Self isolation or normal life
When I was young I would quite often fetch a chair, a book, a drink, a snack and some music on my trusty tape recorder. My Mum would glance wryly in my direction and say, “You’re having a party, aren’t you?” And I would agree, pleased with myself, and pleased also that I didn’t have to excuse my seeming passivity. It was never part of my plan to examine why? Why was I having a party for one?
This pandemic will have far-reaching outcomes for many of us. There is much talk of economic collapse, travel and leisure restrictions, and self isolation. We are alarmed at the prospect of managing without normal human intercourse for two, three weeks, even months.
Which got me thinking. How many of us spend a lot of time alone anyway? For whom is self isolation alarming? Those of us who go to parties, meet lots of people, travel as part of their normal expectations and eat out most lunchtimes may have to start thinking about that. Until yesterday, the prospect of spending three weeks with family at home was bracing, and had not made me unhappy. It was simply par for the course, and, actually, when I thought about it, perhaps I have been used to spending acres of time alone anyway, at home. I’m used to it, and I’m certain I’m not the only one.
It seems alarming to so many of us that we will have to curtail our expectations, but a lot of my disabled friends live day and daily with curtailment, and with expectations that make the prospect of enforced home stays almost a pleasure: no more having to pretend, or make such an effort, or be part of a bigger something that simply refuses to see, and that characterises honesty as self pity.
Perhaps an unintended outcome from this is that we learn to have more empathy for those with so little: the homeless, the poor, the vulnerable, our brave minorities who only wish to belong. I count myself as exceptionally lucky that I have support, love, kindness, options and a sense of humour. And that I am good at living with little, and have been so chronically accustomed to having low social expectations. Ski-ing holidays in the Vosges? Forget it. Parties and clubs? Pubs? Not often…
Thanks for listening. Stay safe.
Please share:
March 18, 2020 @ 7:08 pm
Hi, Fran!
I LOVE the beautiful photo of you as a child! 🙂 Though I must admit I see a bit of mischief in your eyes! 🙂
Your point about the current crisis is right on the money. Even as a deliriously happy introvert, I’m not happy about ‘social distancing’ as they call it–or ‘sheltering in place.’ (Who dreams these things up????)
However, I do find myself thinking often about people I know and don’t know who are already outside our usual daily circles of friends. The inequities of this pandemic are already visible everywhere we look (here in the USA). Perhaps we can grow in empathy? There are small signs here and there. On the whole, I’m grateful for this ‘enforced’ moment (or months) of sudden, cold-turkey social distancing. Even though it comes at great cost to all of us.
March 19, 2020 @ 8:09 am
Hi Elouise,
Thank you so much for visiting, and for your wonderful comments. So much appreciated! 🙂 There are indeed many reasons to be grateful, not the least of which is that this change in our lives will force us to take stock of the way we do things – might the govt introduce a form of universal basic income as a way of helping all of us to ride out the storm, instead of insisting on “worthy”, “work-based”, or means-tested criteria? That might be more effective than multi-billion dollar loans.
Also, the Earth gets a chance to recover some ground; and after all, it is what sustains us all. “Sheltering in place” sounds nice and cosy, doesn’t it? Let’s hope that our economic priorities shift a bit, so that we can all keep our shelters! 🙂 Take care! Xxx
March 18, 2020 @ 8:23 pm
Dear Fran,
I have said a few times that some of the people we relate to on our blogs are as real and as important as the flesh and blood friends we see in the flesh. But in fact I have only about half a dozen people I relate to regularly, so the blog is very important.
Your post refers to those of us who regularly spend time alone – some of us cope, some of us are content but there are those who are hidden and we must search for them; the lonely ones.
March 19, 2020 @ 8:34 am
Dear John
I agree. I do think my on-line friendships are totally vital. It’s not just the blogs and the social media, but the exchanging of letters, gifts, the sending of happiness and lurve. All very important. We will see a change in what and whom we value: carers, producers, helpers and volunteers. For some reason, I see you working at a sort of food bank, John, where lots of worried people go and need help. Volunteers are good at reaching out. Bless you! 🙂
March 30, 2020 @ 10:51 am
As a freelancer, I too spend a lot of time alone, but I miss my students. Interacting online is not quite the same, but better than nothing. It is no real hardship for me, then. I worry about those who are defenceless, as you’ve mentioned. Where will the homeless go? Who will care for the elderly living alone with no family? This will come very hard to them. They may be the uncounted victims of this virus.
March 30, 2020 @ 12:31 pm
Hi Val!! Thanks so much for popping in to read this post and leave your comments. :-)))
I have hope, now, that without the usual city hustle and bustle which tends to obscure and hide the problems of the poor, the homeless and the isolated, this epidemic will force the hand of those whose job it is to provide subsistence care, at lots of levels. It’s all very well telling people to “stay at home” but if their only home is the streets, it quickly becomes obvious that lots of people need to be provided for, urgently. And that is happening. It also becomes more starkly obvious that the people we thought of being “unskilled” are not: we need shelf stackers, cleaners, carers… I do hope that one outcome is a more inclusive view of who and what matters, so that no-one is left without help. Bless you!