Relationships before work; the new normal?

I saw my Grandson today and had a great virtual catch up. He like to sing bits of songs now so we can join in. Three craws, the current one. So as we know in Scotland, Thursday is the big day. It’s the day that we know if the numbers are still  going down and we get let out of lockdown, cautiously and we get to meet in person.  So those numbers are crucial. If I hear you’ve all been down the beach at Porty or been to ‘big Isa’s’ caravan* and the numbers have gone up I will not be happy! 

But if we’ve all been following guidelines then I get to see my family this weekend. Sadly not all together but I will take what I can! We will have to avoid our Grandsons full on mouth kisses but if I can just see his smile, smell his hair as he rushes bye I will be happy. I want to see how his Mum and Dad are fairing too! Working and full time parenting a cheeky nearly two year old is seriously difficult. But for him having his Mum and Dad all round the clock has been a gift.

Our daughters smile lights up rooms and to see her close by will lift my spirits. She’s worked hard throughout. Molly, her Jack Russel,has loved her though it. In terms of my life not much else changes. But that’s ok for now.

As lockdown eases I’m hearing of the people who have been doing the couch to10k and the difference it’s made. I’m delighted for them, honestly. There’s been the keep fit with the kids, yoga to start or end the day. I’ve watched this with such sadness too.

I used to love to jog, do yoga at times but mostly walk, especially with all dogs who have kept me company, over the years.  I’ve so many memories I can draw on. But to be honest it’s so infuriating that nobody thinks; what could we do for the disabled community. Consider that maybe they get a bit pissed off we rarely see programmes aimed at our wellbeing? The answer is you bet we do! 

I’ve lost strength during the lockdown. The main exercise that helps me ( and many others as it as the water protects from pain) is in water. Hydrotherapy was stopped at lockdown and my local pool is closed. 

Why not open local pools for only disabled people?

Some early work has shown that the lockdown has seriously affected the mental and physical wellbeing of people who are disabled and those who are shielding. We need to think about this for people. Many of us will feel anxious still about the virus. I know I’ve lost confidence outside the house. My mood has been affected and that makes this all worse. I’m sharing this not to look for sympathy, it’s really to look for equality. It’s probably too late for this lockdown but the chances are another may follow and some thoughts about the needs of proactive support for those with disabilities of all varieties would be welcome. 

Paradoxically I find I’m anxious about things changing too. Reflecting on this I think I want to protect having more time. I’m inclined to keep busy, often with friends and family but also with work and this can fill life with so much that I become exhausted and I’ve not time just to ‘be’. 

Maybe that’s the biggest thing lockdown has given some people is time just to be. Who wants to go back to a world of commuting, of constant travel,of being away from home. Suddenly some people at least have had time to spend with family they only have in holidays. In Japan with lockdown, the Suicide rate has reduced 20 % as they been able to work from home and be part of their families and communities. It’s a simpler, more authentic life. Where relationships count above work.

One of the things I’ve noticed is that the time togther has really made Andrew I closer, in our protected wee bubble. I really don’t want to lose that, we’re so fortunate and rich in the things that matter. I wish you and yours a safe ease out of lockdown

* Reference to Janet Godleys daily briefing voice overs. The language is juicey but it’s a good laugh in dark times! 

The week we cried

At first we locked down

With anxious giggles,

With anxious shrugs,

With cautious sighs,

We closed the door.

What can we do?

We weren’t sure.

Shopping, no not us.

We started the online search.

A sudden realisation, this was difficult.

We zoomed.

We Housepartyed.

We FaceTimed.

It was fun,

in its difference.

A family quizz,happy until the connections cut

We shared jokes,

Endlessly.

Have you seen this one?

We laughed.

This strange time,

soothed by one shared joke.

Then we shared the articles,

critical of government.

The numbers of deaths increased.

We watched the endless updates.

We held our breath on lockdown decisions,

beyond our control.

We shared music created in rooms apart.

Dancers weaving their spell just for us,

alone in our homes.

The sun shone as if to mess with us,

gardens tended and

parks never so enticing.

But this week, this was the week we cried.

For our own losses,

For the losses announced each day,

For the deaths alone with strangers, 

For the care homes, oh yes the care homes

that collective grief unbearable to witness.

This was the week we cried for ourselves

Alone, socially isolating in our grief.

Disconnected,

yearning for connection.

The week we cried.

So there IS such a thing as society...change starts there.

The Boy Mole Fox and the Horse
Charlie Mackesy

At heart I’m an optimist . I can usually see an upside. In recent years as well I’ve been practicing mindfulness and I do feel gratitude for all I have. And by that I don’t mean stuff, I mean people, I mean love and kindness, I mean all the things money can’t buy. But it’s also having enough to get by, to buy food and wine, to pay bills, to pay for Netflix,WiFi. I’m a struggling optimist this last couple of weeks. I can’t see the upside of this virus and worry about how it will affect us long term. I value not having to rush around and to have time to read and be mindful but in some ways it feels like the eye of the storm. We’re protected from the pain and suffering of others and maybe I’m struggling with survivor guilt in a way?

I’m very aware daily of my privilege. I’m comfortable, I have a house, a garden, great support from my husband and I’m able to do things to keep me engaged and feel useful. But I’m fearful for those whose own lives have been devastated by this virus, for those whose hopes have been washed away, and those who were already struggling with a vicious benefits system. This virus is like no other we have experienced and it’s not only taking lives, it’s changing lives. I do believe some of the changes will be for the better but we have to recognise it’s going to be different. And unless we do something there is a real risk those who are struggling will be left to carry the pain and injustice.

 I suspect what makes me most fearful is that I just can’t trust the Westminster government and it’s behaviour around this our greatest health challenge in one hundred years. I don’t know what is true or what is spin. It’s scary. Our own government in Scotland by contrast is working hard to be transparent, open and honest about what is happening and also about the future. But there remains the interdependence with all of the UK so the complete path is not all ours to navigate. 

Nicola Sturgeon spoke of the new normal and like many I would like that to be kinder with more connected communities. I think we need universal basic services as well as income to take away the social, health and economic impacts of poverty on people and communities. This experience is a confirmation that there is such a thing as society and healthier and happier nations have to start from there.

 So Thatcher was very wrong about there is no such thing as society and neoliberalism has also been shown to fail spectacularly, especially here in the UK with our shocking inequality.  Our new normal should not and cannot be a tweak of the old one but an opportunity to harness the spirit of kindness and connection and build a new country to be proud of. All change starts from communities so like everything, it starts with ourselves. And this time we really need to step up. 

Unlocked

Unlocked

Dropped off with  mobility scooter

 doors opened for me

in the corridor of muted colours,

my guide.

Masks or smiles,

distorted greetings.

Hand gel and thermometers,

lift doors open

to another empty temple.

An echo of a staged performance

without the audience

I settle in a chair.

I’m linked to a drip.

More bloods are taken.

I wait.

I know now how to wait:

the watcher from the chair

A stream of nurses pass to stock trolleys,

with a strange dearth of patients.

I try to disengage from the

grip of anxiety low in my stomach.

I read a book whose title I’ve forgotten.

I text family to reassure them.

I want it to be over.

Finally it is.

I leave in a flourish of hand gel.

Should I have gone? 

For an infusion to prevent cancer?

A hospital visit my only contact with the outside.

My lockdown release,

an incalculable risk benefit

Then I notice the wind in my hair,

the on my face.

Odd glimpses into others lives,

Small boys learning cricket with Dads.

Blossom bursting from colourful gardens.

Kindness from passerby’s,

smiles as we weave a safe path

The Castle in the distance settles me.

It has seen so much.

This too will pass.

I turn into our drive way.

The evening sun calls to us,

‘Join me’ 

So we do.  

Unlocked

Unlocked

Dropped off with  mobility scooter

 doors opened for me

in the corridor of muted colours,

my guide.

Masks or smiles,

distorted greetings.

Hand gel and thermometers,

lift doors open

to another empty temple.

An echo of a staged performance

without the audience

I settle in a chair.

I’m linked to a drip.

More bloods are taken.

I wait.

I know now how to wait:

the watcher from the chair

A stream of nurses pass to stock trolleys,

with a strange dearth of patients.

I try to disengage from the

grip of anxiety low in my stomach.

I read a book whose title I’ve forgotten.

I text family to reassure them.

I want it to be over.

Finally it is.

I leave in a flourish of hand gel.

Should I have gone? 

For an infusion to prevent cancer?

A hospital visit my only contact with the outside.

My lockdown release,

an incalculable risk benefit

Then I notice the wind in my hair,

the on my face.

Odd glimpses into others lives,

Small boys learning cricket with Dads.

Blossom bursting from colourful gardens.

Kindness from passerby’s,

smiles as we weave a safe path

The Castle in the distance settles me.

It has seen so much.

This too will pass.

I turn into our drive way.

The evening sun calls to us,

‘Join me’ 

So we do.  

Impossibly normal, lockdown times

I’ve been writing so many things in my head. Letters to MPs, blogs, book.......But they’ve not arrived on a page until now. I was away for a week and in that time the world, or our world especially was shifting on an axis of fear and preparation. We were in a forest, surrounded by mountains which added to the disconnect between what was real and well-what was also real. My achievement that week was not, sadly, to gain access to the beauties of our surroundings. My mobility scooter is not able to go far in these settings. But I did manage in the hot tub with the aid of a hoist. Bliss. I managed to trust the hoist and the people controlling it to do it twice. We  could see the Loch (Long) recently emerged from its grey, rain fuelled presence to one of sparkling hope. And yet the the snow still defined the tops of the mountains and for that time all seemed impossibly normal.

But our daily fervent study of the news led us to finally accept that we were headed home to lockdown. We even shopped that day. But as I arrived home I had to shiver under several blankets to get warm. It’s just stress and exhaustion with travel I told myself. But when it happened during the night again I realised it was more. I ached and shivered and felt rotten. The cough arrived a few days later and because of asthma I called 111. I got an antibiotic to cover for secondary  infection and told to act as if this was coronavirus. It was then the headache started. Five days later I needed migraine treatment after vomiting and a headache like none I remembered ( I had monthly migraine for 40 years) and things started to improve. I’m breathless still at times but my cough is better. And finally it’s passed leaving me with loss of my taste for coffee and a loss of enjoyment ( taste again I think) for wine. Oh come on that’s just the final straw! No else has had it so I don’t know if it was the virus but it had an impact. I look back on the days my temperature was raised with the fear; a sort of bodily angst. And we’re locked down with our children firmly reminding us of the limits of that. 

I’ve been Housepartying and Zooming like us all but I long for a hug from my family. To take in their familiar smell and feel my body just relax into their presence. I miss my grandsons ready smile, the hugs, high fives and kisses. But we both want to be here when all this improves and so we comply and take each day at a time. 

I remain on cancer treatment and go next week for a preventive infusion for my bones so life goes on in the cancer world too. I guess I’m used to living with a life threatening condition and finding the energy and motivation to just keep going. So there’s part of me that knows this uncertainty of living with the threat of a potentially fatal illness and an even bigger part of me that thinks ‘f***’ you Covid-19, I’ve not gone through all I have to let you get me now!!! 

Like so many of us, I’ve wondered about what will change ( that’s another blog coming soon I hope) and I do know we need to use our agency to enable change not just wait and hope. But I observe with concern that so many are working under huge pressure, simply replacing old patterns with the online version. 

Please STOP going from one zoom meeting to another. Pace yourselves, this is a marathon you need to behave differently for. Online takes a different kind of concentration and long meetings will have adverse effects and be ineffective. Take time to reflect. This crisis has allowed you to change something quickly, what else might service you better? This is a crisis we are living through. As the police chief here said this is a national emergency not a national holiday. We are living with this stress and can’t just ignore the impact on us.

So my final tip is around self care. In a crisis our parasympathetic nervous system comes in to play; our fight flight and we need to manage that. Finding strategies that help you unwind and settle those nerves is crucial just now. Now it might be mindfulness or praying mediations, or music and relaxation, yoga and so on. And it can also be jigsaws, crafting, practical projects, simply breathing ( try the Breathing app, it’s simple and effective), writing, painting, reading those books you’ve always wanted to.....the list is endless all you need to do is make time for it. 

Sending a virtual hug and please stay at home to stay safe and be kind to yourselves. 

When I get older....be kind?

I’ve been talking about age this week with friends. I don’t feel like I’m older in my head. Maybe thirty five would be my ideal age although I’d settle for fifty to be honest. Of course I’ve lost wellbeing in recent years and mobility but the thing I miss most is the energy. I’ve enjoyed having the energy to do lots in the past and I had most vitality when I did some running, only 10k level but I had a spring in my step and loved it. Oh to bring that back. 

Another reminder of age was when I was signing into a new account recently and had to scroll down the range of adult age groups before I found mine in the 1950s. That was sobering. I was scared to look at how much longer it goes on! As we recently mused over the decades passed we were also talking about our favourite piece of classic clothing. Mine was definitely my afghan coat that stunk and wasn’t especially helpful at keeping me warm. There were no buttons or hooks merely a clutch of fingers, as I tripped over my skirt several inches too long and my hair down past my waist flew around my eyes, I was truly a sight to behold. If there were also clogs over the cobbles added to the mix, I wonder that I managed to get anywhere! I think that coat finally stood up and left home. We didn’t miss each by that stage.

Another reminder of age has been all the talk of Coronavirus. When there was discussion that perhaps retired nurses and medics could come back to support the NHS during a pandemic my first thought was oh, I will volunteer. And then I looked down and thought, maybe not. But the old instincts remain. And sadly I’m reminded I’m the burden not the solution.

I can’t be alone in getting just a bit cheesed off when deaths from the virus are announced, we are reassured they are from the at risk groups. Older people, those with underlying health issues are a lesser loss they seem to say. The reassurance to the wider population has the impact of implying our deaths don’t count. Hello there, I’m still working ( and you won’t give me my pension for several years). I’m active in community and with my family and friends. I can offer support to others, not physically ( although I’m always good for a hug) but in every other way. Every person written off is someone’s mother, friend, sister, father, grandfather........you get my message.we all count, we all deserve to be grieved for, we all contribute however small as we shrink into older age.  The advice for a being with at risks groups surely is to remind us of their vulnerability and to encourage preventive matters. 

Of course the paradox for me is that self isolation might be wise, whilst knowing that what keeps me emotionally well is interaction with people and especially family and good friends. The times i forget about pain are when I’m immersed in time with those I love and I won’t be alone in this. 

Already psychologists are writing about the risks of social isolation as we try to contain the virus.

We are complex beings who are wired for connection. As we approach this virus, let’s also remind ourselves of kindness and the difference it makes. 

Go well....

    

                                                                           Kindness by Naomi Shihab NYE