When The World Paused: What a pandemic taught us about living

When The World Paused is a blog which began life on 29 March 2020 to capture reflections on the first lockdown. Over the subsequent few months, 76 people added their voices and it culminated in a book which has now raised more than £550 for NHS charities.

We thought the story of Covid-19 and life in lockdown was coming to an end last summer. But really, there was a lot more to come.  And so, the blog has relaunched to bring together reflections on life during Covid-19 – and what the pandemic has taught us about living.

There are still spaces available for contributors – if you would like to take part, please send us a message via the contact form. We’d love to hear from you as we capture our reflections on this moment in history.

Here’s the first post from this series of When The World Paused reflections:

Monday, 29 March, 2021: Michelle Gant, Norfolk

And they thought it was all over.

Exactly one year ago today, I started a journal to capture the reflections of people when the world paused. Lockdown had just begun in the UK as the novel coronavirus wound its devastating way across the world. I was, like so many others, frightened, uncertain, anxious, and trying to find sense and meaning in the most incredulous period I had ever known.

Writing, I thought, would help. Not only would it allow me to capture the reflections of this moment – which felt imbued with future historical significance – it would also enable me to process my thoughts and feelings in words. It turned out this wouldn’t be a secret diary though as 75 other amazing people joined me in sharing their innermost musings.

The journal closed in June and I turned it into a book to raise funds for NHS charities. It felt like a neat ending; I like things to be ordered. I like too to be able to find the good in any situation, and it certainly felt like through the journal, and subsequent book, that had been achieved.

But it turned out that it wasn’t ‘the end’, and as the Chief Medical Officer had said, it was merely the end of the first phase.

There was more to come.

It was September when the alarm started to buzz. Cases rising. Cases? People.  Mutterings of second waves. I am, by nature, a woman who drinks from a half-filled glass (of wine, often) and so I tried not to be too concerned. Things will work out, I told myself. It will be all right. We’ll be back together by Christmas.

But then things got worse and in November we had our second lockdown. Albeit with the schools still open – thank goodness our children didn’t have to give up their newly found classroom freedom. When we came out of it, my part of the world was in tier two which meant restrictions were a little looser than in other parts of the country. It was ok. I could still see my loved ones. Even if it wasn’t close up.

And then something magical happened.

Question: What is Margaret Keenan famous for?

This was a query I posed in our virtual Christmas Day quiz. And the answer is quite magnificently – she is the very first person in the UK to receive the coronavirus vaccination. On Tuesday 8th December 2020, I cried as I watched the images of this 90 year old lady receive a shot in the arm, a significant victory in the battle against the virus. It was actually happening. Thank you scientists. Thank you NHS.

But what’s the saying? The night is always darkest just before the dawn. Because then things got bad. Really bad.

A new variant, easier to catch. Spreading with speed across the country, particularly in the East of England.  That’s my area. Gulp. Tightened restrictions, and then on 4th January, another lockdown was announced.

Oh my.

We’ve been here before. It’s ok. We’ve got this.

We have.

Only, this time, it’s winter. The days are dark and cold. The news is scary, the numbers of people affected higher. The novelty of lockdown activities of baking, and crafts, of appreciating the time to do and try new things has long since worn off.

This lockdown felt like wading through thick, murky fog.

It was the fear. As acutely demonstrated by a covid test for my poorly and distressed daughter Thea at the start of the year, and the suggestion from medical staff that she had caught the dreaded virus. “But we haven’t been anywhere,” I bemoaned, plaintively. The kindly lady on the phone just murmured in agreement: it didn’t matter, this strain could reach you however careful you were. Thank goodness, she was negative (and eating ice-cream again within hours).

It was the sadness. Those numbers. As I type, over 126,000 people in this country have died with Covid-19. The pain of those left behind is unfathomable. May they find comfort.

It was the missing. This past week we marked one year since the first lockdown with a national day of reflection. I realised it’s well over a year since I’ve hugged my parents or my sisters or my friends.

It was the weariness. It’s just so exhausting, trying to keep hopeful and positive when waves of bad news and negativity keep washing up onto your shore. I hit a low point around February half term when I just felt so tired and defeated with trying to offer Thea anything but my dodgy arts and crafts by way of entertainment. Which brings me onto…..

It was the guilt. The constant nagging feeling that I wasn’t doing enough, worrying about the impact of all of this on poor little Thea. When she said to me: “I don’t like the video calls. I just want to huggle people,” I felt so proud of her eloquent self-awareness, and terrible that her little arms ached so for those she loves.

But.

Whilst there has been so much awfulness in the last year, there has been so much good stuff too. And a pandemic has taught me so many things about living.

Firstly, life is happening. Right now. And even when it’s not shaped the way you’d hope, it’s there for the living. Grab on to it, and carpe the diem out of it. That was why for my birthday earlier this month I had an amazing virtual party – I found myself saying “next year, I’ll have a party.” “Next year,” doesn’t exist. But now, right here, does. So squeeze every drop of pleasure out of it that you possibly can.

And life isn’t certain. In any way shape or form. So just go with it. Accept it as it is in all its mixed up, confused glory and who knows what nuggets of gold you might find down amongst the dirt.

Fears are there to be overcome. Over the last year, the most frightening one I’ve known, I’ve come to realise that what scares us should never defeat us. I’m not fearless, I still have things that frighten me, but I know that I can deal with anything. It’s why this year I’ve started trying to do one thing out of my comfort zone every day.

You don’t need to sit beside people to feel close to them. The two-metre rule has not prevented me from feeling connected to more people than ever before: we’re all in this thing together. There has been so much virtual looking out for each other that has brought us closer.

That we are capable of so much more than we can ever conceive. Like my husband Bobby, who has been an absolute home-schooling hero, devoting himself every lockdown weekday to our daughter’s education with tender attention and care.

And the things that I always thought mattered, the material stuff, bears little value to that which is really important in my world.

Today marks a further easing of the restrictions. Six people can now meet up outside together. And hopefully this is another step on the road towards a resumption – of a fashion – of our former lives.

So, one more time, we’re going to capture what happened when the world paused, and look ahead as we share our thoughts on what a pandemic taught us about living…..