Isolation Motivation
Weāre three weeks into official lockdown, so Iām not going to patronise and assume nobody has seen these kind of posts on Instagram:
Well, you lack the basic empathic skills to make you a canny lad, Farrah.
I donāt know anyone who can speak fluent mandarin after a month in quarantine. I also donāt know anyone who can learn how to install a flush skirting board in their bathroom after three weeks of bashing their heads against the wall from trying to teach their own kids, either. When was the last time anyoneĀ started a business in only six weeks, whilst also realising their new boyfriend, who theyāve subsequently been trapped with, is in fact the most sinfully boring person who ever had the audacity to be born (isolation increases the use of hyperbole). Never mind this all happening in the midst of one of the worst economic health crisesā in recent history?!Ā
Obviously, Farrah has started his particular side hustle as a mandarin-speaking joiner already. Good luck to him. All the best. Take care.
The fact is, the best of us are either on the front line, risking their lives to save others, or risking their lives getting us about on public transport, or teaching their kids geometry or some-shit, whilst also bouncing a baby in the palm of their hand and taking the dog for a walk six times a day. If you have time to focus on those goals, like learning a new language, or starting that book you promised yourself youād write, or organising your photo albums, or finally learning the meaning of the off-side rule, then fill your boots. What does Farrah think weāre all doing? Sitting around with our thumbs up our arses, staring at the ceiling? Itās really the arrogance of those posts that really wind me up, as if theyāre the font of all knowledge and inspiration and theyāve deigned to let us see what the good life looks like. Rude.
If you finally have the time to breathe, go for walks, cook, and just survive through this thing, then that is okay too. Christ, we all work hard enough, donāt we deserve to take this time off from the demands of such a fast paced modern world? It takes zero prisoners. We might not get another opportunity to put our feet up and not feel guilty about it,Ā for the rest of our lives. The last time I felt like this, it was the summer holidays and I was fourteen. Most adults donāt see this kind of respite until theyāre pensioners.
Weāre all different. Some of us thrive on keeping ourselves busy, giving ourselves jobs and lining up support systems for those in need, or volunteering, or just getting that peeling garden set sanded and painted again, or cleaning out the fridge of old jars of spam and failed sourdough starters from three months ago. But some of us, who find the world and the competitive road weāre all herded on each and every day, overwhelming, and so itās a welcome and quiet reprieve.Ā
Itās time to slow down and breathe, and I repeat, not feel guilty about it.
Breathe. Eat. Sleep. Stretch. Repeat.
Not to mention, all the while this is going on in our brain-boxes, hundreds of people are dying every day in the UK. Itās rising everyĀ day. This is a time unseen for most of us. The global anxiety level is high. I have to do what I can to establish a routine, make the most of this time I have, but check in with those numbers every day to remember, this isnāt a state paid holiday. I have personally always maintained that life is a balance, anyone reading my blog would agree. This time that has either been gifted or forced upon it (a bit of both, Iād concede), is no different.Ā
Itās important to remember that the people who are trying to influence us arenāt helping us; theyāre feeling better about themselves.Ā Instagram, especially. The platform exists so we can reach out and find validation, some praise for being humans. Thatās the basic psychology behind it. Itās not even the more grandiose aspects of the platform that personally irritate me. Itās the mundane. āI colour- coded and ordered my bookshelf!āĀ Thank you for that picture. Well done. Itās a bookshelf. Iām happy that itās colour coded, I really am, it is satisfying to see, but I donāt need to know about it. What you did was sit for an hour or so and colour code your books. That shit isnāt stuff we see in Oscar winning movies. Seeing it on Twitter or Instagram, though, makes me feel guilty that my own bookshelf is not colour coded. Even though I couldnāt give a tiny mouses mitten whether it is or not. Iām suddenly hyper aware that my bookshelf is disordered, and a wave of displaced anxiety arises. Should I order my bookshelf? Am I wasting time? Should my bookcase be disordered? Yes. Itās the way I like it.Ā This is coming from a person who takes great pride and personal relief from tidying. I love tidying. I love ordering stuff, and I canāt relax after work until everything is in its place. But do you see me posting about it on instagram? No. Why? Because while I believe in those small, beautiful meditations, whether thatās colour-coding a bookshelf, making a coffee in the morning, writing in a journal; itās personal. As soon as we start posting about those moments, weāre diluting the experience and it no longer has any resonance, because youāre doing it for someone else instead of yourself. Yes, we might get some gratification from it, but why does someone need to see that I cooked a beautiful meal for me to know, that, well... I cooked a beautiful meal? I have to be so careful to remember that someone elseās life and someone elseās grievances are not my own. This is the trouble with social media, in general. Itās a hive mind. Once youāre logged in, other peopleās experiences becomes yours, thrust upon you, whether you wanted it or not. So you did one small workout this morning, feeling good, right? But that other slim, tanned, beautiful, make-upped person did two. Plus a run. With intervals. And a fruit smoothie afterwards. Christ, is anything we do good enough? The influencers who are posting from home about how to stay fit and keep the pounds off, theyāre only wanting to feel better about themselves. It has nothing to do with you. If someone is lauding that shit all over you, and youāre quite happy wondering what kind of a potato you are, then unfollow, fren.
At the end of the day, if we come out of this a little bit fitter, or a few pounds heavier, it doth not matter a fuck. Whatās important is that we come out of this thing alive.
While we can roll our eyes at these accounts, itās also vital to know that a lot of people with the time to do all this stuff can probably afford to. Once you see it, itās very hard not to notice how out of touchĀ they can be. Personally, I have a safety net. Iām being looked after by my employers, I have some savings, my outgoings are small. So Iām trying to learn french. But others, arenāt so lucky. Theyāre either still working in a Co-op, or working from home, or have lost their jobs due to bad bosses (who will be named and shamed after this, Iām sure), and are too busy applying for universal credit to spend their spare minutes worrying whether theyāve learned a new skill or not.Ā This is where Iām coming to my next point. If someone is capitalising on this, whether itās selling weight loss shakes, reusable gloves or masks for a high profit, theyāre not influencers or half way decent people. Itās one thing to get by, creating work where we can get it (I set up a Patreon), and weāre quite happy to take what comes from people who can afford it. But itās quite another to profit from a disaster like this. I might be okay for a couple of months. But if this stretches on until 2021, Iām not sure where Iām going to be.Ā So forgive me for not having time for holier-than-thou posts about how we ought to be spending this time isolating. Iām too busy regretting the time Iām missing with my friends, my family, sad that I canāt celebrate getting engaged (I got engaged) with my loved ones, sad for my friends whoāve had to cancel their own weddings, sad for friends who are losing work and money, whose businesses might crash. Lives. The economy is crashing, France is in recession, and here Iāve got Billy Big Balls telling me Iām not disciplined enough to achieve my goals.Ā
Thereās a lot going on right now. The most important thing, human contact, and the people we love, thatās what we need the most. Not a new bloody skill.
So breathe. Eat. Sleep. Stretch. Repeat.Ā
If thatās all you can do, do it. Just staying home, weāre saving lives. We might not know it. But we are.
Can you imagine coming out the other end of this, the world opening again, only to find our favourite pubs and coffee shops closing due to a financial crash, unemployment sky rocketing, not to mention the lines of funerals of people who have died, and Great Farrah of the Dick Swinging comes out of his bubble, speaking mandarin and profiting from his new business, telling us all that we wasted our time?
Jesus. Talk about tone-deaf.
Breathe. Eat. Sleep. Stretch. Repeat.Ā













