On the Edge

It’s been over seven months since the world as we knew it changed into endless Groundhog Days, and despite the summer pause between the waves, we are once again staring down the barrel of a long, dark winter of restrictions and continued measures to prevent more spread. The spring lockdown, in retrospect, seemed much easier than this next round might be, even though children are back at school and we have largely learned to manage our daily tasks with the new routines.

I am on edge, though. Not every moment, not every day, but it is there, driven by the convergence of three dominant elements of my personality.

As an empath, I am sensing the struggles of others around me and it is amplifying my own emotions in a negative manner that was largely absent in the warmer months when we could form social bubbles and enjoy what was the most glorious summer weather in years. As someone with ADHD, my tendencies to overthink and not be able to turn off my brain has caused an overload of dark scenarios and overlapping worries. And finally, as if these two major character traits weren’t enough to conspire against striving for a stable state of happiness or contentment, I am an extrovert, and the social animal that I have been my whole life is not able to play with others at the moment or for the foreseeable future, which overwhelms me at times with a sense of loneliness and isolation. Many of my closest friends are educators, and as they’ve returned to school and are drowning in work, I am back to pursuing the interests I had developed in my retirement, but without others around me to share them with, it’s challenging to my mental health.

So here I sit on the edge, visualising it like a riverbank, my legs dangling as I contemplate the water below while my brain attempts to make sense of what lies ahead. There are days with inexplicable tears, meanderings of the mind to despairing thoughts, and emptiness caused by the starvation for human contact beyond my sweet, kind, introverted Viking husband; there are however so many more moments of joy, banter and laughter, recollections of lovely memories of friends and places just out of reach, and interactions with generous neighbours and friends who manage to find safe ways to connect. For the imbalance that favours the positive aspects of my life, I am truly grateful. When the darkness temporarily overshadows the light, I give in to it and let the water submerge me, as I have learned that it is neither realistic nor possible to be happy or even content all of the time. It is important not to deny emotions, but to accept them without judgement and ride them out. Like waves in the ocean, they swell and eventually recede, and land where they will. The water dissipates over the more solid sand, and the cycle continues. It’s important to recognise that none of our feelings are permanent, much like the conditions we are being placed under right now. Better days are ahead, and I for one will appreciate what the edge is teaching me until they come.