By Amrit Bains
It has been two years since the start of Covid-19, and all the variants that followed. IÔÇÖm not sure if it is an anniversary or a memorial, but either way now is a good time to reflect on it. How has Covid changed my life? Or rather, how has my life changed, since Covid? A comparison of then and now, may be the best way to go about this.
March 2020 – the start of Covid, I left sixth form early for the longest summer ever. During this summer I got into Cardiff Uni, and spent a hell of a lot of time alone. I didnÔÇÖt feel alone in a lonely sense, because we were all in the same state of mandated isolation; and of course, my family was stuck in the very same house as me. The first lockdown has a strange nostalgia to it, wearing as little clothing as possible in the unexpected heat. It seemed that our regression indoors, had stabilised the seasons back to their natural patterns. We were offered a perspective of what our lives and the world could be like with less cars on the road, and in turn less pollution in the air. But whilst we were enjoying the heat we were also hiding our sweaty top lips under masks.
Knowing yourself became so much more important during this time when life slowed down. For many people our age, it was a crucial 2 years we feared to lose. Whether you spent that time hidden in bed, unmotivated, or became your better self, starting every hobby you ever dreamt off, it was a period of growth. At the start of Covid my opinions and interests were tainted by confirmative environments, I didnÔÇÖt know to what extent I was influenced by the people around me. To begin with, I was adjusting to and embracing the new boredom of doing nothing. I kept to myself, picking up every hobby I could, but none that ever scratched my itch, clear in the fact that I haven’t stuck to any of them. However, trialling these new hobbies did allow me to become more inspired and interested in creating my own art, the personal kind that remains hidden, tucked away in the sketchbooks it was created in; the kind of art that was only ever there to help or distract me from this new, strange situation. There was comfort in that time alone, I was able to figure out what I actually liked and thought, with less influence of others.
Covid provided some ups and downs with my relationships, especially as I seemed to be such an advocate of time alone. For some there was safety being in relationships and friend groups, the kind where you would drink over Zoom (to make up for the clubbing experience we were missing out on). For me, the friendships that did survive this period were the only ones that mattered, and the ones I feel the safest in today. Even though that may only be one friend, the number never mattered to me. ┬áI didnÔÇÖt mind because I was off to Uni where I had the opportunity to start ÔÇÿfreshÔÇÖ. However, I did not anticipate the impacts of Covid on this ÔÇÿnewÔÇÖ version of myself and being confined to first year accommodations.
I have now realised I value comfort and stability within my friendships above anything else. Maybe the pandemic reduced my social battery, but I also think it showed me that if IÔÇÖm spending my time around someone, I want to be comfortable, and dread the awkward, distant stage of first meeting someone. I love being around people who are so intensely themselves, it brings me out of my shell and makes me comfortable. If we click, we click; if we donÔÇÖt, we donÔÇÖt and that is okay.
I think Covid slowed me down, but in a positive way. It was scary coming out of lockdown, I no longer had FOMO, but instead I had anxiety about taking part in life. Now, I want experiences that are going to feel good or beneficial to me, and where I can find comfort. I would hate to say this is selfish in nature, but perhaps it is slightly, as an effort of self-preservation to keep myself going for the long run. Or perhaps itÔÇÖs simply me slowly integrating myself back into the world at a rate I can handle.
Image by Heather Morse via Unsplash
