More precisely, the resulting lockdown and how it changed my perspective.
I’m trying to recall what got me here 11 years ago; the things that motivated me to create this space on the internet for the things that oozed from my mind.
I remember there was no nervousness about what I wrote. The anxiety was more tied to how it would be received. How people would react or if they would at all. I wasn’t cautious with words because it was a time when I felt positive about existence – a mix of youth, naivety, reckless abandon and a sense that doing and saying more meant being more.
I was wrong.
Being more isn’t just about action. It’s about making progressively better choices. Since I started this blog, many things – good and bad – have come to pass. Some out of my control, many from my own mistakes.
I found myself at age 29, a depressed, debt-ridden alcoholic in denial about the bad choices I had made and all the things I hadn’t achieved with my life. I had convinced myself that I never wanted a normal life and this was the result.
In fact, not wanting an ordinary life is okay – we can all dream, loathe, etc., but I had turned myself into a pendulum, swinging between good days and bad days. I was too comfortable with a destructive cycle because I didn’t want to confront how much I hated my life or how lonely I was (am), and how I had stopped growing or moving forward.
And then some people in Wuhan, China, were diagnosed with a virus that quickly spread to become a global pandemic and a few weeks into the lockdown I’m sitting on the floor of my balcony at 2 am with a knife resting on my forearm, thinking where’d the hope go.
That last part is bullshit. There is no profound thought at that point. It’s just the crushing weight of dread and despair mixed with a deep foreboding and flashes of how people who care will react to the news. It’s a lonely place but one that ice cold water running over your head and face, can rescue you from.
Not to say that things miraculously got better in the aftermath and I disappeared to a mountain-top monastery to free my Chi, but cut out from my normal routine of visiting the pub to forget about it; imprisoned at home with no alcohol to wash away the soot as usual, I was able to think of it with more clarity.
This is why I’m grateful to the pandemic’s lockdown.
It took away the escape routes, the shortcuts, the distractions. It gave me time and space to reflect on what my life meant. It left me with my senses and forced me to become more familiar with myself and grow to be more aware of the different ingredients of my existence.
It led me to the realisation that I’ll never know self-love but that it’s no excuse to add to any present and future suffering or regrets of the people I love and who might love me back. I reached 30 mainly through the efforts of one person and some of the efforts of others.
Can’t change for yourself? Change for someone else. Grow for whatever reason forces you to not stagnate.
I’ve spent many hours typing this post. There was a time when I would rather lose a finger than cut off any words I had typed, but over the course of this day, dozens of paragraphs have been added and deleted to get here, and that’s where all of it connects, my life and writing.
I have learned over time that editing is just as important as writing. It’s how you enrich a sentence and preserve its soul.
The pandemic’s lockdown saved my life because it helped me understand that the more I am willing and prepared to edit the different parts of my life, the better it is for those who are part of the story and those who read it.
A note on mental health
It’s okay to talk about it and seek help if you or someone you know is experiencing any mental health issues. You can seek assistance by calling the following:
Crisis Support Service: 1333
Sumithrayo: 0112 696 666
Shanthi Maargam: 0717 369 898
National Mental Healthline: 1926
Libertad 