A Midyear Catch-Up
And so, it’s June! I came into 2021, fully aware that this year would be just as uncomfortable as the last. That “normalcy” is something we could perhaps expect in 2022. That on a personal level, it’s going to be uncomfortable too because lockdowns, social distancing, and forming small social bubbles have become synonymous with loads and loads of introspection for me. It’s pretty much what I said in my “Goodbye 2020?” post too. Yet, I was still fairly surprised when I declared on Instagram stories a few weeks ago that if there’s one word I would use to describe 2021 so far, it would be “growth”. It’s been interesting for me that I’m experiencing things I thought would only be possible outside of a pandemic. I’ve lost a friendship, only to forge another closer. I had a ghost from the past, I’ve become aware of my fertility more than ever before. I ripped things out of my vision board, things I’ve had for 5 years, and despite living through a pandemic, I’ve actually learned to manage my moods better. I’ve learned about boundaries, pleasing my inner child and the difference between self-care and selfishness. And I’ve learned the single most important lesson of my life – I need to stop being everything for everyone all the time. It has been such a hard thing to unlearn as the eldest daughter in a South Asian family. To be honest, it was a little cool being the Swiss Army knife of relationships – the planner, the cheerleader, the metaphorical shoulder. But what’s the point if you’re nothing to yourself. You don’t even have to be everything for yourself, but shouldn’t you mean something? Why does that have to come at the expense of giving another relationship precedence? And that has been so freeing.
There has been so much personal growth and epiphanies I would usually only experience maybe once or twice a year at best. And now, there’s an avalanche of them. Sometimes they snowball into one after another, almost crushing me with the reality. And I’m just riding them out, calmly accepting them as I stand in the train during my morning commute. As I run a regression analysis. As I lay awake on an insomniac night. And I find myself looking back at who I was two years ago, a year ago, and sometimes even a month ago like, “I’m so different and yet … so much the same?” How is that even possible?
Back in February, they had just started rolling out vaccines in Singapore. Working in healthcare, I was very lucky and very privileged to access it that very same month. I was so full of optimism after my second shot, “knowing” to my core that better days were around the corner. I was all “AH! Humankind prevails! We have managed to find a vaccine for this PANDEMIC within A YEAR! Look at us ROLL!” I was so content with my theory that humans always find a way to be happy and comfortable, to be back on our feet.
Enter more intense mutations, more civil rights issues, third waves, and general blah-ness. Some of these are so much closer to home, with the new variant being a way for some of the racist attitudes people have had and racists to percolate. I worry that my reaction to it is only pure anger and disgust, with a complete lack of surprise. We entered a version of lockdown mid-May during this time and that cued all the grocery hoarding yet again. Having lived through this for a year and a half now, can someone explain the significance of toilet papers to me, please? Surely, I must be missing something because my understanding is that as long as you have running water, you should be fine. You can be hygienic and sanitary. But when I see entire aisles wiped (hey!) of toilet papers, I can’t help but wonder, “Should I be loading up on toilet paper?” Why is that the ultimate need during a pandemic?
As I see reports and news of these all unfold, I find myself thinking, “Compassion is becoming an incredibly rare quality.” I feel like I should have known better in February. That all this wouldn’t have ended as quickly as it suddenly seemed it could. Yet, I still have the same undying optimism in me. That surely, people are out there falling in love right now. That there’s beauty in the grass I see every day and that the full moon this month looks prettier than the full moon last month for some reason. That these are the things that have to matter when we surely, surely, make it out of all this one day.
I think the bulk of the issue is a lack of certainty. Everything feels so random and loose. I have been thinking about doing ~something~ for my birthday this year as I’m hitting 30. Just to celebrate the milestone and the joy of living even though I’m not one to fuss about birthdays or throw big parties. But, as I’m writing this post, Singapore has no dine-in. Even though we may allow dining in again from later this month, who knows where we would be in November! Meanwhile, I have November’s content for thendraluthaman.com and my Instagram planned to the T, but I have no idea what July’s content is going to be like.
Which is why I’ve thrown myself at books and movies. The routine of maybe watching a movie on Fridays and definitely reading a book on Sundays. The plus side is, this is a “goal” I’m on track to “achieve” for 2021. I told myself 3 books and 3 movies per month. So, at the end of May, I should have finished 15 books and 15 movies, right? Well, I’ve finished 14 books and I’m also working my way through Michelle Obama’s Becoming (it’s a process) so all good there. Movies? I had to cheat a little by sneaking in entire seasons of TV shows. I really don’t think I can hit that goal otherwise! I mean, movies have just started coming out. And so, I’m at 13 right now. A little behind, but nothing too bad either. And if you ask me, I’ve not been resorting to these purely out of the need for escapism, but also because these are the 2 things I can control in my life. My week could be complete shit, but I know I always have an incredible book waiting for me on Sunday. In the comfort of my bed that acts as the constant and the bridge between my pre-pandemic life and my current, with a cup of coffee brewed just the way I like. Four to eight hours of another world, another life, another reality. And if I don’t like it, there’s always another book or movie. Another portal.
Yes, this pandemic has been all-consuming and is almost starting to define the way I see life. Even though it has only been around for a smaller part of my life and only in recent memory. Like, sometimes I look at an old photo of myself and think “Where’s my MASK?!” in utter horror only to realise that was my pre-pandemic life where masks were just something I wore when I went down to the A&E at my workplace. As compared to something like sitting in an aeroplane. That’s something I used to do every year and now I don’t even remember what aeroplanes smell like or what aeroplane seats feel like. Especially the smell of this disinfectant they would spray in Air India while we were all on board and before landing as part of India’s health rules. I remember it being pungent and upsetting. I think I’ve experienced it in my nightmares. Now it’s the ghost of a memory. I know all this is NOTHING compared to what some people have to go through. And that having none of my loved ones encounter Covid-19, for us all to still have money coming in enough to support ourselves, and to still have each other already places us in the “lucky” group. Yet, there’s a small part of me that goes “So, am I not allowed to say this is unbearable AT ALL then?”
At that point, I force myself to take 3 deep breaths because I can feel my heart starting to race and there’s nothing I can do but to slow my heart rate down first anyway.
Inhaaaaale for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Hold.
Exhaaaaale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
And repeat.
Anddd one last time.
It’s not meditation per se but phew! The difference is SIGNIFICANT.
Now, what was I talking about again? I don’t even remember. Probably something about how the world’s gone tits up either way sooooo oh look – the sun is setting! Let’s see if there are pastel clouds.
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