Happy New Year?

Well that was a bit of a rollercoaster wasn't it? I haven't written much this year, at least not on my blog. I've written a couple of short stories and snippets here and there, but no where near as much as usual. I could blame the pandemic and the predicament it's left us all in, but the truth is I just haven't felt like it. I've been lazy and haven't wanted to. That's it. However, I did feel that I couldn't pass into the next year without writing something. Some sort of acknowlegement.

For me personally 2020 has been pretty good. Lockdown meant that my children have bonded and now play beautifully together about 75% of the time (a minor miracle, let me tell you!), Chris was able to work from home throughout, so although the first half of the year was tricky for him, after moving house he's had some childfree space to concentrate. We have rested, played together, and spent a lot of time as a family without rushing to and from various activities. To sum it all up, we've been ok. I'm super lucky.

The thing I have found hardest is watching those I love struggle. Friends who have lost loved ones and are unable to grieve fully or find out how to live a normal life without that person in it, because this is far from normal life at the moment. Others who have been constantly worried since March if their businesses will survive this or how long they will be allowed to remain open in case the rules change again. Friends working for the NHS exhausted and stretched beyond breaking point, but who have still kept going to help us, despite seeing post after disrespectful post on social media of people ignoring rules and safety measures, as if their own self importance makes them invincible to COVID-19. And lastly, but by no means least, those who have been struggling with their mental health. To not be able to give real comfort to those I love who have been struggling has hurt most of all. I can of course phone them, send messages, even meet those living close by for a socially distanced chat, but nothing beats the comfort of a real hug. Watching one of my dearest friends cry from grief and not being able to touch her was heartbreaking. Reading messages from another dear friend who was having a really bad time, knowing that normally I could just jump on a train to see her, was so truly frustrating I actually screamed into one of my pillows. Obviously none of my discomfort compares to the pain my friends were feeling, and I have supported where I can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

Despite all of this though, I am so proud of them all. Yes they are still hurting, but they are still living as best they can, and still find small moments of joy here and there. They are adapting, even if it's slow, and are finding extra reserves of inner strength. I am in awe of them all, and I am not sure if I could have done the same. Perhaps the universe/fate/flying spaghetti monster knew this and dealt me an easier hand than most this year because it knew I wouldn't cope with anything more difficult. Lucky to be lucky, as it were.

I was sitting and talking at the table during dinner with Pickles recently, and she said that she'd had such a lovely Christmas, she wished it could be every day. Now as much as I love my girl I am not going to pretend that she's one of these selfless little angels you read about on social media, and that she treasured the special family time we'd had at home this year. What she meant was that she would quite like to be left presents at the foot of her bed every morning, and to eat chocolate for breakfast everyday (which she already kind of does, no matter how much Nutella market themselves as a "hazelnut spread"). Of course she missed seeing her grandparents this year, but Pickles and Puds are real homebodies and as long as their basic needs of food, drink and a pile of Christmas presents are met, then they are good to go.

This lead to a conversation about why it wouldn't be good to have Christmas all the time, because then it wouldn't be special anymore. Special moments aren't supposed to happen all the time, that's the whole point of them being special. Everything in this world needs to happen in moderation for it to be healthy. Sad moments, special moments, diet, exercise, work, hobbies, everything in moderation except one thing and thats love. Love is the one thing that there can never be enough of. Not the creepy, obsessive, lock you in the cellar type,  I'm talking about real love. The type that makes you call the friend you haven't heard from in a while to make sure they're ok, the type that makes you answer a community facebook post asking for help, the type that encourages you to follow the rules and use common sense to stay safe and keep our NHS from cracking under the immense pressure they are already under.

2021 isn't going to be any easier than this year. At least not at first, this pandemic doesn't just disappear at the stroke of midnight like Cinderella's pumpkin, and even when it does disappear we are still going to have a long recovery. Not just economically, but on personal levels people are going to have a long period of healing mentally from this. It is going to take immense patience, kindness and love not just for those recovering, but from those supporting too.

I wish all of you a very Happy New Year. Maybe not the beginning bit of 2021, but perhaps the middle and end. Stay safe.