Every time I look on Instagram or Facebook I am confronted with something marvellous.
Someone has learnt to crochet and has created an entire village of play toys. The epic DIY creations, IKEA beds into fairy princess castles with nothing but a hammer. People learning languages. Further education. New skills.
And of course the wonderful tweet that went viral…
If you don’t come out of this quarantine with either:— Jeremy Haynes (@TheJeremyHaynes) April 2, 2020
1.) a new skill
2.) starting what you’ve been putting off like a new business
3.) more knowledge
You didn’t ever lack the time, you lacked the discipline
Isn’t that just delightful?
And here I am.
Just busy doing nothing
I have no idea where my days go, between trying to cajole the boys into homeschooling, dividing my attention between the three of them, and trying to devise ways to stay inside as the heat ramps up that don’t involve them being on screens for a large portion of the day because let me tell you when that happens they turn feral. FERAL.
Each day I (try!) to wake up motivated, enthused, and have grand plans for writing, applying for jobs, updating my CV, working on something for my brain.
Then it turns out it’s 9pm and I am sat on the couch with a block of toblerone and less energy than a sloth.
I don’t want to go run.
I don’t want to fire up my laptop and bash out the next viral post, tweet, Facebook photo.
I lack the energy, but not the time.
And yet I feel as though all I am busy with is, well, nothing.
I am not setting the world alight
Or even homeschool alight for that matter. The work is done and it’s getting harder and harder to motivate them without bribes of Hairbo.
My 5 year old is refusing to write. My 7 year old hides under our kitchen island in an attempt to stop any form of school. And the 18 month old? He is waging a war of terror with just him and a tennis racket.
Yet I still don’t seem to have the time to pick up a new talent. Or even an old talent.
The days merge into one, groundhog, relentless.
Same old, same old.
The total lockdown blues. Or lockdown rage depending what way you look at me.
And, of course, there are pockets of normality. There are even moments of sheer joy.
But they feel few and far between.
It just feels like we’re on a giant hamster wheel, endless running, going nowhere. Being busy doing NOTHING.
And I know the apathy is related to being confined, claustrophobic even. To knowing I can’t leave the country if I want to get back in. The heat rising and the children struggling.
And I know that the reasons for lockdown are right. That to stay home and stay safe is a privilege.
But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.
And it doesn’t stop it being the same old sh*t, different day.
I won’t be coming out of lockdown with a new skill, having started what I’ve been putting off or more knowledge (unless you include that I now know 179 different ways to disguise vegetables in my children’s dinner so they will eat them.)
And that’s OK.
And if you ARE coming out of lockdown with any of those, that’s OK too.
What lockdown has highlighted to me, even within my own family, is that everyone has different issues surrounding being lockdown, different pressure points and different ways of coping.
So until then. I will have grand ideas, I will try to do them. But if I don’t? Then that’s OK, I am OK being busy doing nothing.