I wrote and submitted this to a writing challenge at my writing group - Vale Royal Writers Group - in January 2021. I actually was in the top three finalists for the competition. What I found interesting is that while this is nonfiction, the other two finalists were a fiction, with made up characters dealing with the lockdowns in various ways which I think did illustrate ways people were coping - but I thought all three pieces sounded similar. My voice here was similar to the fictional voices in the other stories. I still have a very difficult time creating a fictional story, it does not come easy to me, so I rarely try.
What is the W Word?
In January, 2020, I had a dream that I only understood later, when circumstances had changed my life and the rest of the world. I often have dreams or hear a statement being made just as I’m waking up and like to think of these as messages from a higher source. In this dream, I was told “You will get through this coming period, by staying focused on embroidery and w----”. I didn’t catch the second word but did know it started with a W.
I spent January carrying on with usual routines and lining up a number of workshops and courses that I could look forward to in the year. I even signed up for a writing week at Swanwick, something I’d done a few years back. I also had some embroidery or art focused workshops and residentials. I made plans for writing projects and had a goal of completing at least one story a month for the rest of the year.
On the 20th of March, a Monday, I took my car into the dealership for an emergency repair. I had a service/MOT appointment for Thursday but it suddenly had a big leak so I called and even though they had no time available, they agreed to let me bring it in and they’d check it when they could. I walked home the two miles. The next day, I get a phone call and am told that yes, my car had a leak on the fuel line but they wouldn’t be able to get parts until Thursday, however, they were closing in compliance for the lockdown that had just been announced by the Prime Minister and I could leave my car in their parking lot if I wanted, until they reopened. Well, I didn’t want that fuel tank to empty out in my driveway so I quickly agreed to leave it there. It stayed there for two months. When I went back in May, the erstwhile friendly lobby had been rearranged into a sterile blank space, losing all the seating area and coffee machine and newspapers and tv - and I had to wash my hands and stand behind plastic barriers and follow arrows taped on the floor, while waiting to pick up the keys. The place smelled Very Clean and I immediately started having choking fits which brought glares from the receptionist, with whom I’d developed a good relationship with over the years. I’d stumble outside to try and calm down and then go back in and start up again. As coughing, by now, had become an evil alert to others that you probably have Covid, I feared being wrongly judged. I only later realised that I was probably reacting to all the alcohol in the antibacterial solutions, which hung heavily in the air and being allergic to alcohol, this was setting up my coughing fits. Mortified, I finally got my car keys and fled, fearing Paula would give me a call and politely request that I never come back.
I hadn’t really missed my car because my husband had been furloughed in April and so he and his company car were now a permanent fixture around the house. His furlough continued on into the summer and I had had to shift a few of my routines around to work around this constant figure pretty much always sitting around the house now.
The cancellations for all the things I’d been looking forward to began to roll in. This was disappointing and infuriating and only added to the oppression of this frozen time laying over everyone. The last cancellation came on my birthday, the 10th of June - when Swanwick notified me they were folding their August plans. Big slashes showed up on my calendar that sits in the hall. One by one, all the things I had programmed into my life to look forward to - were gone and my husband’s inactivity did not help my mood.
I remembered my dream and thought “aha! This was what the Guide in the dream was referring to!” and kept up my focus on various embroidery projects I had going. And began to wonder what the W word was. By now I’m eager to grab a hold of anything I can to fill my empty days, weeks, months. Keep the focus on creating beauty and never mind what is going on out there.
I discovered quickly that the W was not going to be Working out, as my gym was shut for the lockdown and a lethargy hit around doing anything much at home.
I hoped that it might be Walking. This was an activity that was being greatly encouraged by the government and all sorts of people were out walking, it became a Thing. I used to walk, all of my life. When I started going to university at 18, I walked two miles each way and kept up that kind of walking routine for the rest of my life. Until about five years ago. My diabetes began to affect my feet and while I’ve recovered from some truly crippling times, I’d been getting the impression that it wasn’t safe to put the miles into my feet anymore like I’ve always loved. This has been a big grief for me to deal with and that is why I was excited when I walked home from dropping the car off. I was hoping this meant maybe I could start up a walking routine. I went out about three more times, there are good walks straight out of my door - along canals, down to the flashes - and I was eager to get back to it. I had a fantastic encounter with a swan on one of these walks - who crash landed near me - and as it sat there with dirt on it’s magnificent white breast, shaking it’s head, I told it “I know exactly how you feel”. I was able to encourage it, once it recovered, to follow me slowly up the road, back to the lake. We became friends - but that was the last time I got to go for a walk as I began to get “no’s” again, on doing this activity. So the W word was not Walking.
Maybe it was Writing! I’d started writing and cleaning up various stories from my life and then I signed up for a course in April where a teacher gave us a prompt every day and made encouraging comments on all of our efforts. I managed to do about half of the assignments and then wham, a block rose up which wiped writing out of my life. I gradually even stopped the morning pages I’ve done fairly regularly for many years now. Nope, the W word was not Writing.
In July, my husband got a call informing him he was being made redundant after 30 years with his company. So W for Working for pay has now left my life, even though it wasn’t something I was doing anyway. But I have always tried to set up a schedule where I had ‘work projects’ and differentiated between the weekdays and weekends like anyone with a career would. Now having an inactive husband and an empty calendar and days drifting, drifting by without a routine to hold onto a structure - nope, the W word is not work. I couldn’t even do gardening and my chores have trailed off to bare minimum. Cooking dinners was a creative bit of fun for a while but then that fizzled as well. A lethargy has taken over.
Maybe the W word is Watching! I’ve watched the people walking by, I’ve watched all the isolating, disassociating changes made everywhere I go - the library, the supermarkets, the schools, the shops. I’ve watched in shock as people doing their jobs turn customers away, refuse to associate with you in any meaningful way, glare or look fearfully at you over the masks. I’ve watched as every single company I have anything to do with - is turned into a fumbling, dysfunctional mess that stumbles along, and increasingly, collapses. I’ve watched confusion, chaos, despair, loss on every side. I’ve watched the world through the newspapers and social media. Haven’t ruled this one out.
What about Waiting? Could the W word be simply Waiting? Along with myself, everyone is just waiting for something to change, for this thing that makes absolutely no sense, to come to an end. Everyone uses the phrase “when things get back to normal” around things they want to do. If you want to stay mentally healthy - you better have some good skills around how to function while waiting. I think I have those, having built up through my life of waiting for life to happen. And now here we are - life is happening - and it’s just Waiting!! I think, now in January, 2021, a year after the dream, I’ve figured it out. Wait on!
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