the meantime, cherish the simple pleasures where I can.