Learning from Lockdown

Life in lockdown continues into week 9. Even with the recent easing of some travel restrictions, the basic premise remains the same - life is still far from normal. It still has its enormous frustrations, but also brings opportunities to learn. Without Evie here we aren’t faced with the rigours of home-schooling, or the worry of whether or not we would be sending her back to school on 1st June. Looking at some of the comments on social media about parents grumbling about having their children at home all the time makes me bristle as I would give anything to have her here. I watch with incredulity at other parents who play Russian Roulette with their children’s lives, merrily mixing with non-family members. Either they don’t care enough or don’t understand enough. Children may be less susceptible to the virus, but to my mind, it is still an unacceptable risk. But hey, if that’s what they want to do, then it is their risk to take. I have learned from the pain of losing a child, so have the benefit of a weird kind of hindsight. Others don’t seem able to learn from another’s experience.

Being a bereaved parent, I have a very different outlook on the impact of the virus compared to the muggles out there. The social isolation that it has brought to the country is no stranger to me. That’s my world. We’ve spent two and a bit years living in what feels like a leper colony. Following last week’s WW, another bereaved parent commented that what she experienced was ‘compassion fatigue’; people just ran out of energy on how to deal with her and drifted away getting on with their lives. The isolation is a known problem for us, so we were probably better placed to deal with lockdown than many others. But it has certainly compounded the problems and pushed us that little bit further down the path of depression. Last week I doubled my dose of anti-depressants to try and take the edge off. The lack of choice is what does the damage. But at least I was able to recognise what was happening and do something about it. The anxiety that is now hitting the wider community is completely unknown to them and has come as a surprise. Have they learned to ask for help? I fear not.

With the wider economy in turmoil, we have all had to do things slightly differently. We shop local now, we take more exercise and we help others. Each day around 4pm a couple of volunteers from Melksham’s Community Volunteer Hub arrive here and drop off 20-30 prescriptions collected from the half dozen pharmacies in town. I sort them out into their delivery routes and at 6pm another batch of volunteers turn up to collect them and deliver to the vulnerable people that can’t collect them for themselves. The system has been honed over the last couple of months and runs smoothly. But beyond the practicalities, I think we have learned to think about others again. Our group of 6 houses routinely pings a Whatsapp message out when one of us is out shopping to see if anyone needs anything. Being able to do something to help someone else is important for our mental well-being, it gives us a sense of worth. That is something that we lost when Evie died. It also costs us nothing. We are learning to look outside our little bubble for a while.

What the long-term impact of the virus will be is anyone’s guess. But maybe, just maybe, we can learn to think of others for a change, to help those that need it and to talk openly about how things are affecting us. Every day I wonder what Evie would be doing to help. I know for sure that she would be in touch with her friends, talking to them, encouraging them. Looking out for them. She wouldn’t allow them to become isolated and lonely. Sometimes we need to learn that it takes effort to think of someone else and keep doing it. Showing you care isn’t a box you tick once when you’ve sent a text asking how people are doing. It’s about following it up and then to do it again and again.

The virus might just teach us to regain our humanity.