Corona Diaries

Melanie “I have only cried once in the last seven days and I’ve managed to have several alcohol-free days”.

Background information Female, Aged 34-44, Freelance Writer, From England, Christian, White, Married with Three Children Aged 19, 11 and 8

March 23rd – Week 1

We’re a week into being at home, just the four of us (I tried to persuade the 18yo to come back from uni,

but she’s on a nursery placement and was needed) and I’ve learnt a lot this week about what helps me stay

sane, and what helps my family. I thought that as many of you might be about to embark on the same –

and for how long who knows – that it might be helpful for me to write up some of the things I’ve learnt…

1) Deep breathing is your friend. Sounds simple doesn’t is? Just breathe. But it is something we easily

forget when we are feeling overwhelmed and anxious. Deeply breathe into the diaphragm – in for

four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four (there are other variations for this online, this one works

for me) This helps the part of your fight or flight system reset itself and tell your brain you are not in

immediate danger. You can do this anywhere, anytime. Standing, sitting, lying. Whilst you’re making

a cup of tea or are on the loo. Lower your shoulders and breathe deeply.

2) Try and keep to a routine. It’s very tempting to want to stay in your pyjamas all day because you

can, but if you usually got up at 7am and had a shower then do the same. If you used to run to and

from work go for a run around the block before you start work and when you finish. Have a proper

lunch break. Finish work at the same time you would normally. Keeping a routine helps us keep

some level of normality in our lives.

3) Get outside. I cannot repeat this enough. Do some deep breathing outside = even better. Social

distancing still applies here, but you can go for a walk or a run or a bike ride and steer well clear of

anyone else. If you have a garden get in it. If you don’t open a window and lean out and feel the sun

(if it’s out!) on your face. My eleven year old and I are starting couch to 5K today. Do whatever you

can manage, but try and get outside at least once a day.

4) Restrict access to the news. It is very easy to go down a rabbit hole of doom and need to check

every update, every breaking development, but it is not healthy. A lot of what is happening is out of

our control, which can be extremely anxiety inducing. Limit your access to news to maybe once a

day. I’ve deleted Twitter and Facebook from my phone as well as the news apps and it has been life

changing. No I am not in denial, I am just confident that if I need to know something, I’ll find it out.

5) Donate and do good where you can. I’m supporting the local food bank, as well as a local hospital’s

staff in their ICU department by donating much needed toiletries. I’ve ordered goods from friends

who run their own businesses and tried to champion fellow authors etc. online. It helps me feel like I

am doing something to help even though I am stuck at home. And that I’m not powerless.

6) Be kind to each other. We’re all a bit overwhelmed by this and not sure how to behave. I’ve learnt to

have a bit more tolerant this week for my husband who has been working 24/7 to keep his job.

When we first went into isolation I resented that I was the one home educating, and cooking, and

doing all the boys’ physio and medicine etc. etc. whilst still working myself. But he’s also playing a

vital role in keeping us safe, and if that means he can’t help out practically then so be it.

7) Take the pressure off. We are not all teachers. We do not need to recreate school at home. Our

children (I’m talking primary level here as that’s how old mine are, I appreciate it’s different for

secondary school aged children) do not need to have daily algebra lessons or spend hours learning

about fronted sodding adverbials. Bake. Garden. Create. Watch films together. Go for walks. Play

board games. Give them screen time. Whatever. Yes keeping to a routine and yes if they want to

learn something more formal then go for it, but don’t set expectations for homeschooling that no one

is going to meet. If you want some inspiration I’m posting on Instagram what we’re doing most days.

I’m very lucky to have been a primary school teacher for fifteen years, but that doesn’t mean I find

this homeschooling malarkey easy. I’m just being guided by my children and am trying to find ways

of teaching them through what they are interested in. If you would find a blog post on ideas helpful

then please comment below.

8) Have virtual get-togethers. Grab a drink, get some snacks, heck put your make up on and a fancy

outfit and then FaceTime, or Whatsapp, or Zoom and get together. Social contact is so important

and I miss my friends. And it’s the same for my children – my eleven year old is currently enjoying a

group FaceTime with his peers who are also off school at the moment. They’re talking nonsense,

but it is so lovely to hear them laugh and see each other’s faces!

9) Take time out for yourself. If you can (I know not everyone can) but have a bath, read a book, go for

a walk. I crave time on my own and if I don’t have it I can easily feel overwhelmed. Yesterday I went

into another room and read a book for half an hour and it was enough.

10) Keep a gratitude diary. I’ve been doing this religiously since this shitty virus came into circulation.

And I have got a lot more to be grateful for than I realised. It’s helping put things into perspective

and is taking the momentous fear away. I am so lucky in so many ways and instead of spiraling into

fear and anxiety (which over the past week, I have done many a time let me tell you) I now sit back

and say what is good about this situation and find the positives. There are some, I promise.

11) Have a look at all the positives that are happening in response to this. How people are pulling

together. That the internet is full of wonderful people offering support for free. Free yoga, crafts,

films, plays, lessons and so much more. And then look at Venice and that dolphins and swans are

coming back as pollution is less. And the air over China is clearer than it has been in decades.

Mother Nature is benefitting from this hugely.

All I can say is that over the past seven days there have been ups and downs. Moments of sheer ‘holy fuck

I can’t do this for weeks how will I cope what if my mum gets it and I can’t go and help her or my daughter’

etc. but now I actually feel very calm and very positive. I LOVE having my children here with me, I’m getting

to know them more, understand them more. Tomorrow night my husband and I are going on a date to a

fancy restaurant (the kitchen) and then to the cinema (the lounge.)

It is going to be okay. Take it one day at a time, one hour at a time if you need to. No ‘what ifs,’ just facts

about the here and now.

This too shall undoubtedly pass.

Week 2

Hello again! How are you?

It’s fair to say week two in isolation hasn’t been as Mary Poppins-esq as week one, but I’ve still learnt a lot

and several people have asked for me to carry on writing these posts weekly pointing out, quite rightly, that

this helps me too.

Last week, I’m not ashamed to say, I was manic. I knew I was. I wanted to be everything to everyone – the

best mum, ‘I’ll worry so you don’t have to children,’ the best teacher, ‘I was a primary school teacher, I’ve

got this,’ the best wife, ‘Darling, it’s ok, you work work work, I’ll take care of everything else, ‘ the best cook,

‘ here have some nutritious goodness I have cooked from a mangle of shit in my freezer,’ the fittest person,

‘I will exercise every day, twice a day, I am an Olympian,’ the best friend, ‘are you okay, no I’m fine, what

about you, what do you need?’ And everything else… the list could go on, you get the picture. I knew I was

manic, but I didn’t care because I felt good.

Safe to say it was never going to last.

And this week, after a phone call from the hospital confirming that the boys were very high risk and we had

to stay at home for twelve weeks, I crashed. I wasn’t frustrated. I wasn’t angry. I was terrified. Most of the

time I can carry on as normal and to a certain degree forget that my children have a life-threatening rare

disease. But it’s at times like this, when to be fair I could really do without any extra stress, that the

differences between them and their peers are highlighted, and that they are about to have harsher

restrictions put on them.

So, although this week has been harder than the first (still trying to get 18yo home, she’s in Bristol now at

her amazing Godmother’s, so she’s getting closer!) I have learnt some things I think it would be handy to

share, both for mums of healthy children and for those of not so healthy children, because… in the words of

High School Musical… we’re ALL in this together.

1) Emotions. Who knew there was such a range? Anger, fear, elation, mania, sadness, joy. I think I

have felt them all over the last week and have at times switched from utter despair to complete

elation within seconds. (discovering Baywatch is on Prime might have had something to do with

this!) And what I’ve learnt is that all of these emotions are valid and important to recognise. We’re

allowed to feel all of them. We’re allowed to sit and quietly sob for a hour on the sofa as well as

dance like crazy in the garden. We’re human and we have not been here before, so there is no way

of knowing how we are meant to react. For now, I am riding the rollercoaster and going with it. At

least I am feeling something. Each emotion serves a purpose, whether it’s telling me to slow down

or to speed up. Be kind to yourself and to others no matter how they are reacting. We are all dealing

with a lot of shit at the moment, chances are how people are behaving isn’t about you.

2) Saying no. Boundaries – we all have them, but sometimes we are just not very good at putting them

into action. Last weekend, when I was in full on Mary Poppins/Florence Nightingale/Wonder Woman

mode, my in-laws did a call out for food. They are in their eighties, but not vulnerable as such, and

had no bread. So I baked them a loaf, cleared out my freezer to give them some chicken breasts

and a lasagna and drove down to drop it on their driveway. We stayed in the car and they took the

shopping out of the boot (blue surgical gloves on and everything.) We smiled and waved and drove

home. Then yesterday I had a text: Rhian … we’ve got no milk. And I freaked out. I was worried that

they were now reliant on me to fix this and every other food related emergency they might have and

that I couldn’t. I had to send a message to my mother in-law saying that I was sorry, but she would

have to source her own milk. Then I went on Twitter to ask for support groups in the area and

Facebook to find someone to help. In the meantime – she’d taken control of the situation and sorted

it all. Bread. Milk. Veg. The lot. Me saying ‘no’ had helped her take control and she is now as a

result far less anxious than she was before. As am I. But I still felt so guilty that I couldn’t help,

before I realised that in a weird way I did help anyway. Saying no is ok. There are so many different

ways we can help people, but we (okay, I) need to learn to help ourselves as well. And sometimes

that means saying no if you need to, which brings me on to…

3) Watch your social media time. And I don’t mean Twitter and Facebook etc like I mentioned last

week – I mean Zoom, House Party, FaceTime etc Ironically I’ve been more social over the last week

than I have been for a long time and whilst it has been lovely and I am eternally grateful we have

the internet and I have awesome friends who want to see my face online and have a chat, I’m

exhausted! And it’s no surprise that Coronavirus is all everyone is talking about and that in itself can

get very draining, well for me anyway. If you need to, say no to the group chat and then join in the

next one. And don’t make the mistake of scheduling three for one evening. But of course (it should

go without saying) if you can’t get enough of socializing online then carry on, but at times for me last

week it was all a bit much and it also meant I never saw my husband because I was ‘out’ every

evening. I know this is going to be the only way I can socialize for the next twelve weeks, but I

decided that I don’t need it all in a week. Stay connected yes, but if you need a bit of a breather and

some time out then that is okay too. It’s about knowing our own boundaries and tolerances and

needs and doing what is right for us. I’ve scheduled in from 3pm – 4pm every day as ‘me time’

where my husband will take no conference calls and be with the boys. And I will upstairs with a

book and no phone.

4) Look after your eyes. See above point. If you have glasses for reading, wear them! We are all

staring at screens or reading etc possibly more than we would normally, so be kind to your eyes and

save yourself a headache or three!

5) Breathe. Keep doing it. It was important last week and it’s important this week. But I’ve forgotten to

take time to breathe this week and have needed regular reminders to chill for five. Breathing is

simple. It’s free. It works. Keep doing it. The weather has been so lovely I’ve been heading out in to

the garden and breathing in the warmth and vitamin D.

6) Learn to let go. Of guilt. Of ‘I should be doing this,’ or of ‘I ought to be doing that.’ Of trying to be

everything to everyone. Of trying to control stuff you can’t control. No you shouldn’t and no you

oughtn’t and no you cannot control what is happening outside the four walls of your home at the

moment. And sometimes you cannot control what is happening inside them either. It doesn’t mean

you are failing or doing something wrong. I promise.

7) Alcohol – it can be your friend and your enemy. For me, and there is no judgment here, I’ve

discovered that hangovers and the depressive side of drinking doesn’t always help me cope with

shit like this. You’d think I’d have learnt that by now, but no. I’m trying really hard not to drink every

night. It’s tempting, but I’m one of these people that can’t really stop at one glass, so it’s better for

me not to have one at all. On the nights I drank in the last week my sleep was poor and I woke up

far more anxious on the mornings after. For me, it wasn’t worth it.

8) Exercise really does help. I’m not a doctor so I won’t go into the mechanics of it, but doing some

exercise burns off all of the extra adrenaline stress and anxiety causes. The body holds stress just

as much as the mind and it really helps to get it out. Shake it off. Dance the night away. Do the

Wham rap. Swear at Joe Wicks when your legs are burning and he shouts for parents to get off the

sofa and join in again. I don’t care how do it, just get moving! (okay I do care, social distancing etc

etc!)

9) Be selfish. And no, I don’t mean stockpile toilet paper or go to a party in the park. I mean know what

you need and tell people. Do what is right for you; heck maybe even put yourself first for a change.

As long as you are not neglecting or hurting anyone in the process then do whatever it is that you

need to do. And in doing so if people are being pissy because they can’t pop round and see you (I

have heard this happening) or are annoyed that you’ve cancelled an event or are refusing to go to

one, you can quite rightly tell them to fuck off. We have been advised to stay at home for a reason.

So do it.

10) Start a wish jar. We did this today. ALL of the things we’ve taken for granted or that we miss doing

are being written on paper and put in a jar and then we are free again, I’ve set a timer for us, then

we will DO THEM ALL. It’s giving us hope and something to look forward to.

11) Following on from point number 1 - your child or children’s moods might change this week. Again,

this is normal I think. Mine are moodier, more lethargic, less enthusiastic about any sort of directed

learning. I can’t decide if Joe Wicks (brilliant though he is) is a fab way to start the day, or if he’s

tiring my children out and depleting them of all their energy resources by 9.30am. My seven year old

is finding the change and isolation the hardest. Luckily, we had all the stuff needed to make a

sensory bottle, which is helping him, but we’ve also made a safe space for him to escape to if he

needs some time out. It’s hard not to snap, but for me I find letting him get it out of his system best

before I then go in for a hug. I validate his emotions, he is allowed to feel angry and frightened and

overwhelmed and everything else, but he’s not allowed to hurt anyone or break anything because

he is feeling that way. You know your children, and you’ll know what works for them. Here, at the

moment, it’s a sensory bottle and some time alone to let the emotion pass. Then a hug and a chat

about it. And an apology if needed. Failing that bribery and corruption all the way, fuck it. As I’ve

said, we’ve never been here before; we don’t know the right or wrong ways to handle this. Just

survive!

12) Remember to take it one day at a time. I became overwhelmed when we were told we had to stay

on for twelve weeks. It seemed so long, and that period of time is when all of my children’s birthdays

fall. I was sad for all of the things we had to cancel. I couldn’t even begin to think about when this is

all over because I was terrified that for us it would never be over. It all became too much and I had

to remind myself and listen to everyone who said, one day. Just take it one day at a time. And if that

is too much then just one hour at a time. Breakfast. Go outdoors. Lunch. Break it all down to

manageable slots. One day at a time is doable and realistic in a time when things can change so

drastically in a day.

I hope that all makes sense. This week feels more muddled, and my mental health has certainly been all

over the pace, rather like this blog post I suspect.

Hang in there everyone!

And as the famous quote goes…

If you’re going through hell, keep going!

Week 3

Hello again. How are you? It’s all getting a bit real and stressful now, right? But you’re all staying at home

and saving yourselves, others and the NHS, right? (Unless you are a key worker, obvs. And if you are

THANK YOU!)

Yes, Rhian , you say.

Good.

This week, our third at home, has dragged in places and sped by in others. I actually can’t believe it’s

Thursday again already. As always there have been ups and downs and tears – but the good news is that

the 18yo is now in isolation just down the road and will be home in 9 days and counting. I am calmer

knowing she’s locked away – whilst she doesn’t have the same rare disease as the boys, she is asthmatic

– and that she will be home with us and properly safe soon.

Also, this week my middle one turned eleven, and celebrated a very different kind of birthday. (He said it

was awesome!) Although, it’s worth pointing out, that it wasn’t his worse, as that was his sixth birthday

when he was into his third week of a hospital stay having all sorts of investigative tests to find out why his

lung was collapsed and he was having recurrent chest infections. Every silver lining and all that…

So, here’s what have I learnt in the last seven days that I haven’t learnt already during this time, although

there may be some repetition… every day’s a school day…

1) Ask for and accept help. Yep, that’s right. You’re not putting people out; you’re making them feel like

they are doing something. And there is no shame in admitting there are some things you cannot do.

I’m historically very bad at asking for and accepting help, but this week I’ve had to. From having

prescriptions picked up, to pints of milk being delivered, to help with dog walking, to seeds being

posted through the letterbox, to strawberry plants being left on my doorstep, to daily messages of

links to ideas online for me and the boys to do, to housing my daughter and then driving her so she

can be put up in an annex and in a friend’s back garden, to popping down on your daily exercise

walk to drop of cards and banners and gifts for the birthday boy… thank you for all of it. (And

apologies if you’ve helped me and I’ve missed it out, I shall come on to memory loss later!) THANK

YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. I am blessed to have the most amazing friends and neighbours

who will do anything for my family and I. I owe you all BIG TIME and when I can I will return all of

your amazing favours. I PROMISE.

2) There still aren’t enough hours in the day. Sounds daft, but it is true. I still cannot get on top of the

washing, or get my children to regularly clean their teeth even though I’m at home 24/7. There are

still dirty dishes on top of the dishwasher that needs emptying and I thought by now I’d at least have

painted and decorated one room in the house. But no. No, no, no. I have sorted some jigsaw

puzzles. And I have baked a cake. And I have achieved some other things, but there are texts I

haven’t had time to reply (or have forgotten about) to cups of tea left to go cold on the side. But, you

know what? I’ve learnt to let it go about it and not worry. At first I was extremely frustrated that I

wasn’t achieving more each day. I hadn’t done any writing or been creative or anything. And I had

all the time in the world, so why wasn’t I able to Get. Shit. Done? I thought that I must be a failure,

blah blah blah. But bollocks to that. I’m surviving. I’m feeding my children and doing the best I can.

And that’s enough for now. The fact that there aren’t enough hours in the day is a god thing. It

means time for once is not dragging. And for that I am grateful. We’re in this for the long haul and so

there is still plenty of time to get shit done. Or not.

3) Wiser food choices. A positive! We are wasting less food. And we are eating a wider variety of foods

(sounds glamorous, it’s not – I’m just throwing random things I can find together instead of going to

the supermarket and getting whatever I fancy or cooking whatever I know the boys will definitely

eat) We are more careful with our portions and because of this there is less waste. The children are

actually clearing their plates - they appreciate their food more - because they know we haven’t got

as much food as normal or as easy access to it. (I’ve registered the boys as extremely vulnerable

with the Government after getting the letter through for them, but still we have no delivery slot) I’ve

recognised that it’s good for my mental health to be more creative with what food we’ve got. And I’m

enjoying the challenge!

4) Family time. Another positive. We are eating together more as a family. With my husband here it’s

no longer me cooking one meal for the boys and then another one later on for us after he gets home

from work. We are sitting down together and eating the same food and it is lovely. We chat, we

laugh, we talk about what things we will do when this is all over. One of which is to sit down for

family meals more often!

5) Trigger time. I have noticed that mentally, anxiety wise, I’m generally okay during the day – as long

as I avoid the news and certain social media apps. But as the sun is setting, I feel unsettled and

anxious. I mentioned this on Twitter and a lovely doctor I know mentioned Sundown Syndrome. I

had no idea it was a thing, and haven’t Googled it, but it made sense. I can keep busy during the

day and keep my mind occupied. But then once everyone is fed and the boys are doing their physio

and I might catch the news or start thinking about tomorrow, I remember what is happening outside

the safety of my home. Now I know that this is my triggering time I make sure I’m doing something

to keep busy, or I simply recognise the feelings and say to myself that this is my bad time, and in an

hour it’ll be okay again. And it always is. Know your triggers, know the times of the day when you

are more vulnerable, and understand that how you are feeling during this time will pass. Feelings

aren’t facts. Fact.

6) On that note, I’ve also learnt not to pick up my phone as soon as I wake up. Those early moments

where I wake and forget what’s going on are precious. They remind me of what it’s like when you’re

grieving. When you wake and fleetingly everything is temporarily forgotten, before it all comes

flooding back. Not reaching for my phone delays the rush of reality and allows me to be a bit more

mindful and present and calm. It’s a nicer way to start the day. I’m not being ignorant or wanting to

be in denial, I just want to protect myself that little bit longer before getting up and getting through

another day. The news will still be there later. I just don’t need it rammed in my face as soon as I

open my eyes.

7) Hair. I’ve learnt that I don’t have the kind of hair that looks good unwashed, or washed and then left

to dry naturally. The less said about this, the better.

8) Memory and concentration. This has deserted me this week. I forget what day it is. I forget to reply

to texts or emails. I forget words for things. I can’t remember what conversations I’ve had with my

husband – yesterday I said the same thing to him five times. I guess it’s because my mind is either

so full of holding it all together that it doesn’t have time to remember the little things, or that it’s had

enough and can’t be bothered anymore. Either way, if you’ve messaged me and I’ve not replied this

will undoubtedly be why. Sorry. Also, now I think of it, maybe I’ve mentioned some of these points in

a previous blog post and have forgotten. But who cares, right? If I’ve repeated them here then they

must be important, so sod it.

9) Mindfulness. I’ve never really got on with this before, whenever they told me to focus on my

breathing it would have the opposite of the intended effect and make me start to hyperventilate. But

this week I thought I would give it another go and downloaded the Headspace app. I am now on day

6. I do it at bedtime, but first thing in the morning would work well too, although that would involve

reaching for my phone. Anyway, I think it’s helping. It’s nice to have five minutes to block everything

out, be in the moment and remind myself that in that very moment we are safe at home.

And that’s where I’ll end this post because it is an important point and a mantra I keep repeating…

We’re not stuck at home; we’re safe at home.

xx

Week 4 Week four – cabin fever sets in.

Four weeks of shielding. Four whole weeks. That’s a long time to not leave your house when you’re used to

being busy. Cabin fever set in this week. I didn’t know that was an actual thing, I thought it was a flippant

phrase people used. But no. It’s a thing. And it properly makes you go a bit crazy. If you look at the

Wikipedia page about it you’ll see that cabin fever can make people do risky things. Like leave their homes

in a pandemic. I did it myself last Thursday. I. Had. To. Leave. The. House. So I got in my car and drove

down to the car park near the local river. And before you start tutting at me it’s less than ¼ mile away and I

can see it from my house, but obviously due to shieling I couldn’t walk there like I normally would. Anyway,

I wanted freedom. A change of scenery. Some time alone. Time out. Whatever. I had succumbed to cabin

fever. But leaving the house was horrible. The short drive down was filled with anxiety. I freaked out that I

might break down or maybe crash. Then I sat in my car down by the river with the windows firmly closed

and I held my breath every time someone walked or ran past. (And a lot of people walked or ran past.) It

wasn’t relaxing or comforting and all I wanted to do was go home. The some hideous human stood in front

of my car and blew his nose onto the road in front of me. Well that was it. I was sure I was contaminated

with the dreaded virus and I HATED myself for having left the house and putting everyone in danger

because I selfishly wanted some time alone. Some release from the mundane groundhog-ness of everyday

life.

Never again. This week I toyed with the idea of sitting in my car on the drive with a flask of tea and a good

book instead. I haven’t done it yet, but I might.

And what did this experience of fleeing the safety of my own home teach me and make me think about? It

reminded me that I am privileged. That I get to stay at home and be safe. It taught me once again to be so

bloody grateful for those who don’t have the choice of whether to stay safe at home or not and I want to

thank each and every person who is on the front line or is a key worker for putting themselves in danger

and their families too. I am in awe of their bravery and resilience. Their selfishness at a time when no one

would forgive them for hiding away with their loved ones is to be hugely applauded and I will be stood at my

window clapping like hell for them all again later.

It also made me think of people whose lives are like this all the time, pandemic or not. Miranda Hart has

been doing some chatty rambles (aka chambles) on her Instagram account and she talks about this and

hidden disabilities and illnesses far better than I could. Go check them out.

It also made me think about all the fuckers who are ignoring this whole thing and getting in their cars

unnecessarily and driving a lot further than ¼ mile down the road to their second homes or holiday lets. If

this is you and I find out, consider our friendship done.

So, what has this fourth week brought aside from cabin fever? (And apologies if I am repeating myself in

these blog posts. I’ve decided not to read back over the previous ones to check what I’ve written as I’m

worried that may affect what I write today or skew my memory of this week’s thoughts/feelings/experiences

somehow. And now my blog is part of a research project at Swansea University – I know! – looking into

how people react to a pandemic/social isolation, I want it to be as authentic as possible.)

1. Control. It is no surprise to people who know me that I like to be in control. I like to know what,

when, why, how and if I don’t know these things and I can’t find them out then I hate it. I like making

things better, solving problems, finding solutions, fixing things. But I can’t fix this. And I can’t control

it or how it affects us and that’s been hard to let go of. So instead and as a way of coping I decided

to control the feck out of what I can – and that, for this week at least, has been food based.

Sourcing online delivery slots, even when you have someone in the house registered as extremely

vulnerable, is a challenge, but one I have nailed this week. Coming up with new recipes from the

bizarre mishmash of foods we have has been a challenge and one I have relished. In the kitchen I

am in control. So, if like me you’ve struggled with lack of control recently then find something at

home that you can control the hell out of. For me, right now, being in charge of food, both its

sourcing and cooking, makes me feel in control. And gives me a purpose, which brings me nicely on

to…

2. Having a purpose. Much as I like to be busy and in control I also like to have a purpose. I need to

achieve and sitting on my arse doing bugger all is not something I am comfortable with. Not that I

don’t do it, but I want to be able to choose to do it, not be forced if that makes sense. I hate to think

I’m wasting a single minute of the day and put a lot of pressure on myself to achieve something

daily. Well, obviously in the middle of a pandemic I have struggled with this. I haven’t achieved

anything, or so I think. I’ve had a go, but my brain hasn’t wanted to create, so novel number three is

very much on hold, even though I keep thinking now more than ever I should have the time to be

cracking on and writing it. I ought to make extra effort to sit at my desk and work. I must at least try.

And I’ve struggled with my job and so have lost the purpose of supporting others, for now. It’s hard

for me to achieve nothing. I feel like I’m not moving forward. I’m not making a difference. I’m wasting

precious time alive. This may sounds daft, but I have always been brought up to do, do, do. Plus

that’s how my brain works, I like to do, do, do. But during an epic meltdown yesterday I was

reminded by a very good friend that I don’t need to achieve at the moment. And in fact, surviving

everyday IS an achievement. End of. I need to lower my expectations of myself and notice what I

am in fact achieving. No shoulds, oughts or musts, which ironically is what I tell pretty much every

woman I support through my job. Those words are now banned! And if all I achieve in a day is

feeding my family (control!) or making sure they feed themselves then that’s something!

3. Sleep. I was quite surprised that so far in this pandemic my sleep hadn’t been affected, but that

changed this week. I can’t drop off easily anymore and I wake more often during the night. On top of

that, although undoubtedly inked, I’m sleepier during the day too. I’m told this is normal and often

think to the Big Brother house where after several weeks living in there all the contestants started

sleeping a lot more than usual. I’m sure there’s something scientific to back up my theory that this is

all perfectly normal, and napping during the day may in fact be a healthy way to help cope with it all,

but to be honest I banned myself from Googling anything even vaguely health related a while back

so am not going to start reading up on how sleep, lack of it or too much of it might impact my health

now. What I will say is that I think going with the flow and listening to your body on this front it

probably best. Don’t panic if insomnia strikes (easier said than done, I know) and if you need to nap

then go for it. I certainly am.

4. Time. I think I wrote last week that there still weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything

done. This week there are too many. The afternoons in particular are dragging. Maybe because

that’s when I hit peak ‘I should’ve achieved something today’ time, and then realise that I can’t and

there’s nothing to do. Or I haven’t got the energy or motivation to do it anyway. God I sound

miserable. But it’s hard because the time I do have is making me think more, which is not always a

good thing with an overactive imagination like mine. I find myself worrying about all of the people

who are unwell at the moment and all those out helping them. Worried about women and men in

violent relationships or children in unsafe homes. I think about all of the smear tests that are being

missed as well as bowel screenings and the knock on impact of how some people’s illnesses won’t

be picked up early enough. I worry about people’s mental health and resilience, about how many of

us will become agoraphobic and too scared to leave the house every again. I worry I’ve forgotten

how my friends smell. (Yes, I know this one is weird, but it felt huge yesterday.) Time = too many

thoughts for me, many of them I recognise as unhelpful. Like my best friend said to me yesterday -

we could be in a world where there were no worries and I’d be like, ‘hold my beer.’ I’m trying to learn

to enjoy this time (and I do enjoy of a lot of it, I promise even though it might not seem like it in this

post today!) and to appreciate the long, hot days in the garden with my children instead of wishing

we were at the beach in Cornwall like we were meant to be right now. Time is a gift. My children will

hopefully remember this as the time when we were altogether at home for weeks on end having fun

together. The beach will still be there when this is all over.

5. Information. I’ve learnt to go with the flow on this one and I’m pretty sure I’m repeating myself here.

Whilst I still stand by reducing your exposure to the media and the news I’ve come to the realisation

that some days I want to know nothing, whereas on other days I need ALL THE INFORMATION.

And I’m learning that on the days when I devour every news article going and watch the daily

briefing and look at the statistics and scour twitter for information I’m going to feel a little more shite

about the whole thing.

6. Music. Ending on a positive. Music is really amazing and can change how I feel in an instant. My

latest obsession is the new album by Dua Lipa as every single song is upbeat and makes me want

to dance around my kitchen, whilst cooking and convincing myself ive not lost all control. Or hope.

Stay safe people. And stay at home.

Oh, and as my best friend very wisely says… it’s okay if now is simply a time to survive, not thrive.

xx

Week 5

Week Five - meh

Five bloody weeks. To be honest, for some reason, I’m a little flat this week.

Last Sunday was without doubt the highlight of the last seven days. Finally my eighteen year-old daughter

made it home safely. I am in awe of the way she self-isolated for fourteen whole days, alone. She’s always

been determined and this strength of character certainly served her well during her time in my friend’s

annex. There was a definite party atmosphere in the house the morning she came back – I even heard my

husband singing in the kitchen - and whilst it’s so lovely to have her home, it means I don’t have anything to

look forward to anymore. And I think I underestimated how much the countdown to her return was keeping

me going and giving me something to aim for. Now, it’s just this. The five of us under the same roof, unable

to even go out for a walk, until 15th June at the earliest. No early release for us. Shielding for twelve weeks

whether everyone else has gone back to normal or not. I’m already dreading the jealousy and resentment

that I’m worried is going to hit me at that time, when I see everyone’s Facebook and Instagram posts

showing them all meeting up without me. My children’s friends getting back to normal, when I’m once again

reminded that my children aren’t normal and will miss out on stuff because of it. I can feel the bitterness

creeping in. The catastrophising that the Year 6 prom will go ahead without my eleven-year-old there. That

my children will be forgotten in the excitement of a return normality for most.

Caveat – just for the record dear friends and family, I KNOW you won’t actually let any of these things

happen – this is just the way my brain works, most of you know that by now. Worst case scenario. Every

time. Like I said last week, not got anything to worry about? … hold my beer…

So yes, as I was saying, everything seems a little bit flat this week. We’ve filled the box of ‘things we want

to do when this is all over,’ and I know that some things have been put in there more than once. But on the

news this morning they said social distancing would have to carry on for many until there is a vaccine. And

that’s what my thoughts are focussed on at the moment… that we (as in my family) won’t fully be able to

relax until we either get a vaccine, or have a test to see if we’ve already had Covid-19 or not. I know I won’t

be able to relax until one or the other of these things happens. And so it doesn’t matter what is in our box of

stuff to look forward to, it just seems too far out of reach at the moment. One of the amazing nurses who is

part of the boys’ PCD team has already expressed concerns that I’m going to want to keep them safe at

home when we are finally allowed out, vaccine, test or not. She knows me well.

Anyway, I’ve rambled on a fair bit already, so let’s get on to what I’ve learnt this week…

1. Normality. This links to what I was saying above. There’s been a quote doing the rounds on social

media. It says,

In the rush to return to normal, use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth rushing

back to. Dave Hollis.

I cannot get this quote out of my head. It’s like New Year’s Resolutions, but with bells on and I am

feeling all the pressure. Some days I want to return to none of it. I want to finally commit to moving

to Cornwall (we talk about it ALL of the time anyway) or change my job or my routines. Other days I

dream of returning to it all, every bit.

It is fair to say that I’ve realised, I think, that I was so busy powering on through my life that I wasn’t

taking the time to notice what was working for me and what wasn’t. Which of my friendships were

toxic and which of them I was taking for granted. What made me happy and what didn’t. I don’t want

to just plod along everyday simply making do when this is all over. But then, I’m also craving the

mundane, the normal, the everyday. It’s a very confusing time! I’m hoping that when the time comes

I’ll be able to trust my instincts and know what I want to rush back to, and be at peace with leaving

behind anything that doesn’t call to me or fill me with pleasure. Here’s hoping anyway.

2. Guilt. I feel a lot of guilt this week. Mainly for not checking in with friends and family more. The

Houseparty notifications have tailed off as have some of my Whatsapp and Facebook messenger

groups and texts. The initial excitement/agitation of when this all kicked off is gone and people are

settling into a new way of living and communicating, which is understandable. But I feel bad that I

haven’t sent a text and checked how someone is, especially when I know that person has been

struggling. It’s not from lack of time, obviously, so I’m not sure what it is. Maybe this is becoming the

new norm and I’m already slipping into old habits and not reaching out. Maybe I’m becoming more

hermit like, safe in these four walls with my family around me. Maybe I feel helpless as I feel I

cannot do anything to support them other than listen and empathise. Or maybe I should stop

worrying about it and stop feeling guilty… it serves no purpose anyway!!

3. Webcams. Never before have I known the joy a small camera can bring! A very good friend of mine

sent me the link to a webcam at my favourite beach in Cornwall, where we used to play as children,

and since then I have become addicted to the things. I’ve been watching cameras from my favourite

beaches and harbours in Cornwall and France. You have to imagine the sound of the waves

crashing on to the shore, or play them from another device and pretend, but still it is lovely seeing

my favourite holiday destinations in real time. Beautiful sunsets and sunrises. The odd dog walker

or person getting their daily exercise. It’s a great way to pass the time and I find it very calming.

Those beaches are still there, waiting for me to return to them. And I will.

4. Complacency. Now, I am at the height of paranoia and anxiety where the Coronavirus is concerned.

I have had extreme health anxiety since I thought I was having a heart attack aged five (true story)

and with the boys’ being so vulnerable this is literally all of my worst fears coming true. But still, it’s

bizarre how easy it is for even me to become complacent as time goes by. To wash my hands for

ten seconds instead of twenty because I’m sure it’ll be okay. Or to open the post without sterilising it

first. Or to not wash my apples in Fairy Liquid (okay, maybe this was one step too far in the first

place.) But it’s scary how easily we can convince ourselves that something is okay just because we

are exhausted from keeping on top of it. I’m rightly furious with people ignoring social distancing, but

I am starting to understand why some of them think it’s okay (aside from the twats who think rules

don’t apply to them, obvs.) Take my neighbour, for example, who had her grandchildren around

again this week even though she should not be seeing them at all. Perhaps she thinks that because

they’ve been social distancing for weeks they are all safe and it’ll be alright if they don’t visit for too

long and stay two metres apart from each other whilst they are there. I can see the logic. But NO.

NO. NO. DO NOT GET COMPLACENT. Notice when it’s happening and as much of a pain in the

arse it is to stick to the advice DO IT. Call people who walk two abreast on the pavement out. Wash

your fruit and vegetables, in Fairy liquid if you want. And keep cleaning your damn hands. This isn’t

over yet and complacency will make it last a whole lot longer.

And so, I think that’s it for today. Five weeks in and still, for us at least, eight weeks, three days, seventeen

hours, forty-three minutes and twenty seconds, nineteen seconds, eighteen seconds … to go…

Plenty of time for me to deliberate over what I do and don’t want to rush back to.

xx

Week 6

Thursday has somewhat snuck up on me this week. I have no idea where the time is going or how it is

going by so fast, and yet it is. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? Does that mean I’m having fun?

Finally enjoying this time? Partly, yes, I think I am. Or at least I’ve accepted that this is the situation for us

right now and so I ought to make the most of it.

I’ve been thinking about what to write in this blogpost over the last few days and wondering what on earth

to say – worried as I’m not sure I’ve learnt anything new this week, although I’m sure I must’ve. Usually by

Thursday I’ve got a whole list of notes on my phone of things I want to write about. Small things I’ve

noticed, or thoughts and musings I want to voice. But this week that hasn’t happened. There are a couple

of things on my list, but nothing really new. I’m wondering if it’s because this is the norm now and I have

finally let go of trying to control the situation. I understand that this is how we have to live and so I’m not

thinking about how it’s all affecting me as much as I was. Like I said above, I’ve accepted it. And maybe if

acceptance is the only thing I’ve learnt this week then that’s not a bad thing at all.

I’ve learnt (and am in awe of) how well most of us can adapt, although I know this isn’t true for everyone.

Luckily my children seem to have adapted unbelievably well to lockdown and I am so grateful. Maybe the

three weeks in isolation that my middle one spent in a hospital room aged five have helped him to be able

to handle this period of time so well. If you asked them they’d say they are bored, but they are always

active and always find something to do. I was lucky they wanted to go back to ‘school’ aka Pikachu

Primary, and start learning again on Monday. And I’m also lucky that they get on so well. They play

brilliantly together and rarely argue. Maybe that’s one plus side of sharing your life with someone who has

the same rare disease as you, they are a little team and it’s lovely to watch them interact with each other

and bounce off each other’s ideas. Not an ounce of competitiveness or sibling rivalry - an actual godsend at

the moment. And I’m also lucky that they are also very accepting of this situation. They don’t question it.

Everything is very black and white for them. There’s a virus that might kill them out there so they have to

stay at home. It’s that simple.

Work is still a challenge though, for both my husband and myself. He’s the breadwinner and so is the one

who is locked in his bedroom/office from 8am until he emerges late afternoon, often without having had

time for lunch. He’s taken a huge pay cut. He’s stressed. And so, the childcare, as with many other women

I suspect, falls to me. But not just the childcare. The cooking. The cleaning. The home learning. Physio.

Meds. Everything. And so, my job, which I love, has taken a bit of a backburner. I was fortunate that I was

able to take two weeks off over what would’ve been the Easter holidays, but now I’m meant to be back, and

I can’t seem to make it all fit. I only work ten hours a week, but even that is proving tricky. A routine is

emerging of home learning in the morning then free time in the afternoon where I can take phone calls, but

I’m terrified one of the boys is going to break a bone in the garden with me watching from my office window,

and so can’t focus like I should. And on top of that I find that the boundaries between work and home life

are being blurred, which I usually work really hard to not let happen. I’m lucky I have awesome colleagues

who are very understanding of my situation, but there is only so much they can do. We shall have to see

how this one goes methinks…

On a positive I have noticed that I’ve been less anxious this week, and I think that’s mainly due to work and

home-learning starting up again and me being busier generally. I’m exhausted by the end of the day, but

I’m sleeping better. It’s hard because there is little time for arts and crafts and self-care at the moment - the

dishwasher is on at least four times a day at present (I am terrified it’s going to break down!) - and

someone is always hungry or demanding something. One day I am going to count how many questions I

am asked and let you know. I expect most of them will be from my husband. ‘Is there any milk?’ he asks.

Why he can’t just go and look in the fridge like the rest of us I don’t know. Anyway…

Yes, I am aware I’m waffling a bit this week, but I haven’t edited this post too heavily as the waffle is a good

representation of how I have been feeling this week. Drifting from one thing to another without much

thought. Almost in a dreamlike state at times. Detached from reality. I’m forgetful, easily distracted, not

really making much sense at times.

But I’m alright.

I have only cried once in the last seven days and I’ve managed to have several alcohol free days. The

sunshine is, as always, very welcome as is the fact we have a garden we can get out into in lieu of being

able to leave the house for exercise. I can lie in a lounger and imagine I’m on holiday for a bit before I

remember why I’m at home for the sixth week in a row. I almost look forward to Joe Wicks in the morning

and am actually able to complete a whole session now, unlike that first week when I gave up after one or

two exercises. There’s a sense of calm washing over me that I’ve not felt in a long time. A release of

control. A knowledge that I am doing my best.

Acceptance.

Week 7

How, how, how, HOW is it Thursday again already? I mean, when I look back over the past seven days,

last Thursday seems like an age ago (ahh the sunshine!) but then it also feels as though I’ve blinked and

here I am again writing another blog post during this fucking pandemic.

This week hasn’t been the best. My youngest son has had a tooth infection and the stress of getting him

some antibiotics for it has been quite high, for me, not least because I am the one who is mum, nurse,

doctor and physio 99% of the time. When the dentist tells you he won’t treat the infection until it becomes

life threatening then you freak out somewhat. Anyway, thanks to Dexter having a compromised immune

system on top of having PCD the dentist did give us some antibiotics and they appear to be working, thank

feck. (sorry, I might swear a lot today, go with it) Getting the antibiotics was also a source of stress as I’ve

not left the house for weeks and so the whole thought of driving to the dental surgery and then actually

getting out of the car and interacting with someone who wasn’t a close family member was not a pleasant

one. And when I did go, it was so weird to get out of the car and walk on the pavement – on ground that

wasn’t in my house or my garden – wearing actual shoes. The lady at the surgery was brilliant and not at all

phased by me standing back and reaching out for the medication. As soon as I got in the car I wiped it

down with an antibac wipe and slathered antibacterial gel all over my hands. Then I came home, showered

and threw my clothes in the wash. I’m aware this was properly over the top bearing in mind I’d touched

nothing other than the medication and had seen the lady at the surgery for about two minutes. And then

this behaviour got me thinking, will I always feel the need to shower after being out and about? Will I always

have to make my children shower after going to school, if they ever return? Will I always wash everyone’s

clothes after a trip outside, even when they’re not dirty? Or become agoraphobic and never go anywhere

because that’s easier? If you’re starting to hear alarm bells about the state of my mental health then don’t

worry, I have already been referred to a psychologist through the boys’ PCD team to support our family with

all of this, and she is wonderful. Once again the NHS is bloody brilliant.

Anyway, what have I learnt this week, seven weeks into this weird, shitty, frustrating, anxiety-inducing,

fucking horrible time? This…

1) Just because you accept something does not mean you have to always be happy about it. Last

week I was in a place of acceptance, or was it apathy? Did I simply have no energy to be concerned

or upset about it anymore? There have been times in the past seven days when I’ve been genuinely

happy and genuinely okay with staying home and not going out at all. But more recently I’ve been

pissed off. I understand that we have to stay in and shield as a family, blah blah blah, but it really

fucks me off at the moment. I feel trapped. Maybe that’s because the freedom carrot is being

dangled for others – mumblings of a possible return to school on 1st June (at the earliest) or

suggestions of being able to have a bubble of ten people that they can see at the weekend. We

won’t be able to have a fucking bubble. We can’t ask five other people to completely shield

themselves just so we can see them, and so we’ll miss out on social interaction and my children will

not be able to see their friends and it fucking sucks (sorry, mum, I probably am swearing a bit too

much today, I’ll reign it in.) Some days I remember to take it one day at a time, and I can and I do

and it’s ok. But on other days I wake up with a sense of dread and can’t help but wonder how the

hell this is going to pan out for us. So do I still accept our situation and understand it? Yes. But am I

happy about it? This week that’s a hard, no.

2) The more you are starved of something, the more you crave it. I heard someone say this on the

television this week and it really resonated with me. It reminds me of when I was pregnant and

wasn’t allowed runny eggs or blue cheese or various other foods I love. What I was being denied

was all I could think about and my first meal after giving birth was always soft boiled eggs and toast

soldiers. And it was delicious. But now I am starved of more than simple food, although flour is still

proving tricky to get hold of, and I hate not being able to pop to the shops and get something I fancy

at that moment in time, just because I want it. Right now I am being starved of so much more than

cravings and whims. I am being starved of my family, my friends, the sea, freedom, feelings of

safety and calm, reassurance that this will ever end, things to look forward to, things that make me

who I am and keep me. The list goes on. And on. I am craving cuddles with EVERYONE, coffee

dates, browsing in shops, long walks in the countryside or on a beach, laughter in a big group of

people, someone else fricking cooking for me (I am sooooo over cooking twice a day every bloody

day) time on my own. I miss my life. I’ve just read a novel about someone in prison and I identified

with a lot of it. There was a line about not even being able to simply pop to the corner shop to get

chewing gum. Urgh. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had enough crap in my life already and want to stamp

my feet like a petulant toddler and scream that this isn’t fair. I haven’t broken the law. I shouldn’t be

locked up. Yes, of course I am still grateful I have a nice house and a lovely garden, but sadly at

times those things don’t always help or counteract having sick children. I imagine that even a palace

can seem like a prison in time.

3) Expectations. Following on from the above I have learnt (well, it’s an ongoing process) to lower my

expectations in many ways. I used to look forward to holidays or weekends away. The BIG things.

Now I look forward to a meal I’ve planned. Last week it was a full on Wagamama meal that I cooked

from scratch, this week we’re having a fake Nandos. I can’t look forward to the big things, like

Disneyland Paris in the summer or a week away with my mum, my brother and his family in France

and I have no idea when I will be able to look forward to these things again, if ever without the

constant threat of evil viruses. So I have lowered my expectations of what brings me joy and what I

look forward to. And I really am trying to find pleasure in the little things. Like looking forward to the

weather improving at the weekend (where the hell has the sun gone?) or reveling in having just half

an hour to myself. I’ve stopped putting stuff in the ‘what we want to do when this is over’ box

because I keep reading articles (I know, I know, I shouldn’t read them) about how this is never going

to be over and it just seems like I’m putting stuff in a box to be buried along with any hope of ever

doing those things. So the little things are all I have to get excited about. Maybe there’s a life lesson

there somewhere. Maybe I should always learn to appreciate the little things.

Right, I’m sorry I’m being more negative this week, but as always these posts are about being honest.

There is no point in recording this time and being part of a research project if I’m not going to tell it like it

is. And the novelty of this has definitely worn off this week. Everyone is a little bit more tired, a little

more short tempered. Home learning is still going okay, but only from Mon – Weds. By Thursday

everyone’s had enough and gives up, including me. The boys are saying they are bored more and

more. The 18yo rarely comes out of her bedroom – she feels safe in there with her laptop and her

online friends – and I get it. The husband is working harder than ever and by the time he comes down in

the evening he is so tired he doesn’t really want to talk. Zoom meetings with friends are still happening,

but I’m getting fed up of the slightly artificial way in which you have to communicate via them. And I am

still unable to do any creative writing, which is making me feel like I’m wasting some of this lockdown

time. But my brain simply cannot create at the moment, and maybe I just need to accept that, instead of

battling with it and trying to force something that doesn’t actually need to happen at the moment…

Lots of people have been saying we’re all in this together, and we are. But as a lot of people are also

saying, and as time goes on I’m understanding more and more, we might be in the same storm, but we

are very much all in different boats.

Stay safe everyone x

Week Eight

how are you?

Whenever I speak to people at the moment, or receive a text or a Whatsapp, the question that is always

asked is… ‘How are you?’ and I think I am beginning to lose the ability to know how to answer it. Not in a

bad way, just in a, I’m not sure what I’ve got to say, way. I’m fine doesn’t seem to cut it. Nor does, I’m okay.

And chances are that when you ask me that question I’m exactly the same as I was the last time you asked

me that question. Because nothing is changing. I have no news.

And I feel like I’m running out of things to say. Well, new things anyway.

It’s nearly 5.30pm and normally by now my blog post would’ve been written, edited and posted, but today I

am only just getting round to even attempting to write it. I’ve baked a cake. Have home -schooled the boys.

Sewn some bunting for VE day tomorrow. Eaten. Done Joe Wicks. It’s been a busy day, but I have been

putting off writing this in spite of that because I wasn’t sure I had anything new to write about. Let’s see

shall we…

What have I learnt this week? Well…

1. It doesn’t matter. This came up on a work Zoom meeting and I thought, oh my God yes. So much

doesn’t matter right now. If we don’t do all the allocated home learning, it doesn’t matter. If my

children are on their devices more than usual, it doesn’t matter. If they are up later than they

normally would be, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters because this isn’t forever. We’re all getting

through the best we can. There is no right or wrong (pretty sure I’ve said this before, but oh well.) All

of the rules by which we used to live don’t matter at the moment. It’s all changed. We are dealing

with issues we’ve not had to manage before and so the nitty gritty stuff that used to be important

simply, say it with me, doesn’t matter. Soon everything is going to be okay (it will!) and who knows,

maybe this strange period of time will turn out to have a positive impact on us all. Our children will

learn different skills, as will we. Maybe that’s what matters.

2. Zoom gives me a headache. I love seeing people’s faces, but boy does looking at them on a screen

hurt my eyes. It is so unnatural. I’ve started to wear my glasses again because most of my day is

now spent looking at a screen. From messages on my phone, to home learning on the computer, to

the tv. Even the book I just read was on my Kindle, another damn screen! I’ve realised that I need to

factor in some screen free time, somehow. And whilst we are on the subject of online socialising, I

miss the natural way conversations flow that doesn’t work on Zoom or FaceTime – if one person

jumps in the sound goes and I can’t hear anyone. I almost want to manage the sessions like I

would’ve managed circle time when I was a teacher, where only the person holding the teddy is

allowed to speak. It’s just not natural. I like to interrupt and be interrupted. I like to hear everyone

laugh, not glitch and go silent.

3. Everything is better when the sun shines. Fact.

4. We are all awesome. We really are. We are drawing on emotional reserves we didn’t think we had.

We are home schooling when we’ve never taught. We are living in isolation when all we want is

company. We are keyworkers risking our lives to help others. Human beings are bloody brilliant and

we are doing it – we are getting through this. We are pulling together. We are helping others. We

are amazing!

5. Children are also awesome! The way they adapt, accept, live in the here and now and not worry

about the future. I have learnt a lot from my two – and I know I’ve mentioned this before – but the

way they just accept the situation and stay positive is amazing. Am. In. Awe.

And that’s it. I did have something to say after all. Who knows what next week will bring, Sunday’s press

conference is going to be an interesting one that’s for sure.

But I imagine that for us – working hard and shielding the boys – nothing much will change. And I can

honestly say that right now, that doesn’t matter.

Stay safe x

Week – 10

It’s a long one, grab a cuppa.

It’s been two weeks since I last wrote a pandemic blog post, and what a two weeks! Full of ups and downs

as well as the most terrifying experience of my life.

Mostly we’ve been doing okay, tensions have been rising a bit and there’s certainly more niggly arguments

in the house than there have been so far in lockdown. For week nine, I was mostly finding the whole food

shopping situation stressful as well as trying to come up with different meals every day from what

ingredients we had. It felt like a huge responsibility. Not being able to pop to the shops is harder than I

thought it would be (sounds trivial I know) and screw trying to control one thing like I said a few blog posts

ago, I’d quite like someone else to worry about feeding me now please. The only time someone else has

fed me in the last ten weeks was the nurse who gave me a ham sandwich in hospital on Saturday.

Which brings me nicely on to this week, week ten and what I’ve learnt…

1) The NHS is fucking amazing. On Saturday morning I woke up with a twinge in my right hand side

and so distract myself I decided to ignore it and bake my friend’s 40th birthday cake. Within ten

minutes I was writhing on the floor convinced I was dying. Worse than labour – for those of you who

have given birth, imagine the peak of your strongest contraction, but no tail off, no breather, just that

pain constantly no matter how you lie or sit or whatever you do. And then imagine not knowing what

was causing the pain. I have suffered with health anxiety from the age of five when I first thought I

was having a heart attack (no word of a lie) and so I honestly thought this was it. I’m so grateful that

my AMAZING nurse friend, Amanda, was on my doorstep within minutes of me calling her and

screaming down the phone that I needed help. (Love you, Mand) The ambulance crew were also

phenomenal. Kind, efficient, calm. Amazing. Even when I told the young 28yo male paramedic that

he was ‘a lucky bugger’ for getting to look at my saggy old, have-given-birth-to-three-children,

stomach. Gas and air has a lot to answer for. The staff in A&E were also wonderful. And although I

was waiting for a scan for hours they managed my pain and reassured me I was in good hands. I’ve

never been in an ambulance and the only time I’ve been to A&E was for a broken ankle nineteen

years ago. Trust this to happen in lockdown when I am shielding two extremely vulnerable children

and screaming at them to ‘be bloody careful, we can’t go to hospital right now,’ and haven’t left the

house for ten weeks. But, the positives are that now the hypochondriac in me knows that if I need

NHS care, I can get it. THANK YOU NHS. Ps it was a kidney stone and it has now gone into the

sewage system. Thank f*ck.

2) My body and mind are amazing. Sounds daft when my body grew a stupid kidney stone that made

me think I was dying, but when that was happening my body and my mind coped. My body was

strong, my mind even stronger. I rarely big myself up but, as the lovely paramedic told me in the

ambulance on Saturday, I should do it more often! And so I will. Being on my own in A&E and not

knowing what was going on was really scary, but I distracted myself and focused on my breathing

etc etc and without sounding like too much of a knob, I nailed it. I am brilliant. End of.

3) Nostaglia. I was chatting to a friend about this a week or so ago, and it’s stayed with me. We were

talking about how our memories are more powerful than ever at the moment. A forgotten smell can

make me feel like I am right back there in the moment, or a memorable song. I heard an old tune

the other day and I was suddenly transported back to travelling on a coach to Switzerland for a ski

trip when I was seventeen. I felt the exactly same as I had done then, and it was so weird. My friend

and I came to the conclusion that our brains are desperately searching for new experiences

because at the moment all they get is Groundhog Day. And so in searching for something to feel

our brains are taking us back to real experiences and real emotions and feelings. I’d be interested to

know if there was a scientific reason for this! And funnily enough, after my A&E trip, it hasn’t

happened so much this week.

4) What are you missing? Flirting with strangers… Don’t judge me! Earlier in the week Sara Cox asked

people to comment on what they were missing, but not the obvious like friends and family, the more

shallow things. And this, flirting with strangers, is now all I can think about! I miss strangers, I miss

interacting with them, flirting or not, I miss talking to people other than my family and friends (no

offence!) The little jokes you have with people selling you coffee, or waiting staff in restaurants, bar

tenders, random people when you’re out walking the dog, anyone! Male or female! Maybe it’s more

that I miss spontaneity and conversations that flow and are fresh and new. And no, it is not why I

told the paramedic he was a lucky bugger, like I said, gas and air.

5) I don’t like (most) people. Sounds harsh, maybe I should put it in a different context as this could get

contentious. What I mean is that this experience has taught me that the reason I sometimes find

people’s actions hard to understand is because I expect people to have the same standards and

morals as me, and I’m disappointed when I discover they don’t. And this is where anger and

frustration comes in at the moment. A few friends said on a FaceTime last night that lockdown was

to be put in the same category as politics and religion, ie something that should never be discussed.

And I get that I’m in the extreme having to shield two extremely vulnerable small people, and that

my anxiety surrounding Covid-19 is higher due to this, but that aside it’s worth noting that I am

fundamentally a rule follower. If I’m out on a walk someone wants to go off the designated pathway

and walk where the little yellow arrow doesn’t point, I will not follow. I don’t speed. I park in the

designated spots at all times. Blah blah blah, yes I am a saint. (rolls eyes like you all are!) It’s not

because I’m a dick it’s because I’m terrified of something bad happening if I don’t do as I’m told _

I’m sure a psychologist would have a field day with that one. And so if the government, whether I

trust them or not, tells me not to leave my house or have people round to my house (even family) or

go to the beach etc etc etc then I won’t. And not just to protect my children, but to protect all

vulnerable people and the yes the NHS too. There’s something called cognitive dissonance where

people convince themselves that they are abiding by the rules, when in reality they are bending

them. And then there is selfishness and stupidity. I won’t go into it because it makes me sound like

a judgy cow and I might piss a few people off, this is certainly divisive, but these rules are in place

for a reason and breaking them isn’t just about you being able to assess your own risk – it’s by far

more complicated than that. If in your gut what you’re doing feels wrong then it probably is. And I

know it’s hard. And I know the government guidelines have been confusing. And I know I probably

need to permanently come off social media so I can’t see photos of packed beaches in Southend

followed by comments about how great it is that theses people have a right to be there and aren’t

giving in to fear. Or that they are probably teachers. Do not get me started. But on that note…

6) I love teachers. They have been working their butts off and putting themselves at risk going into

school to look after some of our most vulnerable children. This is much more than just teaching.

They have been sorting food vouchers and driving to houses to deliver food. Phoning parents daily

to check they are okay. Driving to houses after domestic violence incidences to see that the children

are safe and unharmed. Delivering work in school, on line and in person. And there is so much

more. They have no PPE. No protection. And now they are having to prepare for a phased

reopening of schools and all that entails – not just lesson planning, but thinking about how to stop

any spread of the virus. Ordering bins with lids on and toilet seats, stuff that wouldn’t even cross

your mind all with no extra resources or finances. Rearranging classrooms so social distancing (how

the feck you do that with four year olds I don’t know) can be implemented as much as possible. All

the while parents are expecting them to keep their children safe and we all know who will be blamed

if the worse happens. Who knows, maybe there’ll be a VE Day caused second wave and they won’t

open on June 1st. But what I do know is that we should bloody well be clapping for teachers as well

as NHS staff. I am in awe. My children aren’t allowed to go back in the first wave, and I am grateful

that decision has been taken out of my hands, for now. The whole thing just sits very uncomfortably

with me.

7) Finally, I know that you’ll all be pleased to know that I have learnt to lower my standards. Normally I

never leave the house without make up on, but in the past week I have chatted to people out of my

window almost naked apart form a small towel after coming out of the shower (again, not in a flirty

way) and have answered the door at 3pm in the afternoon having done Joe Wicks and not

showered in the morning with a large chocolate cake stain down my vest top, underneath which was

no bra. Sexy.

Right, think I’ll leave it there as my children would probably like some lunch sometime soon. And I want to

go and sunbathe.

Love to you all x

Week 11

Week eleven – them and us.

A lot has happened this week, both outside of my home and in it. Inside the house both my eighteen year

old and my eleven year old fell down the stairs, which warranted another necessary trip out for the house,

this time to the local minor injuries unit. Thankfully the eighteen year old just had a few bruises (she stayed

home) and it would appear there were no broken bones in the eleven year old’s foot (swelling can hide this

though so not 100%) but definitely lots of torn muscles and ligaments, which means he’s hobbling round

instead of running. But once again the NHS were amazing – we went straight in when I told them he was

extremely vulnerable and shielding, the x-ray department was cleared, and the staff were kind and

compassionate even in full, uncomfortable, sweaty PPE. I like to think that as a family we are doing the

public a service and testing out all of the different NHS settings for you in case you need to know what they

are like in the middle of a pandemic (gotta laugh really.) Newsflash, they are ALL great.

This morning I drove the eighteen year old to Cheltenham to collect all of her stuff from university halls. The

motorway was busier than I expected, but we saw only the maintenance man at the campus and no one

else. Getting there for 8am was a good idea! But it made me sad that her first year at university has ended

this way. She was having the time of her life and although it was hard for me not having her here anymore,

knowing she was the happiest I have ever known her helped. It’s sad it’s been cut short and that she didn’t

get to spend the summer term there having a blast, but like she said, she has two more years to make up

for it. Let’s hope that happens!

So what have I learnt this week, amidst all of the ups and downs of life at home and externally thanks to the

crazy news? (No, I am not going to mention it, I’ve decided not to talk politics on here, too divisive.) Well, I

wouldn’t say I’d learnt so much as come to some conclusions…

1) Even though we are allowed to go out for one hour of exercise, we don’t want to, and that’s okay.

We have all been out for a walk in the last week, not together, but one at a time everyone has come

out with me for a stroll near our home. Trouble is, our home is near a beauty spot (although it’s fast

becoming a spot full of rubbish, scorched grass and empty nitrous oxide canisters) and that means

people from far and wide all come to party here. Crossing the main road whilst maintaining social

distancing is impossible. Cars are racing to get to the river near us, down a narrow road, and it’s

dangerous, not to mention scary when drivers stop to call my lovely neighbours who ask them to

please slow down, ‘fucking slags.’ People are picnicking where they never have before and leaving

a whole load of crap behind. And it makes me angry. They BBQ on the grass and leave large black

smoldering spots behind. They are littering and f*ck only knows where they are going to the toilet

because the public ones aren’t open. And to be honest it makes my anxiety rocket. It’s horrible to be

out walking near people who think it’s okay to not social distance at all. I hate it. I get that they don’t

know we’re at the far end of the spectrum for shielding, or that we’ve only just started going out

again, but there seems little regard for staying safe round here at times and it makes going for a

walk not worth it. I don’t care if people want to come to the river, but I do care if they shit in bushes,

take drugs and brush past me whilst they are on their way there after having called my neighbours

fucking slags. Just no. They can f*ck off. I’d rather stay at home.

2) Following on from the above - I think some people think this is over. And I’m not going to elaborate

on this musing for fear of sounding like a judgy cow or wading into talking about politics territory. But

like I said above, I appreciate we are at the far end of the spectrum of how closely we have to follow

the rules, but I think that even if we didn’t have to shield we’d still be respectful of them. All I will say

is, I’ve learnt that I cannot change what other people are doing or thinking, I can only change my

reaction to it, and as long as I know we are doing everything we can to keep our children safe then

that’s enough for now.

3) Social fatigue. You heard it here first (although, maybe I need to Google it before being so bold as

to claim I thought of it?!) I reckon this is going to be a thing. (well, not for all the teens ignoring the

rules down by the river that I can hear right now, but for the rest of us maybe) It was my middle

one’s eighth birthday yesterday and he was blessed to have so many of his amazing friends pop by

and chat to him through the lounge window. But my goodness he was exhausted by the end of the

day. It was as if seeing so many people and having to make conversation was almost too much. By

the time his last ‘guest’ turned up he was almost close to tears at having to lean out the window and

shout ‘thank you,’ again. It got me thinking – when we return to normal, will all of our senses be so

over-stimulated by touch and speech and smell that for a while we become super knackered by it

all? When I think about the difference between how many people I used to communicate with on a

daily basis before this all happened to now, then the drop is huge. The mums on the school run, the

cashier at the supermarket, the strangers in the street (yes, I’m thinking of the flirting thing again.)

There were so many people, even if just for one word or sentence, that I spoke to daily and now it’s

pretty much just my children. And maybe my husband when he emerges from his ‘office,’ as well as

the odd Facetime, which let’s be fair isn’t the same and is tiring in a very different way. I worry we’ll

either have nothing to talk about or will be so pleased to be social and see people that we can’t shut

up. Maybe some of you are ahead of the game on this now you’re allowed to be socially distant with

one other person? Is it exhausting? Oh, and I’ve just Googled social fatigue, turns out it is indeed a

thing…

Social Fatigue occurs when a person is overwhelmed by being put into far too many socialsituations for their comfort, often resulting in boredom or annoyance at those around them.

…maybe I should call it social exhaustion instead…

4) I’ve just asked my eighteen year old what she thinks I’ve learnt this week and she’s made a good

point… she says I’ve relaxed (believe it or not) since being in A&E and having to take the eleven

year old to the minor injuries unit. And she’s right. Most people have been able to leave the house

for an hour to exercise and more recently for longer, and I imagine have got used to being around

other people and being more confident as the weeks go on and they don’t become unwell. I’m still

very much in the early stages of that process and thinking that everyone I pass has Covid-19 and

will give it to me just by looking at me. But the more I go out, the more it becomes normal and the

less anxious I am. Don’t get me wrong, I am still anxious and I am in no rush to go out for a walk this

afternoon for the reasons I mentioned above, but the anxiety around it all is easing a bit. She also

noted (she is a wise one) that I’ve spent a lot of my life living with anxiety and so this is somewhere

where I am ahead of the game, I’m used to having to calm myself down and know exactly what

techniques work. I’m actually sleeping like a baby and haven’t had a panic attack in a while. Is it

weird that I’m grateful for this? Grateful that I have been in so many shitty situations that I know how

best to handle this one? And know that because I’ve survived worse before then I will do again? I

was wondering if the universe was trying to teach me something by sending me so many challenges

in lockdown, and maybe this is it? That I’ve got this.

Anyway, I think that’s it for this week, but just to reassure you the news has made me fume. And with

the bizarre approach to track and trace starting today I don’t see that frustration disappearing any time

soon.

One rule for them, another for us… (dammit I went there after all, sorry.)

Take care x

Week 12

This week was always going to be a tough one for us, with the announcement that lockdown was about to

be eased and the general population were going to be able to do things that shielders cannot, but I didn’t

expect it to coincide with a mass influx of monsters descending on the village I live in.

I’ve mentioned my inability to break rules before (as well as my unrealistic expectations that everyone else

should be the same) and before lockdown was relaxed even further I was struggling with people I know

bending the rules to fit their own needs – my in-laws for example, who meet with my sister-in-law and her

family when the rules were, at that point, that you were only allowed to meet one other family member at a

time. Not six to go for a walk. It’s taken a while for me to realise that my anger at this was probably jealousy

mixed with frustration because our situation means we cannot bend the rules, not even a little bit.

And then this weekend, thousands of young people defied the law and shunned the rules and partied like

animals along the riverbanks where I live. There was shameless drug taking, excessive littering (think used

tampons, dirty nappies, used BBQs, nos canisters and so much more) using residents’ gardens as toilets as

well as verbally abusing them, shagging in broad daylight on a patch of grass children play on, parking without

thought for any emergency services that might need to get through, attacking a cyclist and breaking his nose

and so, so much more antisocial behaviour. In all honesty I was scared to leave my own house, and even if

I had chosen to leave it would’ve been impossible to maintain the safe two metres distance from anyone. At

one point I couldn’t even sit in my garden because I could hear them all screaming and swearing and throwing

all the hard work and sacrifice I have made back in my face. It made me so angry. The disrespect these

people showed was off the scale and I hated every single one of them. I became obsessed, watching the

local sailing club’s webcam, my anger growing with every waft of smoke from a BBQ, every splash of a

teenager into the river, ever piece of litter left behind.

It highlighted how different their pandemic experience is to mine. They’re not worried about catching it, and

why should they be? It’s not targeting youngsters and we’ve not had a huge enough load of cases here for

them to know someone it has hit. It’s not close to home for them. Not only was I angry because they were

not giving a thought for anyone but themselves, I was angry because I couldn’t do the same – I couldn’t party

without a care in the world. I was envious of their enjoyment and carefree abandonment of any responsibility.

They couldn’t be further away from where I am right now and that only served to highlight how hard I am

finding all of this.

Since the pandemic started, and as you’ll know if you’ve been reading these blogs, I’ve been struggling to

accept that I know no one else going through this in the same way as us. I know no one else shielding their

children. Not even another parent of a child with PCD. Thanks to the rule that children with PCD shouldn’t

mingle (as with Cystic Fibrosis) in case they pass on dangerous infections (oh the irony) we’ve never met

any other parents of children with PCD. But life was okay when everyone else, shielding or not, was in the

same boat as us and having to self-isolate and stay home. But then the rules changed, and we’re in a very

different boat now. My book club will happen without me socially distanced in my neighbour’s garden this

month. My 11yo’s friends are going back to school without him on Monday. My mum is meeting my brother

and his family on a beach. Zoom meetings are dwindling in favour of group face-to-face meetings, of course

they are. And all of this is happening when thousands of people are still being diagnosed daily, and hundreds

of people are still dying. It doesn’t feel right to me, but I understand how excited people are to see each other

and how they are craving these face-to-face meetings and getting so much pleasure from them.

But it hurts I’m not able to be a part of it. And neither are my children. (Just going add a disclaimer here – I

am not for one minute saying my friends and family are insensitive souls who are purposefully leaving me

out. Not at all. They are lush and I am blessed and I am not expecting them not to meet up just because I

can’t be there, of course I am not, but as I always say there is no point in writing these blog posts to document

this time if I am not going to be honest about my experiences.)

And so, my children? Well, they’re feeling it too. It’s the 18yo’s birthday next week and she’s gutted she can’t

have five friends round for a socially distant barbecue. All of her university and school friends are beginning

to meet up again and it’s no surprise she’s suffering because of her brothers’ vulnerability. It hurts to see her

upset by it and anxious about what her return to university will be like, and if she’ll have to go through the

tough process of self isolating for two weeks every time she wants to come home.

And the boys? The 8yo claims he is okay, and to be fair he’s always been happy in his own company and at

home so I believe him, thankfully he’s probably not as aware of the situation as the older two are. The 11yo

had claimed up until now that he was okay with it all, but the cousin he’s been communicating with and playing

with online daily went back to school this week and I think it’s finally hit him that everyone else here will be

going back too. The conversations in the Whatsapp groups he’s part of will change to subjects he won’t be

ale to contribute to, because he won’t be experiencing them. We briefly mentioned that this might also be

true when the new school term starts in September and that he may not be able to start secondary school

with his peers. But we’ll deal with that if and when it happens.

After the events of the weekend I spoke the PCD psychologist again yesterday, who was as wise and

wonderful as ever. She taught me that’s it’s okay to voice how I am feeling and that I’m allowed to be upset

by the seeming injustice of all of this. And she helped me acknowledge how external factors are making my

life even harder at the moment. The virus. The easing of lockdown. The monsters by the river. I was having

a difficult day yesterday when I couldn’t see the wood for the trees, where I felt like this pandemic was never

going to end and that we were going to be trapped and forgotten at home forever. It’s fair to say I was at my

absolute limit for dealing with external stresses. But then she rightly pointed out that I am getting through it,

and that I am supporting my children and my family to get through it too. She asked to me to think of

somewhere I am desperate to be, and the answer was as it always is … on a beach in Cornwall. A beach

I’ve been watching the webcam footage of for weeks now. She asked me what is it about the beach I am

craving, what does being at the seaside give me that I’m not getting right now, or that I can attempt to replicate

here. She doesn’t mean buying play sand from a supermarket and listening to wave sounds. She means core

values and emotions. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Going to a beach, watching the waves

roll in, digging my feet into the sand offers me so much more than fresh air and freedom. I won’t share my

thoughts on this with you now because they are not fully formulated, but it’s certainly something I’m going to

be focussed on this coming week. A new technique to help me continue to get through this, as I’m sure there

are still fresh challenges to come.

And so all that is left to say is – if you are meeting up with others then have fun for me too. And please, please

do it safely.

xx

September - One Day At A Time

Sending your child off for their first day at secondary school is a day of mixed emotions. Excitement, nerves,

they all come into play. But sending them off for their first day at secondary school in the middle of a global

pandemic is as though someone has taken those emotions and injected them with steroids. Throw in a rare

respiratory illness, which has already robbed that child of one lung, and it’s as if those emotions on steroids

are powered by several bolts of lightning. One day at a time, I’ve told myself since this all began. And I still

remind myself of that mantra daily.

And so it begins…

This week my eleven year old, with one remaining lung, started secondary school in the middle of a global

pandemic. And I am still not quite sure how I feel about it. Since his diagnosis several years ago, and then

his younger brother’s subsequent diagnosis, of Primary Ciliary Dyskinesia, we’ve had several obstacles to

overcome as a family. The initial shock. The endless, often painful, investigations. The many, many hospital

appointments all over the country. The double lobectomy. The daily physiotherapy and weekly medications

to keep both boys’ lungs in the best of health. It’s been tough. Incredibly tough and at times I’ve struggled

with anxiety over their condition. Given that I also have OCD relating to health anxiety, then you’ll appreciate

that a global pandemic is without doubt my worst nightmare, both as a person and a mother.

At the start of the pandemic I trusted my instincts and pulled both boys out of school a week before they

closed to everyone but key worker and vulnerable children. Back then their consultant told us that the boys

needed to stay at home. Stay indoors. I had to wash everything that came through the door and quarantine

it for three days, minimum. We couldn’t get food shopping. We couldn’t walk the dog. We couldn’t go to the

pharmacy to get their medication. We didn’t know when it would end. Over and over again we were told that

if they caught Covid-19 they would be seriously ill and could potentially die. That they’d only be free when

there was a vaccine. In fact, if there was a vaccine. It was a dark time, but on some level at least I had control.

There were no decisions to be made. There were no risks to take. We did as instructed and stayed at home.

We were exposed to nothing. Yes, homeschooling was a challenge, as was trying to fit in some exercise,

crucial for the boys’ wellbeing. (On one day I did a 5K run in my garden; I’m still dizzy from going round in

circles now.) But we felt relatively safe in our little bubble, and grateful we had a garden as well as amazing

neighbours and friends who walked the dog or fetched prescriptions or dropped wine on the doorstep. We

fell into a routine. We got by, one day at a time.

And then it continues…

After several weeks evidence started coming in from around the world - the boys’ team do A LOT of research

- that children weren’t being badly affected by the virus, even those with rare lung conditions. And then finally,

after twelve long weeks at home, we were allowed out, with strict instructions to shower when we got home

and wash all of our clothes. A pain, but doable. My youngest, then aged seven, would only walk outside with

his arms firmly folded, ‘so that I don’t touch anything, Mummy.’ And they both insisted on wearing masks,

which looking back now seems ridiculous. Unsurprisingly, it turns out that after telling your children that the

outside world isn’t safe for three months, they’re not keen to go out and experience it for themselves.

But in spite of everything, those fears eased over time and the summer holidays have actually been okay.

We managed to see friends and family; we even went away for a few days to the beach and left the fear of

Covid-19 behind the TV screen that didn’t get switched on. If you had told me a couple of months ago that

any of this would’ve been possible I would have laughed in your face.

Until finally…

But this week the return to school and Covid-19 couldn’t be ignored anymore. And even though I knew it was

coming, even though I wanted it and didn’t want it at the same time, the boys both went back to school. In

the middle of a global pandemic. And you know what? They’re okay. They’re happy. My seven year old came

out of his first day back today and as soon as I asked him what it was like he said, ‘it was wonderful.’ They

are beaming. They have energy in them I have not seen for months. They dance again at dinnertime to songs

on the radio. They’ve come alive.

And me? Well, it won’t surprise you to hear I’m a little more cautious than them, even though I don’t show it.

Of course I am. But right now, while the weather is relatively mild and classroom windows and doors can be

left open, I’m calmer. Right now, when flu is a distant threat on the horizon, I’m okay. Right now, while cases

in the area we live in remain low, I’m relaxed. But I know all of these things will change over the next few

months, and that knowledge haunts me in the middle of the night. My children often have temperatures and

frequent infections in winter, it’s part of their illness, and I dread having to put them through the uncomfortable

Covid test and keep them off school every time they’re unwell, even though it’s unlikely to actually be the

virus itself. I try and rationalise the anxiety, but I can’t help worrying about winter, when it’s cold and dark and

we all have to spend more time indoors with windows and doors closed, the air being recycled by our breath

alone. I’m anxious the world will become complacent, that masks will left at home, hands won’t be washed

as often, people won’t be quite so socially distant.

Luckily, I’m well versed with unhelpful thought patterns, including this kind of ‘what if, worse case scenario’

thinking. And so right now, while the boys smile and walk away from me and into their schools with hundreds

of other children, sanitiser and masks in their bags, I’ll let them go, knowing their schools are doing everything

they possibly can to keep them safe. Trusting the consultants when they tell me it’s okay.

And I’ll keep going.

One day at a time.