WORDS by Veronika Makovey-Carafa

Another lockdown where we’ve been sent off to our rooms/homes - much like a grounded teenager, protesting at the injustice of it all, yelling at our parents (the government) about how they just don’t get it… we didn’t do anything wrong. But regardless of our protests deep down we know that our parents know what is right and can make decisions about our lives for our own good.

And so we distract ourselves with podcasts, tv shows, music and games, recipes and food. God, so much food! Ironically my best friend is writing her masters thesis on the associations between self-esteem and our eating habits. My own habits have made me an ideal study candidate. The thing with food is, it will always taste good, it won’t let you down and it won’t change on you; unless of course you burn it or cook it incorrectly, but that’s on you.

I’ve been listening to two or three podcasts each day, thinking that it’s an efficient use of my time. Look at me walking and learning whilst also texting back people I’ve left hanging for longer than the socially deemed acceptable amount of time. But a thought occurred to me the other day: can I actually recall the topics and opinions of those I have listened to this week? No. Yesterday? No.

So maybe I haven’t been listening to these podcasts to learn but rather as a pure distraction from my everyday existence. An entertaining distraction sure, but what have I actually been retaining? It was only until my earpods ran out of battery 40 minutes away from home and I was left with nothing but the road ahead did I really listen to my thoughts buzzing around like Summer flies who had wafted in with the open door. My mind seemed to race around from one thought to the next muddling themselves until they resembled that old necklace you thought you’d lost, got momentarily excited about finding, then emotionally torn as you’ve noticed its neglect had resulted in multiple tiny knots that you have to attend to and untie this instant.

Working through my thoughts on that 40 minute walk home was painful, as clearly I was out of practice, but it resulted in some insights and the moments of clarity left me feeling lighter and charged to act, set about a game plan, write a list of some sort. Something that was within my grasp to control.

I’ve come to realise now that I haven’t so much been experiencing grief with each lockdown but rather heartbreak. I’ve broken up with my future visions of what I thought my near future would look like. Much like with any break up, a year on, no family member or friend wants to hear about my epiphanies and emotions, these have been left to the void; unable to be processed. But were all those trips and travel adventures a distraction too? What is it that I was running away from? Or searching for?

But like those wise parents might say, ‘everything happens for a reason’. It was only really until I really sat in my thoughts and emotions. Come to accept this normal, less extravagant and exciting reality, that I’ve come to realise how great my life is - not because I’ll be flying to Morocco in two months time but because it’s become this culmination of small precious moments of hearing my son laugh for the first time, delicate caresses from a man I know will be there for years to come and this little life we are building together.

Although Morocco would be kind of nice too.