Gradual Emergence

In line with the advice from the Scottish government for individuals who, like my husband, fall into the most vulnerable category, we are still shielding, but gradually the restrictions are lifting, and perhaps at the end of July we will be advised that we can emerge. It might be that in August my children can return to school and nursery and I will be able to return to my job in a supermarket. But it might be that we will have to continue playing it safe yet. We are watching the reports each day, noting the figures, which in the last few days have risen slightly. It's difficult, unsettling being in the unknown, mentally preparing for a possible return to previous routines, and yet not really knowing if it will happen yet.

I am anxious about the transition back into work and the school run. In some ways I feel like I've lost a part of myself, the part that has a place in my community, my work place, the outside world. I've been away so long that I've almost forgotten who I am away from home and feel a strange sort of detachment to it all. Returning to old routines will be a process of rediscovering myself and fitting in again.

Perhaps it will be easy. Perhaps it will be as though I've never been away. But at the same time, it's not just me that's changed, but the whole world around me. I haven't been able to experience this new world firsthand, when others have been living in it for the last four months, so it's going to take some adaptation.

The hardest part is not knowing if it will happen yet, or whether we will stall for a further few weeks, gradually increasing the detachment I feel towards my former lifestyle and making the rehabilitation process even harder. I can only wait and see, and continue to utilise this time I've been granted.

Hosanna

When I promised to love my husband in sickness and in health I never envisaged a scenario where his health would require me to remain at home, taking indefinite leave from a 'key worker' position which will in all likelihood span for longer than the twelve weeks initially proposed. Don't think for a minute I am rethinking my wedding vows or considering my position to be unique. I fully appreciate that everyone is in the same boat. But there are times where I feel somewhat trapped. I am taking care of three people on my own, while learning to depend on others for needs that would otherwise require me to step into the outside world. And it's hard. 

While on the whole my outlook on life is improving and I am adapting to the situation at hand, there are days where I feel completely drained. I am pouring out so much of myself that sometimes by evening I am empty. I don't see those days coming. They tend to creep up on me when I dare to believe I've finally got the upper hand, and they come in an onslaught with any additional pressures, even joyful ones. 

Trying to coordinate Easter and Ever's fourth birthday on top of my current caring duties was almost too much. Although I prepared in advance I didn't anticipate how overwhelming the day itself would be with two excitable children, a full itinerary with little resting time, a lot of clearing up to do and no one to help. Is it really any wonder that, while I made it through the day, I feel so empty this evening on supposedly the most joyful day in the Christian calendar. I know I will get through and tomorrow will surely be brighter, but for now all I can do is cry out Hosanna! Lord, save us!