What can I say…lockdown has been a total rollercoaster. I’m not going to lie, some days it was brilliant. I was one of the many people who was furloughed, so suddenly I had all this time on my hands. The sun was shining, I was with the person I love, and we had all this time to do whatever we wanted, which turned out to be cooking and playing Crash Bandicoot. I would spend my days thinking about how I could utilise this time to really improve upon myself. I could take on the world, learn new skills, loose weight, try new recipes and new food, and basically overnight become the best version of myself *enter me in my best superhero pose*…
But then there was the other side of lockdown. The side which saw me not want to get out of the bed because, quite frankly, what was the point? What was the point in showering, brushing my hair, or getting dressed that day? It seemed an immense effort just to move from the bedroom to the tv room. One day, my Fitbit kindly told me that I had only taken 129 steps in the entire day, and folks I can confirm that those steps were purely made from walking between the sofa and the fridge. I was eating my feelings, drinking whenever I felt like it, and was constantly asking “what is the f*****g point?”. Lockdown didn’t allow me to become the best version of myself. Instead, it highlighted the worst features of myself that I had happily kept in the ‘denial’ part of my brain until then. I had nothing to do but focus on my flaws, my failings, the parts of my personality that I most disliked. It was in these moments that I would try to distract myself by scrolling aimlessly on the little devil we call Instagram.
All I could see were these perfect people acing their new fitness regimes, posing in their cute new sportswear, and seemingly getting through this lockdown with ease. They had started new hobbies, entered a new and exciting creative phase, and were using all their time so, so productively. Scrolling through these photos with crisp crumbs in my hair, I just felt angry and depressed. And I know, Instagram is just a highlight reel, and we shouldn’t compare our reality to these perfect snapshots. I know all this. Logically, I get it. But that didn’t change the fact that I felt like a failure looking at all of them. I felt bitter that I wasn’t able to do the same, that I just didn’t have it in me. And underneath the bitterness was the real feeling – jealously. I was jealous that they were doing everything I wanted to do, and being honest with myself about it just made it worse! The jealously was all down to me. I was the creator of my own misery. Did you feel the same?
I still feel it now. As lockdown begins to ease and people are getting on with their lives, I am still jealous that my life is turning out so differently than I had planned. I am not getting back to work. I am not getting away finally for my holiday. I am just sitting in my packed up flat, which echoes with its emptiness, trying to find a job. But I am actively trying to change my thinking. I am trying desperately to turn these negatives into positives, turn my jealousy into inspiration, as really, despite all the s**t, I am still one of the lucky ones. So I want to find my own productive avenue to follow. Maybe it’s this blog. Maybe it will be something entirely different. I guess we will have to wait and see. As my mum often tells me, everything happens for a reason. I have no clue what that reason is right now, but hopefully it will all be worth it in the end.