The lockdown, meltdown hot-pot

At the beginning of this lockdown I heard a quote from James Lane Allen: “ Adversity does not build character, it reveals it.” And I puffed my ample chest out and thought to myself , “Meh, piece of cake.” The quote also reminded me of my ex-husband, who often said, “The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war.*” “Eh, What’s 21 days?” I scoffed, “I have ammunition to last a lifetime.”

Well, it turns out — I had no clue.

Because if the morass of emotions I’m feeling — predominantly rage — is anything to go by, I have miles to go before I — yeah ok, just miles to go, period. (rolls eyes)

What on earth do I have to be angry about, you ask? In this privileged cocoon of a life that I lead?! Well heck, since you ask so nicely…

I am angry at the relentlessness of life — I mean really does that floor have to get dirty right after I, with much effort and sweat, mop it clean?! I am distressed — really — at the absence of the level of comfort that I am used to, also angry at the fact that I was used to it, and angrier still at the distinct possibility that I may get used to it, once more. Oh and, excuse me Universe, did April have to get hot again, I mean just for this once — when am bent over the stove every day — couldn’t you have postponed summer?

I am resentful that I need to do some of the heavy lifting for my mother and our dog Taurus, ashamed at feeling this way, angrier still that I can’t blame them. I sure as hell don’t want to blame myself — or horror of horrors — have no one to blame at all! (facepalm)

My sense of outrage at the world, our lack of humanity (mine included), is only fuelled by my disgust at how hypocritically little I am doing or have done for the world. This is only exacerbated by all the things that separate the “haves” and “have nots,” and the true and ugly impact of the lack of inclusion and representation.

I mean let’s just look at being fat and the medical system. My heart goes out to every fat person who is petrified that if they fall sick they may not get the care they deserve because, “Hey, we told you, fat=death.” Or fat people and food or fat people and movement or fat people having to spend time with family members on a mission to change them or fat people alone feeling miserable that they are alone because they are fat. Oh, my heart aches. I feel so powerless and then even more enraged by the hypocrisy of what seems like my trivial personal agony.

But then, I can’t help hurting at the enforced distance between my partner and me, “after such little time together”, I reason. I am infuriated at having to struggle with the triggers from my past — they whisper incessantly: “this is too-good-to-be-true ; there must be something off that you are too-much-of-a-romantic-fool to sniff out.” The joy he brings into my everyday makes me glow and then cower because, “Oh sure you’re enjoying it now, but who’s going to pick up the pieces eh?!” since, “inevitably it must all end”, says the very wise voice of my fear-of-abandonment. And “How,” I rant, “can he be handling my weird so well?” and “WHY,” I ask myself in-shouty-capitals, “couldn’t I have kept my psycho hidden?” F*** OFF, authenticity, don’t mess with me right now!”, I scream, now beyond livid.

Sigh…

Having studied it, preached it, heard it, been repeatedly told it , I know I need to accept all of these emotions as valid — the anger, the fear, the self-criticism, the loneliness, the pain, the sadness, the powerlessness — they are all that makes me, me, all that makes me human. The only reason I see them as a “chink” in my armour is because I was foolish enough to believe I have armour. And so I feel — with no escape.

And isn’t that what COVID-19 seems to be saying? “You’re just human, just a being co-existing on this planet, a teeny-vulnerable-life-form. You think and so you are fat and beautiful and smart and weak and all of these attributes you use to differentiate yourself and make yourself better or worse — but in the grand scheme of things — you breathe, you poop, you die, you decompose. So, get real, boo, and hey, ‘BOO!’”

*Quote by Norman Schwarzkopf