Third Time Unlucky: Why Lockdown 3.0 is The Hardest Yet
Most of us saw it coming (Covid didn’t get its Christmas holiday approved before allowing us to merrily mingle for the sake of consumerism’s biggest annual party) but that doesn’t make this latest lockdown any easier to deal with. But why are we struggling even more so this time around and how can we break the perpetual cycle of doom-scrolling and despairing?
Talk to anyone and the general mood is one of despair. ‘I’m so unmotivated’, ‘I can’t get out of bed’, ‘all I want to do is lie on the sofa eating rubbish, watching even worse TV’ are the responses friends and family routinely roll out when I’ve asked, ‘How are you doing *with everything*?’ recently. And these often, unashamedly and consciously, constitute my day-off plans.
We’re officially in lockdown limbo, there’s no end in sight and it feels like we’re trapped in a national game of hide and seek, desperately trying to locate the elusive normality so many of us are craving. The novelty of having all of this extra free time that we rushed to fill with new hobbies, life admin and promises to finally ‘get fit’ in the previous two lockdowns has well and truly worn off. Banana bread, sourdough starters and Zoom quizzes are relics of lockdowns past and they’ve been struck off the guest list of this latest enforced house party.
Thankfully, we’ve finally shunned toxic productivity — our bandwidths are at full capacity to allow futile feelings of guilt a sought-after spot in the precious free crevices of our minds. A silver lining I guess? We’re stuck in a rut in the most profound sense with only work to distinguish the days, if we’re lucky enough to have kept our jobs throughout *all of this*. Cry January has replaced the annual booze ban of Dry January because; one, alcohol offers escapism of sorts or at least helps differentiate between weekdays and weekends and two, real tears have replaced the broken tier system that landed us in this position in the first place.
We’ve ran out of steam: all enthusiasm for longed-for hobbies has waned and we’ve realised socialising while staring at our own faces is draining and only serves to fuel our insecurities. We’ve been there, done that and got the Instagram Archive of successful sourdough starters to show for it, or not. Time — a much under-appreciated luxury in our previous lives and as recent as July — has become another chore we’re laboriously tasked with filling. We’re bored. There’s nothing to look forward to beyond time off work and even then, at least the day job offers some stimulation. We’ve done the Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter cleans, Depop-ed our unworn clothes, organised Tupperware and spice racks etc. etc. It feels like the only thing left to do is sit and wait for some good news.
Even the daily walk feels like a Herculean effort. What was once welcome respite from the four walls of your home and provided a much-needed purpose, even if in the loosest sense, is now increasingly harder. We know it’s vital for breaking the perpetual loop of lethargy but putting on shoes that aren’t slippers and moving further than your 20-square-metre home allows is a chore at best, a burden at worst. Even though we know it’s good for us, there’s something holding us back. Namely, the bleakness of the literal world outside; it’s cold, dark, more often than not raining and there’s the small matter of the increasing fear of catching the virus, fuelled by an over indulgence in the 24-hour news cycle.
The well-trodden path of the daily loop around the local park has become a chore added to our ever-growing to do lists. It’s less want, more need or should but just can’t be bothered. And if that’s the case, don’t. Only you dictate your actions and inactions. I do rarely abstain from a much-needed fix of fresh air — my flat is very small meaning I work, cook, eat and slob out on the sofa in one room so braving the bleak mid-winter does provide a very worthwhile escape and I do always feel better for it. Reminding myself of that feeling is my motivational crutch for getting out of the door.
Lest not forget, January (or Granuary as I coined it a few years ago due to my refusal to be social post Christmas) is always the hardest month, pandemic or not, and I think assigning just one day to feeling Blue does us a disservice. Don’t we all feel blue for the duration of the month? Regularly reminding myself of this puts the current crisis into perspective. In a normal world, really what would I be doing that’s different to the current situation? Even if I had the option to socialise, I’d politely decline any invitations. The ability to work from home is a privilege (and the thing I’ll miss the most when it’s all over) and not having to leave the house before sunrise to battle the morning commuter crowd is a luxury I’m thankful for every day.
Another reason why this lockdown feels like third time unlucky is that the second was temporary. It served a purpose as it promised us a ‘normal’ Christmas of sorts. If we just shut up shop for four short weeks, Covid would reward us for our efforts of staying inside by not inviting itself into the homes of our loved ones during the annual break. There was a definitive end point, whether you agreed with it or not. We had a date earmarked to allow us to make Christmas plans — a luxury 2020 robbed us of — and indulge in the normality of festive traditions, indoors or outdoors, depending on what level of restrictions your region was subject to.
There’s no such luxury this time around which is another contributing factor to our increasing struggle to muddle through routines we’re more than used to.
During our first rodeo, back in March, measures were regimentally reviewed every three weeks so our hope was scheduled. Remember when you were first sent home from work, consciously deciding not to completely clear your desk as you thought you’d be back in a month at the most? I miss the naivety of 2020 me.
We eagerly awaited the three-weekly announcements as the scale of the crisis didn’t seem too out of control in the early days and we were oblivious to just how quickly the situation could escalate. That gave us reason enough to open our minds to the small possibility that some good would come out of each press conference. Now, there’s only Twitter rumours and ill-thought soundbites by bumbling BoJo to offer sporadic glimmers of hope, contradicted by scientists warning that lifting restrictions before May could trigger a third (or fourth? I’ve lost count) disastrous wave.
When the third (and supposedly final) lockdown was announced on the eve of schools returning after the Christmas holidays, the PM gave another unwanted masterclass in deflection, casually mentioning the roadmap to open schools after February half-term, provided a long list of conditions are met. The key factor being the aim to have offered the first dose of the vaccine to the top four priority groups by then. But given teachers don’t fall into one of those, it seems unrealistic and cruelly optimistic that schools will re-open next month. Especially as it’s common knowledge that first doses only offer 52% protection (which is admittedly better than none) and they’ve prolonged the window between second doses to 12 weeks (it was originally three). So, we’re looking at a further three months before they’ve achieved their goal of protecting the most vulnerable and thus fulfilling the main condition to lift lockdown which brings us to May. Right now, that seems aeons away.
With March 2021 on the horizon, there’s a collective disbelief that we’re back to square one, rendering our efforts to protect people and the NHS and the many sacrifices (major and mundane) of the past year totally useless. The fact that we’ve lived through this recurring nightmare for a whole year due to an incompetent government is (and should be) enough to induce incessant rage in even the most calm of people.
So how do we pull ourselves back from the brink and get through the next few months?
I’m a realist and truly believe acceptance is key. I resigned myself to the fact that this would go on much longer than the Government allowed us to believe, thanks to their unwavering ability to slowly but surely obliterate every ounce of trust we ever had in them due to the many U-turns and the rest, back in June 2020. Accepting that this is the situation right now, without speculating when it will end (easier said than done), means you can’t be disappointed when they inevitably ruin your hopes and expectations. I am a neurotic planner by nature but I refuse to make any sort of plan beyond tomorrow as I won’t allow myself to be disappointed any more than I already have been over the last ten months. Expect the worst and hope for the best.
Happiness god Mo Gawdat’s year in review podcast, published before the latest lockdown was announced, has also been instrumental in shifting my mindset recently. It’s in two parts and I’ve noted down the time codes of my favourite pearls of wisdom (‘there’s only two things you can control: your actions and your attitude’) to replay when I’m in need of a reality check. He’s a realist but also an optimist and is an expert in explaining why we’re feeling how we are in layman’s terms which I think is key to knowing how to become unstuck from the current rut.
It’s worth remembering that there is hope. Most news points to death and tragedy but amid the bleakness we have better treatments, the vaccine offers a reliable route back to normality and Spring is within our reach. Bringing with it brighter and warmer days that’ll not only lift the physical and mental fog of January but hopefully, the pressure on the NHS, too.
But until then, Bling Empire, Married At First Sight Australia and Junior Bake Off go some way to filling the bottomless void we find ourselves in.