Spilt Milk
Sunday and the thirty-third Covid blog. ❄️
According to the weather reports, I should have awoken this morning to a blanket of snow. I did not, instead it rained constantly throughout the night and although my weather app is adamant of snow showers today, I am far from convinced that if it arrives it will settle.
Despite its problems I love snow, it makes the world look magical, from the trees bathed in soft, white, silence to the wheelie bin topped in winter’s glory. The world feels so special when it snows, full of hope and childhood memories. I still get excited when it snows and I hope that will never stop.
Yesterday, I went for a long walk in anticipation of the promised forecast, it feel prudent. Although I adore snow, I do not adore ice.
As I walked my usual route, the bleakness of winter’s landscape seemed a little melancholy but thankfully the fields held their own surprises.
A gaggle of ‘Canadian Geese’ cheered me, as did the welcome sight of the grey gelding and although he was too far away for me to say hello, the familiar felt comforting and made me smile.
During my working week, like Harry Potter I live under the stairs, which allows my father the courtesy of leading a normal life. Like most of us I am usually at work during the day and being a social butterfly I am quite often here there and everywhere and especially at weekends, which is why it works.
Not that we don’t get along, of course we do and I love him dearly, my dad is my absolute hero but being in each other’s pockets this time around has been difficult.
The nature of my job changing to teaching online live lessons, means there is now a need for a quiet environment, something my incredibly deaf and noisy father isn’t used to. Most especially, as I am not usually at home during the day.
I understand of course but when you live in an open plan house, sitting at the dinning room table, trying to teach with enthusiasm and gusto whilst someone is noisily emptying the dishwasher or opening parcels leads to several heated discussions.
The thing is I understand, when you are older and used to doing your own thing, of course it’s going to feel as if you can’t breathe in your own home.
So, Reg to the rescue with his aptitude for problem solving, built me a work station under the stairs which has worked perfectly, I can shut the kitchen and living room doors and cocoon myself away, allowing Reg to crash and bang to his hearts content.
I intend to paint the wall at half term and brighten it up a bit, as it seems I will be living there a little longer. It will also make sense to use it at weekends now that everything is in one place.
However, despite this being a great solution, sitting for hours under the stairs is isolating and like us all, I am up and down on this current coronacoaster.
Life is incredibly tough, not seeing our family and our friends in person and generally being unable to join in life is really taking its toll.
We are social animals, we are not meant to shut ourselves away and last week culminated in a mini meltdown whilst literally crying over spilt milk.
A day when everything felt a little hopeless but having a really good cry helped me. After a difficult and challenging day of technical gremlins and trying to teach a blank screen of pupils, dropping a whole carton of Almond Milk was the straw that broke the camel’s back!
Eaten by Dogs
One of those days
When the world feels wrong
One of those days
When you feel lost
One of those days
When your heart hurts
One of those days
When you spill milk
One of those days
When every letter is a bill
One of those days
When you can’t hear life’s song
One of those days
When tears fall
One of those days
When sadness lives
One of those days
Convincing yourself
This is all there will ever be:
Growing old
Dying alone
Circled by pigeons
Eaten by dogs
Joy M Louisa
I sent this poem to a few of my friends who said ‘Yes!’ This this was ‘exactly’ how ‘they’ had been feeling and so I felt it was important to share.
To remember that it’s ok to feel like this and to try and be kind to ourselves, to remember we are in all in such an extraordinary situation and one that we are constantly having to adapt with every strange and new problem this virus brings.
To coin a phrase “it’s okay to not be okay right now” and to hold on to the thought that the world really is beginning to change in the right direction. Having a good cry helped me immensely. I hope in some way this poem may help you too.
And for the record, the last two lines are meant to make you smile. I have a friend with a very real fear of pigeons and I figured that there aren’t many vultures in Essex.
Maybe a few lions though. 🦁
Be kind on yourselves.
Stay Safe,
Joy xxx