Many, many phrases have come into my mind lately as I struggle with the isolation incurred by the threat of Covid-19 – namely that “the cure is worse than the disease” but also Nietzsche’s sage warning of the danger of staring into the abyss and the abyss staring back at you.
I don’t do well being cooped up. My mental health is taking a pummelling.
The words of Helen Steiner Rice's oft quoted poem, This Too Shall Pass, have become something of a mantra for me in the past couple of weeks as I've tried to adjust myself to a life that feels as if it is telescoping downwards on a daily basis.
Every morning now, mentally willing the power of repetition to inform and calm my bewildered psyche, I stand staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and chant:
If I can but keep on believing
What I know in my heart to be true,
That darkness will fade with the morning
And that this will pass away, too
According to psychologists, whether you are disposed to believe it or not, constant repetition will trick your brain into taking what you’re saying as gospel and inform your body’s billions of cells accordingly.
Personally, listening to The Prodigy's Firestarter at 10+ is more in tune with my inner turmoil at present but I tried chanting a la Keith Flint at the mirror and it did not have the desired calming effect on my central nervous system.
After returning from a work trip to Pittsburgh, which was unceremoniously cut short due to Trump's flight ban, I'm currently on lockdown with my parents who are in their 70s. With a lengthy list of medical conditions between us we are classed as "highly vulnerable" and going more than slightly stir crazy thanks to this newly imposed (but I am sick of repeating, temporary) world order.
There is a lot of snapping (mainly me) and voluble sighing (mainly my mum and dad) as neither of them are used to me being there during the daytime and my tolerance for being indoors generally runs out at 9am at the best of times.
A few weeks of being on severely restricted manoeuvres and watching for signs of this cursed illness have left our hands burned from sanitisers and our nerves in a similar condition.
Cabin fever is already a reality as we try to hide away from the virus that continues to put normal life increasingly on hold.
After being initially immersed in the tsunami of “Covid-19 – What you need to know” articles and bleak alerts of more and more deaths around the world, I’m now consciously eschewing news updates for my favourite dance music as I work, and ignoring the barrage of bulletins that serve no purpose other than to greatly unnerve me.
My dad escapes with old war movies. My mum listens to Joe Duffy. I remind myself that when the time comes I'm retiring to a garret in Paris where I fully intend to live out my dotage wearing pearls and dresses held up only by my lipstick.
I wonder why there’s so much resistance to self-isolation among the 30-somethings and ensuing generations. Normally, so many of them exist for each other only via social media and are so focused on their phone screens that they have developed the unerring ability to stride through crowded streets with nary an upward glance. Now that social media is our chief form of sanitised communication, they’re moaning about not being able to get outside.
Our familiar daily routine, with whatever status that incurs in the office, has been taken away and with it our ability to 'adult' successfully
Psychotherapist Marie Walshe, clinical director of Leeson Analytic, specialises in counselling for families, couples, adolescents and children. She advises that it is the imposing of a strict daily work/life structure and the self-discipline to maintain it which will get each of us through these times.
“Initially our reaction is to infantilise ourselves in direct response to the situation,” she explains. “Our familiar daily routine, with whatever status that incurs in the office, has been taken away and with it our ability to ‘adult’ successfully.
“Suddenly we’re at home and we resort to not getting showered or dressed because we’re not going to the office. It’s like holiday mode but no one is in a good mood because it’s enforced, and holidays are something we can’t even visualise as a possibility in the foreseeable future.
“We’re worried for the lives of those we hold dear, unsure about the future of our employment, the bills keep coming in, we can longer go out and blow off steam. Death used to be a nebulous far-off concept; now it could be stalking us in the street.
"So we stay up late binge watching Netflix and box-sets, we eat rubbish and drink too much alcohol, all to the omnipotent background soundtrack warning of an invisible virus spreading and killing people. We do all these things as a short-term means of coping because we are essentially looking for a parent to teach us how to cope in this apparent new world order which is frightening and unfair and totally overwhelming in its strangeness."
It was time for me to stop throwing the toys out of the cot and get on with the altered business of living
After two weeks of moaning that it’s not fair, excess teeth-grinding resulting from a steady diet of news and social media, and the siege mentality this fosters, I realised we were all still very much alive in our house and it was time for me to stop throwing the toys out of the cot and get on with the altered business of living.
“Consciously taking back control, following the rules for hygiene and social distancing and/or self-isolating and adopting a rational attitude will actually lower your anxiety levels,” Walshe advises.
“What we cannot afford to do at this point is let fear take over along with mistrust of people as both these things lead to a total loss of empathy and we need empathy to get through this together.
“Forging new habits takes three weeks of repetition before they just become normal practice,” she explains.
Tips for our new way of living
Structure both your and your children’s day. Get up, shower, get dressed, have breakfast together and have set hours for work and relaxation. This does not mean sitting around the kitchen table en masse; let the kids work there while you work in separate rooms. Close the doors. Respect each other’s work space
Keep your mind active and distracted from “siege” mentality. Do the jobs you’ve been putting off if you are not busy with work. Use this time in seclusion to improve your life instead of constantly telling yourself you’re a victim whose life is in a holding position without you having any control over your future.
Aim to come out of this hiatus from normality armed with something new: stronger relationships, a new skill, a new hobby, a new appreciation for your life.
Continue to shop healthily and eat properly. Cut back on sugar and alcohol as this will just leave you feeling lethargic and grumpy.
Get out in the fresh air for regular exercise.
Create a “mental health kit” which has something in it to feed each of your senses – your favourite scent, music, clothes, food, memories, pictures, books. Music plays a huge role in keeping us motivated and positive. Now’s the perfect time to exploit that to its fullest. Put on your headphones, go for a walk and turn up the volume.
Create date nights with your partner. The New York Met is streaming operas weekly. Get dressed up and arrange to meet in front of the TV for pre-show drinks before you “attend” the performance. Go on a virtual tour of some of the world’s most famous museums with your kids and open your mind up to new experiences that transcend the walls surrounding you.
There is nothing to be achieved by listening to every news report or reading every update on your phone. Listen to the news at 1pm and 6pm but keep classical music playing in the background in between. It’s been proven in trials to have a calming effect.
Ban all talk of “the situation” at mealtimes, whether you have children or not. Challenge yourselves to find other, happier, or at least more interesting things to talk about. Distraction is hugely important for calming anxiety and fear and frustration.
Walshe is also calling on TV programmers to play their part by starting to show more of our old nostalgic favourites – Only Fools and Horses, The Irish R.M., Father Ted. “We need the comfort of these shows now. We need to laugh and reconnect with those happy, carefree, feelings.
“We could learn a lot from the French,” she says, “At 6pm they collectively throw open their windows and clap; the Italians go a step further and sing from their balconies. It’s a wonderful reflection of the strength and resilience of the human spirit. The determination to come together and thrive in times of adversity.”
Yes, this hard time will pass and we all await the day when it’s no longer an abhorrent social gaffe to sneeze or just hug each other or gather en masse or dust off our passports, blithely book a holiday and look forward once again to experiencing foreign climes without fear. But one hopes that certain things will remain with us and that the closeness and reawakened sense of community this contagion brought into our lives will be the silver lining which continues to shine brightly.
Séamus Heaney’s eloquent words have already become the most repeated mantra for so many of us trying to cheer each other on via social media – “If we can winter this one out we can summer anywhere.”
I know I, along with many of my friends, am already planning my itinerary.
