Today I have felt sad all day

Today I have felt sad all day.  I went on my early morning walk but didn’t do yoga before breakfast as usual which isn’t good.

I was disappointed because when I logged into 365 Teams online, they were deserted, like caves, with only my words bouncing off the virtual classroom walls. I miss the small, many encounters that occur at work: smiles, doors held open, nods, talking, laughing, and embraces. I miss being a member of a group. I miss nonverbal conversation, which can convey so much more information than typed words can.

I performed my banking, noting down everything I’d spent and finding that I hadn’t spent anything since March 14th, and then only on food. I was saddened by the disappearance of these basic, taken-for-granted pleasures as I glanced over my receipts for coffee shops, bookshops, and the wholefood shop, and I wondered whether they would be there when we emerged from hibernation.

My bank account is missing the payment for the drums lessons, the petrol to the football pitch, the yoga classes, the riding lessons.  Again, things we have all done and enjoyed and now which are gone, overnight.

I have also heard of several friends who have the virus now.  I wait anxiously for their texts each day to tell me they are OK and today, one text didn’t come, and I am fearful and sad for that.

I had my first email this week, informing me of a family death from the virus, the first in my circles and my heart felt heavy for their loss and heavy with dread of what might come.

My children don’t read my blog, it’s too embarrassing of course, which is just as well because today I got out my will and made lists of phone numbers, bank accounts and websites should my plans to live until they are grandparents, not work out quite so well.

For me sadness sits above my heart, I feel it viscerally, like a weight, a heavy pressure around my mid chest.  There was a time when I would have re-framed it, looked on the bright side, thought of the positives, run, run, run away from a feeling that is hard to feel.

However, I’ve learned that melancholy is a natural reaction to the loss of something we respect and love. I enjoy my job, my coworkers, and my friends. I enjoy driving to work while listening to podcasts. I adore being able to stock my basket with as much fresh salad and fruit as I like. My lunchtime stroll to purchase cacao nibs and pick up an ordered book from our great small bookstore are two of my favorite things to do. I enjoy spending time with each child as I transport them to their destinations, and I enjoy horses and horseback riding.

And I suppose that’s how this period will be, a whirlpool of feelings. In a recent blog, I talked about how free I felt and how much space it seemed like I had. In another blog, I expressed optimism about how all of this may improve schooling. And now I’m writing this.

And as this process goes on, our emotions are bound to be heightened and more changeable and all I know is that we have to learn to surf for we cannot stop the waves.  We need to allow all emotions to be welcome in our experience and not try to shut some out.  For when we try to exclude some emotions, the ones we do not want to feel, they either get louder or the seep inwards, taking all of other emotions, even the ones we liked, with them.

When anger arises, we don’t need to yell or blame; instead, we should identify the feeling, experience it in our bodies, and let it go until it passes. When melancholy strikes, we can cry and seek for embraces, or we can ride the wave, feeling it in our bodies and letting it go till it passes. We may use fear as a guide to keep us safe; we can allow it to assist us in reaching out and asking for help; and we can feel it in our bodies and let it go till it passes.

For the sea is choppy, the waves are growing and the horizon is not clear so all we can do is help each other surf, pulling each other up when we go under, listening, staying in touch and celebrating when we ride an exhilarating wave.

For we are all not just the surfers, but the waves and sea ourselves, if the virus is showing us anything, it is how we are all part of the whole.

And it is through connection that we can live more deeply each day; connection to each other, to nature, to our self and to the present moment. For that is the only way.

Julie xx

(If you know anyone who might benefit from the course I made with Psychologies Magazine on emotions, please share this blog with them – they can sign up for free below.)