My Coronavirus Diaries: London Lockdown Day 10

Today I am sad. I woke up sad and I stayed sad throughout the day. And I allowed myself to be sad. I sat on the sofa with my sadness all day long and that was absolutely fine. I will end this day and I will try again tomorrow.

Last night I had an anxiety attack. It started at 11 pm. I couldn’t sleep and I was getting more anxious by the minute, worrying that I would end up not sleeping all night and ruin my routine. Until it hit me: I was fighting my anxiety instead of riding it out and I should have known better, it’s not like it was my first episode. It was indeed the first serious anxiety episode in maybe one year, probably because nothing bad happened to me in the past year, nothing to keep me up a night at least, but still no excuse. So I had a conversation with my stupid brain: “Fine, don’t let me sleep then. We’ll just be awake all night watching Netflix. It’s not like we have to be somewhere tomorrow”. I fell asleep in less than fifteen minutes after that, at about 2 am. Anxiety is just like a toddler that acts up in order to be acknowledged and accepted. Once acknowledged and accepted, it slows down and even fucks off.

Today: sofa all day long. Coffee, lunch, book, chatting with my sister, my niece and my friends, my Spanish lessons (the bare minimum) and listening to Dean Martin.

A gardener was supposed to come at 12 pm but he didn’t (disappointing).

I ordered compost, moth killer and a torch (I anticipate power cuts, I grew up in communism, I’ve seen all this shit before).

I would give a kidney for a very long walk in an open, green space with someone that would talk to me about anything else but this fucking pandemic. I desperately want to go back to talking about nothing in particular. About dresses and boys and girls and bad dates and films and silly things. I want my diary to be filled with commitments that I would get out of just to lounge on my sofa, by choice. I want to go back to normal and do social distancing my way.

And I also want enough strength not to trim my own fringe.

That’s all.

(Photo: yours truly on the seventh day of isolation; a couple of filters plus some colour adjustments were absolutely necessary to obtain this glowing look. I am not glowing one bit).

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