Posts Tagged lockdown

Look!

Another post from Lockdown UK. Here I am, dressed basically as I work from the sofa. I can’t remember when I last wore makeup. What’s the point? Thoughts that I suspect are familiar to many of us right now.

BUT I’ve just dyed my hair for the first time since last July – and I feel like Me again!

Every time, it’s a question. Do I bother? Is it finally time to let my natural hair show? Well, several inches of growth and once again, I’m reminded that I really don’t like it (not silver enough yet!).

I’ve always had issues with how I look. Always. From years of pageboy haircuts to years of braces, never really understanding what I looked good wearing and then being mocked for wearing what I liked…

Only as an adult did I really discover what felt good to/on me. I love colourful hair, but prefer goth style with splashes of bright. Pastels: NO. I have many leather jackets, which double as armour when in cities or crowded places. And of course, I have my Druid Drag of robe and cloak, plus relevant jewellery.

I’ve seen the extremes of lockdown life, with one group dressing up to play at home and make beautiful social media art. The other stays in comfortable clothing, makeup-free, minimal effort. I’m obviously the latter.

But this year, in Lockdown 3.0, I’ve become what feels like unhealthily insular. The ups and downs of mood haven’t helped, as I feel very self-aware when I go out, as well as not being able to exercise as much leaving me low. I don’t feel worthy of the effort; there’s no point, I can’t work miracles.

Recognising this may help to fix it. I’m slowly returning to ‘public’ work, which is a kick in the pants to sort myself out. I’m being inspired by those social media folks, friends and strangers, rather than overwhelmed by their skill.

Himself commented when I wore some jewellery the other day that it suited me. I took that thought and turned it around in my head: What is ‘me?’ Here, now, at this stage of life, with this shape and with practical needs?

A work in progress, as always. But returning my hair to its colourful best is a start (I’ll get the split ends sorted when I’m allowed again).

Writing this seems so vain in one sense, although I suspect it’s something many of us have thought about as we kick our heels at home. How playful can we be in such scary, mad times? Isn’t such a topic trivial? There’s bigger issues to worry about!

And yet self-care is high on the agenda, as we struggle to find what works in keeping us sane and moving.

I love seeing my friends dress up to go to the supermarket, or post cosy pictures with soft toys and hobbies. This is still who we are, even when we’re not putting on a Public Face for Work. I need to learn not to be ashamed of who I am, nor fear the mockery. I thought I’d got past that, but old demons resurface if given half a chance.

What am I doing? I’m exploring gently to see what pokes a head up from the ground this Spring.

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Light in the Dark

Today was not a good day.

But I did receive some advice that struck me, and which I would like to remember. I should try to ‘surround myself with things that make me happy.’

Even though we may have our own spaces, how consciously do we do this? Not random piles of Stuff, nor the minimalism of only keeping what gives us joy, but taking time to seek out soul-deep happy things in the moment – as medicine, solace, comfort, fuel to keep yourself moving forward.

The world is turning, things are changing, and I don’t know where we will end up. But for the first time in a while, I feel that I am seeing something to aim for, with the pulling back of self-care helping radiate outwards to larger work.

Tonight I sit, exhausted in body and spirit. I have soft knitting in my lap, colourful yarn gifted by fellow yarnies. A pup or a kitten may come by for a snuggle. A toy Jackalope sits nearby, sent from a friend miles away. Fire crackles in the hearth, and Himself prepares comforting food. Before bed, I will dip into a few pages of an excellent book.

Tomorrow, I will work on gifts for friends. Writing plans are germinating, throwing out tiny shoots of growth as characters begin to talk to me. Ritual ideas are also coming, as we near Imbolc, but also as I prepare a rite of Passing.

All of this while the country is locked down by illness. When we need companionship but cannot even touch family and friends – at least we have this technology to keep our shared spirits up. We have items with stories, that have come to us when needed.

We keep going through the winter months, and I am glad of being able to reach beyond that dark to the flame of happiness again.

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Permission to Try

A while ago, I was chatting to a friend and happened to mention that I loved horror movies, especially when I was feeling low. She looked at me in horror. ‘Why?!’ she gasped.

I honestly didn’t know how to reply, because I couldn’t quite understand the question.

I don’t know if it’s still true (I suspect it is), but when I was younger, it wasn’t ‘cool’ to be really passionately into something. Be it a hobby, interest or whatever struck your fancy in a big way, it seemed that unless that topic was currently ‘trendy’ – and therefore permissible – you could expect to get mocked for it. So you quickly learned to keep it quiet.

A classic example is Dungeons and Dragons, which was widely derided for many years after launch (despite its popularity), but is now ‘cool’ because those nerdy kids grew up and are still enjoying themselves. Thus others are finally drawn in though curiosity rather than put off by derision.

I’ve never understood why someone being really keen on a subject should have to push that down for the sake of their ‘image.’ When do we learn to mock others for things they enjoy? I think the nearest I came was having a laugh at my brother for his football-madness, but our whole family had that – I always took a book (or two) wherever I went, unless I wanted to sit with them watching two groups of men chase a ball around a field for 90 minutes. Fun for many, not for me.

I still joke with him about ‘Doing A Sport’, by the way. It’s not malicious at all, as I love seeing my nephews enjoying it as they get older. I really wouldn’t want to tell anyone what they can and cannot like! My technically-correct explanation of the Offside Rule (‘that man’s in front of that other one and he shouldn’t be’) shows how daft I am, if anything.

It’s interesting to take a step back to consider why some things are permissible and others not. So many social rules fly around gendered roles, for example: historically, women were looked down upon for reading, because they might Get Ideas. Let alone Playing a Sport (still true).

I love that we’re now starting to really dig into the irrationality of such invisible laws, which seem to originate in the schoolyard. At some point (hopefully by adulthood) an individual can stop, think to themselves ‘Hang on…’ and realize that the thing they love is for a valid reason.

I mention my ribbing of my brother and his football because he has been known to do similar to me about my Paganism. He used to call it ‘That stuff you do’, until he came to my Handfasting and saw what the Stuff was for himself. It’s not for him but he gets it, and I’m glad.

At every single such event I’ve ever attended, regular folks have approached me to tell me how lovely the ceremony was, and how they’d never realized. I do wonder what they imagine Pagan Ritual to be, but it’s always lovely to share The Stuff I Do with others in an open way, so they can see for themselves. Not with a view to recruiting at all – people can make up their own minds about that! Just demonstrating.

If people ask me for introductory information about something I love, I try to help them understand and hopefully inspire a little. It’s always a true pleasure to hear others speak on such topics. Personal passion is a wonderful thing.

I’m writing this today because allowing myself to feel deeply about certain things is something that’s been on my mind recently. What I am allowing myself to have or to do. What’s permissable – and if not, why not?

I’ve been reviewing books to share my opinion and also help authors and small publishers. Genre fiction isn’t always ‘cool’, but if I liked it, I’ll say so. It’s up to those reading the review if they pick up the book themselves or not.

I’ve been watching makeup videos on YouTube, and debating playing with colours again. The greater part of a year spent in lockdown means I’ve been making do with basic primping, but I want to remember how fun it is to dress up. I love my dark red lipstick, and will have to wear it at home for a while… but that’s ok.

What do we allow ourselves to do, or not do? Why avoid things that we love for the sake of what others think, or what we feel we ‘should’ be doing? Those awful social expectations, codes and rules…

This isn’t about anarchism or chaos. This is simply about pausing to ask ‘do I really want to do this?’ when you know the answer is Yes.

Because right now, we need to give ourself permission to enjoy what we love. Explore new languages, cultures, topics, genres, games, pastimes. What can we do to brighten the days during lockdown? Bake, read, play, craft, dress up. Even play D&D with friends across Zoom, which Himself and I will be doing tonight.

I feel as if sometimes I’m relearning what I love all over again, because the depression brings back those playground voices that tell me I can’t, shouldn’t, will look stupid, etc etc.

But what if I try?

Wintry blessings, my friends.

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Bricks

A YouTuber that I enjoy, Caddicarus, has been prefacing his lockdown videos over recent months by screaming ‘What is going on?!’ – because The World is Made of Bricks and he’s trapped at home. A (rather dark) comedy way to visualise his feelings about these crazy times.

And now, the world is slightly less Made of Bricks. We can go out! But after a visit to our nearest town a couple of weeks ago, we’re nowhere near back to Life Before just yet.

The feeling in the air was one of fear. Masks everywhere, I’m glad to say, and people doing what they could – I’ve yet to see any anger or nasty words, thank goodness. That feeling of tautness in the air, though, as if something bad (worse?) is about to happen…

The last few weeks have still been very difficult for me, health-wise. I hate talking about this really, as there’s always the voices in my head nagging away: ‘Oh, she’s off again. What NOW? You know people are probably sick to death of it by now. Why can’t you write something normal?’

These are absolutely all phrases that have been said to my face in the past, by the way. Which doesn’t help.

I’ve been wanting to write, but the words haven’t been coming. The World is Made of Bricks, and bricks aren’t very inspiring.

Then I think about this.

Years ago, there was a Handfasting where the couple used a brick as their wedding Stone, the symbolic foundation of their relationship. It was a brick that was part of the batch that had built their house.

Bricks are heavy, but they are stones crafted by us. So many people put tremendous emphasis on the importance of stones in magic, but those are usually of the sparkly crystal variety. Either way, stones have been taken from the earth that is where they’ve been formed, and brought to fulfil a purpose in our lives.

I write this in a room with exposed brick walls and floor. I can feel them beneath my feet right now. I loved this house for its natural floors, as I’d rather go barefoot given half a chance.

I’ve been feeling trapped during lockdown, and that feeling only worsened when I ventured out. I’ve heard people speaking of being ‘stuck at home’ as a time for reflection, and that’s fine, but humans are generally social creatures. We need to reach out sooner or later, if only to assure friends that we’re not actually dead or to go find food shopping.

The bricks overwhelming my mind aren’t safe places for me to hide. They’re crushing me, like a medieval torture. They’re preventing me from Doing, holding me in with the thoughts that tell me how much I should be doing, and how much I CAN’T do. This is hiding like a fairytale creature, in the dark of a cave, the opposite of what Summer should be.

The World is Made of Bricks, and turned upside down at the same time. Instead of being at my busiest, I feel as productive as a brick. I remember another reviewer describing how a story flowed as easily as a river of bricks (yes, that slowly). And yet…

People have been reaching out to me. I’ve been answering. Before I know it, conversations are being had – admittedly via internet Messenger applications, but I’m hearing how friends are doing, helping professionally or just sharing enthusiasm about a good book or knitting pattern.

This year has come crashing down, but we are slowly building it back up. The bricks might not look the same as they did before, but they are still the foundation stones to our world. No matter where we fall, the ground will be there to catch us. We can make our space what we need it to be. It just takes one brick at a time.

I’m still here. My inspiration is finding its way, peeking through holes in the wall, and I’m tremendously sorry for being so quiet. I’m doing what I can, when I can.

The world is changing and the new path isn’t clear yet. I can feel it trying to form beneath our feet. One step at a time, gently… gently…

Here’s that floor, and Fen, whose Gotcha Day it is today. Ten years ago, he came home with us as a tiny puppy. This is his room too, his safe space as much as it is mine. This is him right now, keeping an eye on me as I work. The bricks are cool on a hot August day.

We build our lives. Some parts are brighter or stronger than others, but we are still here. Some days that feels like a miracle, and I’m glad of how solid a fact it is.

Fen 7-8-20

P.S. I was also reminded as I wrote this of a song from years ago that I rather loved. It’s a Christian band, but take the meaning as you will. This is ‘Let it Be‘, by Superchick – a song about bricks.

Stay strong, my friends.

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