Tonight, I am contemplating — somewhat anxiously — what tomorrow will bring. That’s fairly standard territory the night before returning to school for a new term, but right now it’s even more complicated than usual.
Phrases like “back into routine” and “good to keep busy” have been bandied about altogether too casually by people who don’t understand how I feel. In one sense, things may seem as though they are “returning to normal”, but I don’t feel that way at all. Instead, it feels very much like I’m stepping into the vast unknown.
The world out there is anything but normal.
The state in which I live ihas been cut off from the rest of the country by border restrictions because of the COVID-19 outbreak in Melbourne. We’ve all been quarantined to an extent, and Melbourne itself is locked down much tighter than we are out here in the western region of the state.
The distance between us and Melbourne is no room for complacency, though. Just today we heard the news that Warrnambool, the regional city in which I work, has reported its first active case in months. It’s sobering news, and terrible timing for the beginning of a new school term. Honestly, it just adds a greater sense of impending doom to the craziness that is going on out there.
I’m keen to see my students, though. My hope is that they will take my mind off things through each school day and keep me motivated when I’m feeling low.
So, I’ve invested in masks and extra sanitiser. I even have sprays to disinfect any work the kids hand in. I will be even more conscientious and deliberate about social distancing, because I don’t trust other people to do the right things. At least my natural cynicism about human nature is intac which, I suppose, is something.
Life isn’t ‘normal’ on a personal level either.
I miss Dad. I miss Helen. Enormously.
I have lost two of the constant, consistent encouragers in my life. I keep thinking of things I want to tell them, and photos I want to show them, and I can’t. I want them to know about my new great-nephew. I want to tell them I love them. It’s really, really hard.
I’m trying to work through my grief, but that isn’t going to happen according to any timetable. That’s a process that will take as much time as it will take.
The past three weeks have changed me, although I can’t define exactly how.
I feel like I should be more resilient, or better at handling things, or at least better at faking an appearance of being able to manage, but I’m not.
I feel like I should look different somehow, but I probably don’t.
That is, of course, if you don’t look too closely at the dark circles under my eyes. Sleep has been evasive ever since Dad was admitted to hospital with coronary issues on June 16. During the week in which both he and Helen passed away, I barely slept at all. Last night I managed seven hours, but it was in two instalments with an hour off at half time. It’s no wonder I feel like rubbish.
My purpose in expressing my thoughts and feelings here is not to moan or whine. I know I am not the only person experiencing these things. I am not the only person experiencing grief, or lugging emotional baggage everywhere.
I want others in similar situations to understand that there is nothing wrong with feeling the way they do. All of this is part of the grieving process, and it’s crucial to be kind and patient with ourselves while we sort our various burdens out.
I want other people to understand that they can’t expect people who are grieving, or anxious, or caring any other kind of burden for that matter, to feel a certain way or simply “get over things” in any set period of time.
Grief is not a tidy and well-organised domain. Everyone experiences it differently. It brings with it a whole variety of secondary emotions that are unpredictable at best. Denying it, suppressing it, or trying to make our grief fit preconceived expectations are futile and unhealthy ways of dealing with it.
That means each of us has to deal with it in our own time, and each of us can expect to be as messy as our grief. Each of us will, at some point, have to step out into a world that has changed significantly and irreversibly.
Acceptance, kindness, patience and self-care will help to make that a healthier process for everyone.
Stepping Back Into A Changed World #grief #emotions #anxiety #personal #blogpost
Yesterday a friend posted on Facebook that living in quarantine conditions “turns people into a**holes”.
My response was that this was true, but only for those already so inclined.
Thinking more about it since then, I have come to the conclusion that this extended quarantine/lockdown is proving to be an intensifier. It brings out the true colours that underlie each person’s character and makes them more evident.
Those who are inclined to be selfish have been increasingly inconsiderate of others. Those who sulk at not getting their own way have done exactly that, usually all over social media. Those who tend to be angry have been. Those who tend to resist being told what to do have defied the rules and done as they pleased.
On the other hand, we have also seen plenty of evidence that recent adversity has brought out the best of humanity, too.
Those who tend to be generous have definitely been so. Those who advocate for the underprivileged have done so relentlessly. Those who are kind and thoughtful have shown more kindness and thoughtfulness, often to the very great surprise and gratitude of others. The levels of commitment, giving, service and going the extra mile have been inspiring.
What we are seeing is more of each person’s true colours.
It’s also becoming evident that we will see even more of the same while social restrictions and slowed economies continue.
It is important to understand this because we should not be making excuses for anyone’s bad behaviour. We should not be dismissing things we would not normally accept or shrug off. And we certainly shouldn’t respond to appalling behaviour by explaining it away with lines like “they are under pressure”.
All that does is enable people to continue being nasty, with little fear of consequences for their words and actions.
We are all under pressure. Many of us are struggling one way or another. We are all missing people, places and things we love. We’re just not all being horrible about it.
Quarantine: Bringing Out the Best And Worst In People #QuarantineLife #LOCKDOWN2020 #COVIDー19 #Personality #behavior #blogpost
I’ve ventured beyond the local supermarket, pharmacy and supermarkets once since isolation started. Last week, though, the time came when things had to be done, so I planned where I had to go, loaded up with sanitiser and prepared to social distance my way through town.
And, sure enough, that person I would be happy to never see again walked past me in two different places that I had to visit.
I saw them, but pretended I didn’t. All those years of experience as an actor paid off yet again. They looked at me, and I looked right through them like they weren’t there.
The first time I thought it was a fluke. The second time, I wondered.
My skin crawling and my stomach roiling, all the while reassuring myself that it was just coincidence and doubting that at the same time, I completed the rest of my essential errands looking over my shoulder, and then got out of dodge as soon as I could.
I would like to think it won’t always be that way, but I guess there are some things you can’t sanitise. Trauma will do that.
Staying out of town definitely has an upside.
I am safe at home, in more ways than one. I don’t have to watch my back, and I don’t have to worry about who is going to walk around the corner or show up in the supermarket aisle.
I know that I won’t have that luxury forever but, while I can, I’m staying home.
The Upside of Isolation #isolation #IsolationLife #IsolationStories #StayingSafe #StayHome #SaferAtHome
Anyone who knows me will affirm that I tend to say what’s on my mind, although I try to think before I speak and to be more tactful than I used to be.
My mother used to remark to me that I had “a neat turn of phrase”, and would occasionally comment to others that I didn’t mince my words. I always took the first observation as a compliment, although I’m not sure it was ever really meant that way. The second, though, always seemed to be rather a strange image because it made me think of minced meat or minced fruit.
Of course, “mince” is one of those words that has multiple meanings. It can mean to chop or grind something into very small pieces. It can mean to walk in small, affected, or dainty, steps. And, when it comes to words, it can mean to modify your language so as to not cause offence.
All of those meanings relate to the idea of making something smaller or diminishing in size. It’s easy to see how ‘mince’ is related to other words such as diminish, miniature, minute, and minimise.
The use of ‘mincing words’ to mean making them softer or more moderate goes as far back as the 1500s, and is a term used by Shakespeare himself.
To mince one’s words means to speak in an indirect or perhaps a diplomatic way rather than stating something directly or bluntly. To do so is to make what you say less of a stumbling block, easier to move past or step over, or even easier to digest.
Thus, to not mince one’s words means to speak without worrying about how the listener will feel or respond.
Well, okay. That might sound a little like me. Sometimes.
That has changed, though, as I have got a little older.
If I am at home, or comfortable with the company I am in, I still tend to express my thoughts freely. Elsewhere, though, I feel as though I do not feel that freedom. And there are many occasions on which I simply couldn’t be bothered. One cannot, as the saying goes, fix stupid.
These days, I often choose to simply remain silent when someone says or does something ridiculous, because there is no polite way to say what I am thinking. Thirty years’ experience as a teacher and a fair few years as an actor and performer have helped me refine my ability to keep my facial expression neutral, although I will admit that sometimes I just don’t bother. Some people should be thankful that the look on my face is all they get.
So, it seems I do sometimes mince my words. On other occasions, I mince them between my teeth and swallow them.
Mincing Your Words. #speaking #words #choosewisely #EnglishAtHome #EnglishTeacher
In response to the growing panic about the spread of the new corona virus COVID 19, it seems many Australians have decided to stock up on the essentials in case they get quarantined.
I could understand it if they were rushing the stores for tissues, paper towels, hand sanitiser and soap. Maybe even some cleaning products might be a good idea. But they’re not.
It seems the thing people fear running out of the most is toilet paper.
Social media and the news is full of reports and images of empty shelves where all the toilet paper was stacked.
It seems to me that these people have got their priorities wrong. It’s not Ebola, for crying out loud. Even if they did get the virus, they probably wouldn’t be needing any more toilet paper than usual.
Do they actually know anything about this virus and its symptoms? It causes respiratory illness. It makes people feel like they have a nasty cold or flu. They’re going to be blowing their noses and coughing.
That kind of lack of attention to detail will cause far more problems than not having 124 rolls of loo paper in the cupboard.
People need to stop and think before joining the panic. Supermarkets do home delivery every day of the week in Australia. If someone is quarantined, they’ll just drop off the delivery at the front door and leave without seeing or talking to anyone.
And if there is any toilet paper actually left in the stores, I’m sure they’ll deliver that, too.
I wrote the poem titled ‘Superficial’ two years ago.
I remember feeling both hurt and angry, but mostly just plain tired of being made to feel as though I continually failed to reach the arbitrary standards expected of me by certain people.
This weekend, I have realised it is still far too relevant. It’s still just as true as when I wrote it.
You know, that’s just rubbish. It was rubbish then, and it’s rubbish now.
In fact, the only thing that has changed is how much I care — or actually don’t — about whether publishing it will confront the people who inspired it, and how they might respond to being called out.
The thing is, they should be called out. Their comfortable, conformist jusdgment is not okay. They don’t get to decide who is “worthy”. Their ideas of what is “acceptable” or “normal” are as subjective and as anyone else’s.
I am who I am.
I matter, and so do my feelings. I am enough.
And I deserve to be treated with respect, whether they like me or not..
Too bright, too individual, too funky, Too wild, too unafraid, too chunky, Too short, too loud, too bold, too dyed— When will you ever look inside? It’s so easy to label something as sin Ignoring the gems concealed within— Love, passion, talent, loyalty, art. Yet you say God looks at each person’s heart For faith, service, and integrity: Why can’t you look that way at me?
On the evening before school starts back for the year, I usually hit a patch of anxiety that keeps me awake into the wee hours of the morning.
Today, my brain has hit fast-forward and has dumped me in that patch just about as soon as I woke up.
I know it’s not logical. I know I am good at my job. I love my workplace, and a number of my colleagues are also my good friends. I love teaching. I’ve done my preparation.I know that I will go back tomorrow and everything will be okay.
Today, however, my brain is playing a different tune. I am plagued with anxiety and feelings of inadequacy. I am fearful of nothing in particular and everything in general. I know I can do it but I feel as though I can’t.
This is what happens when anxiety, introversion and impostor syndrome get together for a wild party: they don’t get messed up, I do.
What many people don’t realise is that many of their own kids’ teachers go through the same thing every year and every term. Some experience it much more frequently, even daily.
To look at them, especially at work in the classroom, you’d never know it. But it is real, and it is genuinely awful.
I don’t know what the solution is. The only thing I know how to do is hang in there, try to take care of myself, and keep going like I always do.
Yesterday I mentioned that I was not at all sorry to see the end of the year.
Still, I admit to feeling uncomfortable with the number of “new year, new me” posts on social media in the past 24 hours.
New year? Undoubtedly. New beginnings? Sure.
But I am not a “new me”. I am the same old me: the one who survived the trauma, grew stronger through it, and resolved to keep going. I am the me who worked hard for every one of my achievements: nobody else was ever going to do it for me. I am the me who stood tall in the face of false friends and two-faced people, and then walked away and slammed the door on them for good. I am the me who refused to be intimidated by those who don’t understand me… the me who will not be ashamed of who and what I am. I am the me who embraces creativity, individuality, and difference… and encourages others to do the same. I am the me who encourages young people to choose kindness and reject hate.
Those are all good things. Powerful things. Brave things. I have earned them, and I will own them.
I’m not perfect. I still have things to learn and growth to accomplish. But those who would prefer a different, more comfortable, easier-to-live-with me? They can go and boil their heads, because that’s not going to happen.