CW: Lockdown
Tonight I joined the Time to Change CYP team and was honoured to hear young people sharing their experiences of mental health difficulties.
It’s been a while, but this has encouraged me to start writing again. Here’s something I wrote during lockdown, reflecting on my vulnerability:
My vulnerability as a disabled person in the current Covid-19 pandemic is not lost on me. I have not left the house for almost 12 weeks at the time of writing this section, and whilst I am very grateful to be safe and to have a garden to relax in, it has been a very challenging time. One where many disability activists would argue that disabled people and those who are clinically vulnerable have been forgotten. It has once again been down to us to fight for our rights in terms of hospital treatment and the responsibility has been placed on us to shield (often before the lockdown was enforced). I have found the loneliness difficult and I say that from the privileged position of not having to isolate alone. I cannot even begin to imagine the difficulties faced by those people who have been completely isolated for the duration.
As the lockdown now slowly begins to lift, I feel a pang of jealousy as I hear of friends, family members and even strangers being able to meet their loved ones in small groups outdoors. At the time of writing there has been no announcement about when it’ll be safe for me or other ‘vulnerable people’ to do so. When will vulnerable individuals feel truly safe to do so? Even the term ‘vulnerable person’ has been given to me, I haven’t chosen it. In a sense, my autonomy has been taken away. Then the anxious thoughts creep in. I certainly feel like an afterthought. In some ways, I’m used to it. Strangely, I was almost comforted at the start of the lockdown that we were ‘all in this together’. Most people were staying home. Although, “same storm, different boats” was a phrase I read recently that really resonated with me. All of those times I felt like I was missing out, that I didn’t have a place at the table, I didn’t have to worry about that for a short time. Everything was accessible online, my place at the table was available without any accessibility barriers. But I knew it wouldn’t last. How could it? Humans aren’t solitary beings.
Here, I can only write from my experience. I understand that privilege exists. I know I have a lot of work to do to address my own privilege as I write this. However, I wonder whether this pandemic will be a catalyst for change? I hope so. A place where privilege begins to be recognised; where accessibility is considered more frequently as working online has now become a viable and widely used option; where societal pressure to be productive lessens and actually, getting through each day amongst all the challenge and uncertainty is seen as ‘enough’. I hope so, but I fear we have a long way to go.
I never thought I’d feel nervous about “getting back to normal” – but I do. Although I’d love to go to the pub, I haven’t been back yet and we haven’t had people inside the house. I have finally been able to see friends at a distance in the park; I had the best Zoom uni gathering and a wonderful homemade curry shared on my drive (and a surprise visit thrown in) with my best friends for my 30th Birthday. I know I’m very lucky.
I’m thinking of those who haven’t been so lucky. I’m thinking of friends who have lost loved ones; I’m thinking of friends and colleagues who have been working throughout this time; I’m thinking of those who have had weddings postponed; I’m thinking of those who have had no choice but to have others in their houses to help with care needs, and I’m thinking of those who have been or felt alone.
Most of you who know me well will know that I’m a fan of regular communication. Thank you to those of you who have checked in with me; who have put up with my constant texts, phone calls and video calls (though those aren’t new) and just generally helped me feel less isolated. It means a lot.
To quote Brené Brown “courage is born out of vulnerability, not strength”, so here’s to navigating the next steps with a bit of courage.
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