Eight weeks in and the novelty of lockdown has well and truly worn off. Acclimatised to my new work environment, the slightly nervous sense of anticipation I felt when first ensconced in my temporary office, has passed.
My new workplace isn’t somewhere I would have spent much time before, so initially I took some pleasure in discovering previously unnoticed cobwebs revealed by the sunlight shining through the rooflights as it tracked across the sky during the course of the day. The sunlight that also illuminates the delicate pale green and fuschia petals, and casts shadows on the thick green leaves of the orchid my daughter gave me for Mother’s Day – the last time I saw her in person.
But, that interest is waning. In part due to the manic cleaning session around week four or five which removed the cobwebs, but also because, like many parents with older children living away from home, the desire to see my daughter and give her a big hug has become palpably painful.
The delight experienced at the return of my ‘prodigal’ son at the start of lockdown, the renewed disruption to the household and sound of bickering between him and his truculent 14 year old sister, is once again the norm and something that goes almost unnoticed until the teased-out squeals turn to irritated rebukes.
As the weeks slip by, the nervous anticipation is replaced by a general air of indolence. Almost imperceptibly, a lethargy has settled on our household like dust on a seldom played piano.
The new way of working from home, whilst manageable, is undeniably isolating. Sure you can have face-to-face meetings in Teams or socials on Zoom, but in between some things are simply getting lost down the side of the sofa cushions.
The 14 year-old daughter, whose early enthusiasm was fueled by not having to go to school, and thinking the whole situation was an excuse to spend hours trawling the internet for a new quarantine outfit – I kid you not! – is now desperately missing school and wouldn’t care if she never got out of her pyjamas.
I now long to see her exhibit the same passion she had at the prospect of a coronavirus wardrobe for anything at all. Instead, I find myself watching her drift into a state of listlessness. As an active team sport player and one in an academic year group unlikely to return to school before September, I am increasingly concerned about the long-term effect this will have on her.
The end in sight
Perhaps naively, I expected the relaxation of the restrictions would make me feel better, that the end would come into focus. But it hasn’t. In fact it has had the opposite effect. I feel more anxious as it brings with it the dawning realisation that the end seems even more blurred and things will not be the same for a significant amount of time yet – if ever. And, as my older daughter this week returned to the garden center where she works, the necessity for strict social distancing as a result means it will be even longer before I’ll be able to give her the hug I so desperately need.
Although we sleep-walked with relative ease into the lockdown, waking from the stupor it has brought on unfortunately isn’t going to be the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale we hope for.
If this is indeed the new normal for the foreseeable future, I know I need to snap out of the daze, shake off the inertia, and change my mindset. And that’s not going to be easily done by another virtual quiz, or 6 more episodes of ‘Community’.
So, as a start this week I have signed up for Resilience Training that RPMI are providing for employees, and trying to set daily challenges for my family to bring some much needed energy back into the house. I try to remind myself too of the connection I have to my work and colleagues through our common purpose - all the more important as we navigate the uncertainty of our new lives.
I guess we’re all bound to have good and bad weeks, and the enforced isolation might lead one to think that you’re alone in feeling the way you do. But if, like me, you’re struggling to get your head round the long view, you’re not alone. And I’m certain I’m not alone in doubting (as much as I’d love to believe it were that simple) that bedding plants are going to save the economy!
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