Coping | Breaking Free

I have begun to long for home. By “home” I don’t mean my family or friends—who I wouldn’t be able to visit anyway—but my bed. For some reason, it symbolizes all that is familiar and safe and comfortable.

Not that I’m not safe and comfortable. In Scotland, at Lynn’s, I am more safe and comfortable than 95% of the world’s population. I have a spacious room with my own bathroom. There’s a library full of books. There is even a sauna! There is plenty of space for us to do our own thing. We come together at mealtimes or for a G&T on the patio or to watch a movie at night.

I have projects, like scraping and repainting a wrought-iron patio set. The more I scrape and paint, the more flakes of paint I discover. It’s a great way to kill the hours and medicate my obsessive compulsive tendencies.

I clear dead stuff out of the garden. This involves sitting on a foam mat, reaching in to grab a handful of dry twigs or grass, and yanking them out. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Then I gather it all up—being careful not to snag myself on any rose thorns—cram them into a bucket and haul them to the brush pile for burning. It’s very satisfying. One morning this classic Led Zeppelin album cover popped into my mind:

Why not do what all those cleaver people on social media are doing, and recreate this with found materials? So here I am, looking just like the album cover except I have a wheelbarrow, and I’m wearing a lime-green jumper and pink sunglasses, and I do not have a beard.

It was good for a laugh for a few minutes.

I go for long walks. This is the Clashindarroch Forest, where I hiked for two hours the other day. Even though it hadn’t rained for an unseasonable 10 days, the mossy path was still so springy it was like walking on a memory foam mattress.

—

So physically and socially I couldn’t be in a better place. But I think the pandemic and lockdown are taking a low-grade toll on my psyche. It’s subtle, but it’s probably cumulative. If I am feeling it, how much worse must it be for people living in precarious situations with no financial means, no internet, or no access to nature?

—

There are nagging worries, as there always are in life. I haven’t received my stimulus payment from Donald Trump yet due to an Internal Revenue Service foul up. I’m not too worried about it, yet.

It’s been a month since I tried to get cash from two cash machines in Oxford and was given the message, “We’re sorry but we cannot process your request at this time.” But they had processed it on their end, so I am out $260 until it gets resolved. I’m not too worried about it, yet.

This quote from the New York Times sums up my situation:

“Those who had assumed they could stay overseas, and wait for the pandemic to ebb, now face an unnerving choice: Either stick it out, and prepare for the possibility they will be infected with the virus and treated in foreign hospitals, or chance catching it on the way back home.”

I thought I had secured a small victory when I got through to Delta and re-booked my return flight from one stopover to as direct. One less airport, one less plane—this could reduce my risk. Then I got an email from the US State Department informing me that only three airlines are still flying from the UK to the US, and Delta is not one of them. So another call to an 800 number is in my future.

—

In the before times, I worked two part-time gigs and had a to-do list with 17 items on it every day. Now I feel like I am wading through thigh-deep pudding. I feel victorious if I manage to remember why I came into a room. This must be what dementia is like. Or maybe I am getting dementia, coincidentally at the same time as a global pandemic.

I hope you are well!

Today is the 14^th day of the UK’s three-week lockdown. There’s been no indication of if the measures will really be reversed, or how.

Most people I know think the lockdown will be extended. A couple think it’ll all be over in a few weeks. I tend to agree with the majority.

For now, it will take mental, emotional, and physical discipline to get through this time.

Mental, because without outside stimulus the brain quickly becomes disoriented. What day is it? Who am I? What was I going to do? This is very common among elderly people who are moved to care homes where there is nothing to do. Now we’re all fighting in it together.

Strategies that have helped me:

Making a to-do list. I write it on a post-it note, so it’s not a long list. But if I don’t write things down I forget them.

Talking to at least two friends or family members a day. Not messaging, talking. There is something about hearing the human voice that makes it more intimate.

Limiting news and social media: I scan the news headlines each morning and limit myself to reading 1-2 articles. I have to admit; checking the daily “scoreboard” of how many cases and deaths have been recorded in every country is a fascination to me.

I read an article, “What you should know before you need a ventilator.” I read it because it was in the New York Times and written by a doctor. I should have known better. Do Not read it.

I turn off my laptop and switch my cell to silent, then do something mentally absorbing, like crossword puzzles. I brought this pile with me from home, threw them in the recycling bin when I hadn’t looked at them after a month, then frantically dug them out of the bin when the lockdown was announced. Whew!

Baking is mentally absorbing, especially for me because the measures are different here. You measure things by weight in grams and in millilitres, not cups.

My first attempt was tapenade-filled yeast rolls. They didn’t look great but they tasted wonderful.

As a bonus, I use the weights holder, which totals about five pounds, to workout. Normally I would do shoulder presses with about 15 pound dumbbells. Now I just do a ton of reps.

The highlight of my day is getting outside for a walk, rain or shine. Even passing strangers at a two-metre distance somehow helps me to know I still exist and to believe we will all be together again eventually. This was the last meal I had in a pub, a fish pie at The Head of the River.

This was my dinner a few nights ago.

I do cook fresh, but in times like these, crisps are also called for, especially when watching the Downing Street Daily Briefing.

—

I am so lucky to be in a British beauty spot. I live a few blocks from the Thames, which has a wide path along it that—if I only had a bike!—I could follow all the way from London to a place called Kemble. The water has turned a lovely green. Is this because there is less effluent being dumped into it, and less boat traffic?

Those are garden allotments on the opposite side. People who have allotments are allowed to go dig around in them. Sigh.

In addition to walking and weight training I am taking yoga classes on Zoom twice a week. It is hilarious to see people’s cats standing on their backs and toddlers imitating their mothers’ downward dogs.

Emotionally, all of the above helps—staying connected and not overdoing the news or social media. Also, not fighting battles unless I have the strength. For instance, I have been trying to get through to Expedia for three weeks. Two days ago I was on hold for two hours and had to give up. There will be some sort of reckoning for Expedia and other companies that have so massively failed. I realize the times are “unprecedented” as we hear over and over, but still.