Easter Monday, and the near-by hills are veiled in mist, low cloud and swirling hail-stones. Yesterday their sky-line was dense with silhouettes of walkers, cyclists, runners, and the sky above them swirled with multicoloured parachutes and their dangling navigators.
We live with unpredictability, all of us, and sometimes see safety being sacrificed to opportunity - the chance of a crowded get-together in the sunshine versus the risk of infection, the chance of airing the parachute versus the chance of a freak gust of wind. Sometimes it feels quite like the Good/Bad/Dangerous Old Days; a bit of 'let's grab the opportunity', 'let's do it before Someone stops us again', 'it's going to snow tomorrow - let's do it today'.
In my younger days (a long time ago) I valued opportunity and generally went for it at full-tilt and occasionally at some risk to myself. I had a few somewhat alarming experiences and never mentioned them to anyone, knowing I might be prevented from having such adventures again. Health-and-Safety and Mental-Health were not on anyone's agenda in those days. No one knew such things existed, let alone tiptoed around the mine-fields that they have become. Risk assessment? What was that? Looking back I'm quite surprised that I'm still here but I have no regrets about any of my past adventures. Well, hardly any. I still haven't told anyone though.
What I didn't see coming was caution, concern, a low-level anxiety, even a small measure of what can only be called timidity. How truly awful; how cramping of the life-style. And now I have to think, 'what life-style?'
I'm so fortunate, so appreciative of having had two doses of Pfizer. Genuinely fortunate, genuinely appreciative, and still the kind, caring, sheets of information come, signed by Matt (Hancock) who is fast becoming my most faithful and regular correspondent. I feel cared about, protected, thought about - and fearful. Still hugely appreciative, but also aware that I am no longer able to be true to myself.
This is a time like no other. I have very vague memories of War Time. I was born shortly after The War started - the Second World War, that is. But my memory tells me that shops were open, cinemas too. I went to see Snow White and Lassie Come Home and had to be removed from both in floods of noisy tears by my embarrassed mother, making vivid memories of an afternoon in 1945. There was rationing, there were no bananas, no new clothes, the only toys were homemade. But we, my small gang of girls and I were free agents when out of school, and never once was there a term-time weekday when school wasn't open. Bombs fell, people died, bad things happened but life went on for some of us in the most unbridled and adventurous way.
It was never on my horizon to become an anxious old woman but that's what seems to be happening. As the external situation seems to be improving my internal one splutters and fails. My anxieties are all for others, a category now constantly referred to as 'loved ones'. I've been vaccinated but I know that I could still infect others, unknowingly, stealthily dangerous.
I have been informed many times that I'm in a position of extreme vulnerability and now I'm afraid that I feel it, and I don't know how to escape from it. The Shielding Category officially ended on the first of April, but not for the shielded who are advised to continue as far as possible.
I really didn't intend to become old and anxious.
Sorry, Loved Ones!
P.S. The cure for timidity seems to be driving on three motorways twice each (for completely valid and essential reasons). Encountering hurtling lorries seems surprisingly good for Mental Health.
Pirate feels the same.
ReplyDeleteHe feels very anxious in shops, so I do all the ordinary shopping...but I do insist that he pays for the fuel when we feed the car,and he gets our paper on Saturdays and any prescription that needs collection. Without that push he would be isolated.
Neither of us like crowds anyway, but when you think that we are both well travelled...
I am so sorry to read this.
ReplyDeleteAnd know that you are not alone. We have been lucky here, but anxiety and its cousin timidity still thrive.
I suspect it will be some weeks before I get my first dose of vaccine. In the interim I interact with others as little as possible. I also worry that these habits (which suit the antisocial side of me) will become set in stone.
gz: Pirate is lucky to have you there for the occasional push. I was looking back at my rather adventurous life, and I'm trying to be very thankful that I've lived it to the full (most of the time, anyway!) All good wishes to Pirate and to you.
ReplyDeleteEC: Thank you for your comment. It is the thought that I could allow myself to remain in this state that is my concern. Life could be so easily lived in isolation with the convenience of everything being available on-line now. 'Set in stone' creates a too-strong image. I send my best wishes to you, too.
You said that so well. It has been an anxious year and there has been a lot of pain. I am ready now because of vaccinations to take on some of the world, but I do it with caution.
ReplyDeleteI told my oldest granddaughters about one of my adventures from the times when I was young and ignored fear. She was surprised and laughed and saw me in a different light. I wasn't Grandma Cookie Maker, I was a person who had tasted life.
Maybe the advantage of being a fearful child is not missing that normal sense of childhood invincibility. I got braver much later in life, but it didn't come naturally.
ReplyDeleteMy greatest fear in all this was that I would be a vector. Turns out I had it a year ago December, before they knew it was here, before there was a test.
The latest news is that the Phizer and Moderna vaccines do provide good coverage, making you very unlikely to pass it on. Go and be adventurous.
Starting Over: It's so difficult for young people to accept that parents and (especially) grandparents were once young, active and even adventurous . Sometimes it's difficult even for grannies to remember as well. After writing the above posting I've driven on a series of motorways and spent a few nights in a different bed. I can still drive. I can still travel - who'd have thought it!
ReplyDeleteZhoen: I'm sorry, but very interested to know you were a vector before the cause had officially arrived. I wonder how many others may find themselves in the same situation.
I went and was adventurous!
You always sound the least anxious and most sensible person I (don't actually) know! Motorway driving is beyond me - not because I'm old, just because I'm terrified. But I'm not particularly anxious about the virus, though probably should be. How splendid you are!
ReplyDeletePam: thank you for reading and commenting. I can assure you that there's nothing splendid about me. The practicalities of being alone mean that you just have to get on with it. It has also meant that I find I can do things that surprise me!
ReplyDeleteAs for motorways, I think (and hope) that they can be safer for a woman driving alone than a dark and winding country lane with ditches either side. However, I always have Satnav active so that anyone would know where I've started from and where I hope to finish.
I went through a feeling of great anxiety - but BEFORE I got the vaccinations. I am glad that you are feeling your way out of it now. It sounds to me as if it must have been a temporary blip!
ReplyDelete