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I’m Sick of Saying It Could Have Been Worse
As lockdown is looming over Britain once again, how much optimism can we really muster to still be able to cope?
The world crisis we’re all experiencing has turned me into my own version of Eleanor Oliphant, and I only just discovered I wasn’t at all completely fine.
Last night I cried over the pandemic for the first time. I’ve been lucky so far not to have been affected by it too much. I’ve never had the virus, and the few people I know who had it recovered quickly. I’m somewhat financially stable. My mental health has been up and down, but mostly fine. I’ve been able to cope with this heartbreaking situation with as much strength, reason, and positivity as I could.
When British prime minister Boris Johnson announced England was to go into lockdown for the third time last night, it was the first moment since the pandemic started, when I felt an overwhelming mess of things.
Until last night, whatever new measures were implemented, no matter how strict, I never felt more than numbness, and a strong intention to keep following the rules and stay safe. But yesterday, as Mr. Johnson was addressing the public, I suddenly felt as if layers upon layers of frustration, anger, sadness, confusion, and fear were coming to the…
