This post was scheduled to be posted in May. For many reasons, I postponed it.
This is an excerpt of what I wrote during these two odd months of quarantine. Journaling helped me process everything I was feeling.
At the beginning of 2020 I remember saying to my psychologist that “2020 is going to be the year for me to bloom again”. I think pretty much everyone at least thought that. I was finally letting go of things from the past. I realized that I went through some traumas and needed to reconnect with myself as I previously said.
I never thought we would live through a pandemic. I’ve read dystopian books (Station Eleven anyone?) about it and never thought this could happen in real life – how naive of me. I was in shock. I actually was and for days, I could only think about this.
At the beginning of quarantine here in Paris I was obsessed, I needed to understand what was happening, how many people were dying and it literally made me sick. I was exhausted from it all, was having five panic attacks a day and could barely sleep. I was quarantined alone with no one to hug me and tell me everything will be okay. I’m used to living alone, and I actually like it a lot. But being far away from my loved ones for an undetermined amount of time was hard to digest. Were they safe? Was I safe? What if something happened to me, who would take care of my cat?
Then I decided to stop checking the news altogether. One of the best decisions I made. I felt like I could breathe again. But then, started the phase where I forgot about it all. Every morning I had to remind myself that, no, I was not going to work. Not today, not tomorrow, not before a very long time. It was hard to wake up every morning. I was scared to go out, but I didn’t understand why. Was it in fear of catching the virus? Was it before outside wasn’t safe? I still don’t know.
I was missing my family, my friends; but also going to brunch every Saturday morning, being able to have a drink with a friend and most of all : being able to walk in Paris in the cold morning. I know I was actually allowed to do so around my apartment, but I wouldn’t do it. It’s necessary to my well-being, but not that much.
I felt robbed of my hopes and dreams. It’s a very privileged think to say, but as someone who suffered from depression, I had big hopes for 2020. I didn’t have the Spring to fill me with joy and blooming flowers. I didn’t get to travel to see my best friend who lives 8000 kms away from me.
I also had big plans for this year, like good old life changing experiences. I have to grieve them and move on and try to hope that they could happen next year. Or not.
I felt like sharing this again, to remember how uncanny these times were.
Hope you’re all safe, that your loved ones are too. Take care of yourselves. Be safe.