Being stuck at home means having to deal with your shit.
Could there be an upside to self-isolating and social distance?
TL;DR.
Being alone, so much of the time, is forcing me to reflect on who I am, what I want from life, who I want to socialise with, and how to go about doing it. If you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by it all, you’re not alone, and I hope that my writing will help you feel a bit less isolated.
Robin Williams told a joke:
Did you hear about the buddhist terrorist? He poured gasoline all over himself and set himself on fire. Someone nearby screamed “What are you doing!?”, to which the terrorist replied “I’m making you deal with your shit.”
Those words have felt like the slogan for the coronavirus, because there’s no escaping the reality of the world, now, and we’re having to deal with our shit.
Will a Wall Stop Coronavirus?
How important is immigrant deportation, in the time of coronavirus? I’m sure there are some who misunderstand and assume that, as Corona is a Mexican beer, this is clearly Mexico’s fault, but this post isn’t targeted at them. For the rest of the world, and more specifically for those citizens of the US who are strongly opinionated on the topic of immigration: Should it be put aside, or at least reduced in importance, for the foreseeable future, until the pandemic has settled?
Regardless of the country, immigrants statistically make up the largest portion of entrepreneurs and small business owners. In the UK, Polish immigrants are often touted as the Mexicans of Britain, but much like their Latino cousins across the pond, they too do a lot of work that no one else wants to do, particularly when it comes to health care.
How does one reconcile the appreciation of such people at a time like this, with the general distrust or rejection of them, previously? Is there an appreciation for them, as they are now the ones whose labour is feeding us? Is there some way that they can earn respect, acceptance, and integration, wherever they may be? Or are we, as a society, going to get back to doing the jobs that we stopped wanting to do, a long time ago?
Does Brexit still matter?
I live in London, England, and up until a few months ago, the major thing that dominated our news cycles was Brexit. How much was it going to cost? Who was going to pay what to whom? When were we leaving the EU? What impacts would it have on travel? What was going to happen to our National Health Service when large numbers of European workers decided to leave and go home?
We’re now several weeks into lockdown, with our prime minister in intensive care related to symptoms of the coronavirus, and no one I know is talking about Brexit. The few people who are talking about Brexit tend to be the same gutter mouths who talked about it, incessantly, before hand (namely the likes of Nigel Farage and his ilk).
Yes, Brexit still matters, but maybe the reasons for it and the urgency of it have changed. With the world in a state of pandemic, it seems highly inappropriate, if not downright infuriating, to trivialise everything that’s going on, in hopes of putting a political disunion ahead of common human decency. Governments can’t let things fall by the wayside, but the first priority has to be taking care of their people and making sure that they are safe, secure, and stable. Starting conflicts — especially at a time of such economic and pandemic uncertainty — has never been seen as a safe or stable course of action, but then I’m not a genius, so maybe I just don’t understand it.
Dealing with My Own Shit
I’ve got a very long to do list of things that I want to build, write, fix, learn, bake, make, break, and share. I come from a software engineering background, and have a lot of projects that are between 70% and 80% finished, but something always stops me from moving them on.
Being stuck at home, these last few weeks, I’ve gained a sense of pride and accomplishment in tackling some of the larger projects, around the house.
When I moved into my apartment in July, I bought a very large, deep, second hand sofa from the local charity shop. The delivery guys brought it up the stairs and managed to get it stuck in a really awkward way. It was one of this situations where you have to wonder how they got it into that position, in the first place, because it definitely wasn’t coming out. To make a long story short, I ended up removing the upholstery, staple by staple, and having to saw a chunk of it off, to get it unstuck and up into my flat.
I went out and bought the lumber necessary to fix it, ordered the additional bits and pieces I’d need, and put it all in the corner of my living room, saying I’d get to it. As you can probably guess, I’ve only just finished it (picture below), and only because I had a friend staying with me who encouraged me, in just the right way, to get it done.
Being stuck at home has made me realise that I avoid a lot of things that make me feel uncomfortable, embarrassed, or overwhelmed. Sometimes, I let things sit for long enough, that they begin to feel like Sisyphean tasks, when all it takes is a small push, and the stone will almost roll uphill, on its own.
I’ve managed to get a lot of my “next week” projects done, and that’s been wonderful for my mental health. I’m able to enjoy my living space in a way that I couldn’t before, and that’s made it easier to be stuck here. With that said, however, it’s also taken away my sources of distraction and my ability to waffle on things, to the point where I’m now left having to face reality and deal with my shit.
So here it is… The 5 things that I’m having to deal with:
1. I’m afraid to publish
Part of the reason I’ve taken up writing again is to force myself out of my comfort zone and to start publishing. I’ve put up signs around my home office that read: “No one asked for perfect.”, “Published and imperfect is better than perfect and unpublished.”, “You can’t edit a blank page.”, and “Make it work, release it, then make it good.”
It’s so much easier said than done, but you’re reading this, so clearly, it’s going in the right direction.
2. I don’t know how to have someone in my space
I’m a single man who lives on my own in a large and lovely flat in South London. I spent many years living with other people, but now that I’m on my own, I’ve come to appreciate not having to tidy things, immediately, for example.
A friend of mine is staying with me, as we both live alone, and isolation is better, à deux. We cook together, watch movies, drink wine, and discuss the state of the world, and in many respects, it’s like having a flatmate again, but it’s got me questioning a number of things, like if I was to have a girlfriend that I wanted to live with, would I feel comfortable sharing my space? Would I want to move into something entirely new, or maybe have her move in here? Am I getting to like having my own space and configuration, such that I don’t actually want to share it, in a meaningful way?
3. I feel overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have that’s “almost” there, and am not sure where to begin to pick it up again
If someone comes to me and has a problem, or needs help sorting out their project, I’m more than happy to help and would like to think I’m fairly good at it. When it comes to my own problems or projects, however, I’m overwhelmed by sometimes simple things and feel paralysed, like a deer in the headlights. I know I’m not the only one who feels like that, but I’m feeling the paralysis more and more, of late. Being stuck at home means I can’t go seek outside inspiration, or get a change of scenery; I can’t get a cup of coffee in my favourite little shop in the city, or a beer at that pub that I’ve always loved. As many of you will know, it’s not the coffee or the beer that makes the place great: It’s what you feel, and how it affects you, when you’re in there.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time reading articles, watching youtube videos, and ploughing through exercises to try to reduce that feeling of overwhelm, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I’m writing this post in the hopes that sharing it will help me work through it. I’ll let you know how that goes, in a future post. :)
The one big thing I’ve taken away from this week, after having thought it a number of times before but not having done anything about is, is that I need to find a graphic and UI designer to work with, because I feel like it breaks me. I can build software and applications with the best of them, but when it comes to rendering a design, picking colours, choosing a font, or coming up with a logo, I’m like a four year old with finger paints.
4. When it comes to romantic relationships and partners, I honestly don’t know what I want, and I don’t think I know how to be in a relationship
I’m sure a lot of people are also coming to similar conclusions, given that you can’t be sure what’s going to happen tomorrow, so mortality comes into question. How important is that we feel fulfilled; proud of ourselves; authentic; accepted; respected; admired; loved?
My situation has been very fortunate, in many respects. I’ve been cooped up with a good friend that I get along with, but it’s not been tiring. We have enough space that we can both be on our own, and the weather has been nice enough that we can go outside (we have a small yard where we barbecue, for example). In some respects, our routines would seem somewhat couple-like, from the outside, but they’ve largely been defined by two people who care about each other, taking care of themselves, and one another. It means that we share or split the chores, do what’s necessary, and don’t worry about it too much.
Jas is brilliant, attractive, kind, considerate, and interesting. She’s well-spoken, well-traveled, and a strong and independent spirit. We both know that we want different things, in a longer term sense, so we’ll not bother trying to jam a square peg into a round hole, but being stuck here has forced me to question and reflect on what it is that I want from a partner, and perhaps more importantly, what it is that I want for myself. What is it that I have to offer a partner, and why is that relevant to anyone else? This is likely going to be another post, in future (or perhaps a series of posts), but I’m putting it out there, because I’m sure there are a lot of other people who are feeling the same way and asking themselves the same questions.
5. I’m struggling with the fundamental questions of who I am, what defines me, and how to be authentic/real with the people I care about.
I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on basic questions of who I am, what I value, and how I can express and share that with the world. It’s difficult, at the best of times, but it feels more so when the only (other) company I have is my own.
Being so limited in my social interactions has left me having to look in the mirror a lot more, and wonder about who I want to spend time with, and who would want to spend time with me. More than that, the important question that comes up through all of this is: Why?
When I was 25, I was sure I knew who I was. I’m now approaching 35, and I’m sure that I don’t know who I am, but I can say that I have a pretty good idea, and I guess that’s a start.
Hopefully, as I continue to publish, it’ll help me work through who I am; how I can engage with other people, authentically; how to let people into my space, be it physically, intellectually, emotionally, or perhaps most important of all, creatively; and how to deal with the sense of overwhelm, so it doesn’t paralyse me so.
In some respects, I feel like this whole self-isolation thing has been really good for my mental health, in that it’s taken away a lot of the hustle and bustle, the distractions, and the over-stimulation of modern life. I’ve started putting my phone aside so that I can avoid dealing with the notifications in real time, and it’s been wonderfully freeing. I’m not doing anything that I couldn’t have done before the virus, but I guess the interesting thing will be to see how long it lasts, currently, and whether it continues to benefit me when things return to normal — whatever the new version of normal will be.
I hope that my sharing has helped you feel a bit less isolated, and gives you some sense that you’re not alone in going through all of this. Whether we’re separated by a screen, a thousand miles, or even an ocean, I sincerely hope that in reading these words, you find some degree of the peace and tranquility that I have found in writing them.
Until next time…
