A lonely quarantine in Paris.

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.

Empty streets
My coworker can be invasive
Trying to bullet journal again

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.

A friend sent me flowers to get through this.
Always drawing the High Priestress card
My coworker is also the cutest 🙂

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.

5 thoughts on “A lonely quarantine in Paris.

  1. Nice post but I kind of always cringe at the abusive use of the term “panick attack”. Having had some attacks, it’s kind of painful when I suspect people to misuse these words.
    Bug maybe you really did feel like you were about to die, who am I to tell.

  2. 2020 has been such a strange year for us all. I am still in the process of considering it as a transformative experience, acknowledging I am part of the lucky ones and cherishing its beautiful moments, but still allowing myself to notice the insidious wounds it caused inside. Thank you very much for sharing your vulnerability and uneasiness, I feel it helps transcend the isolation we’re all still recovering from.

    1. I’m part of the lucky ones as well, no one got sick in my family. But it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a hard time for all of us.

      Thank you for your comment, this means a lot. I’m trying to be more vulnerable and if it’s appreciated, well I’m glad.

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