I suppose we never realise how habitual, how regular, repetitive and routine the majority of our lives become, until something drops a boulder in the way.
I am not going to get into which approach to deal with the pandemic is best, will prove to be best, or least worst. I am also not going to get into the conspiracy theories. Both of those can wait.
It’s the personal stumbles over what was always a clearway. There will be products, and produce, on supermarket shelves. There is nothing to stop you visiting friends, family. There is no reason that social, community, official activities should ever cease.
So the days tick through. Which means that the bigger stuff – holidays, visits, sport, entertainment – those times that create the target points through the calendar, that drive the more mundane, are the times we aim at, prepare for, anticipate.
And then they are gone. Or severely curtailed. Every brake that ever existed has been slammed oj with superhuman force, and your nose hits the stop barrier with significant force.
And then the mundane, the assumed, the clockwork, suddenly becomes a lost simplicity, a comfortable support to link the highlights.
No connections now. Everything is blocked off. No entry signs abound. and the unnecessary panic of assumed restrictions creates more anxiety and further restrictions.
We get used to the frameworks of life, even those of us whose work life formula is totally different from the norm. The structure is there so that we don’t have to think about everything. So much just is.
Until it isn’t. And then we are here.
And we cope, and adapt, and show support, and empathy, an assist and adjust.
But it is strange, how much of life can be a repetitive framework that allows us the freedom to fill the gaps, to appreciate the remainder to savour the special and the important.
I have a distinct feeling that, as and when we return to whatever normal will be, it will not be the same as normal used to be.
Which may be a good thing. But this is a shite way of getting there.
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