Here we are at the end of another year.
Sometimes, Facebook can be some kind of weird reassuring but also cruel grounding exercise. New Year’s Eve from our arrival in the Illawarra in 2014 shows small gatherings, good food, good company, a more centred and peaceful life.
Until of course we hit 2019 and its bushfires. Followed by our old mate, Covid.
Around NYE in 2019, my Dad and his wife Mary sat at the beach in Dalmeny with the rest of the townsfolk. Phones were knocked out. They were told that while Narooma would be defended, Dalmeny would not be. Only a late change in weather meant the town, who had dutifully filled their garbage bins, cleared the leaves from gutters and did their level best to stay calm as they headed in their cars to sand and ocean, saved the day.
In 2020, we’d been living with the unwanted houseguest that is Covid for several months. This fractious, selfish creature leered, sneezed and demanded its way onto the streets, into the living room, and in between good people. It denied hugs, caused political divide and stoked anxiety.
We thought we were shot of the bastard. But in hindsight 2021 proved yet another platform for this angry, divisive killer to create even more isolation, stress and angst. It’s made us raw, wise and unbelievably tired. It’s created conditions for art while silencing the art scene.
Now, we’ve decided to “live with it”. As though by some magic wand wave, what we were doing was not that. As though someone has turned a page and allegedly, it’s up to us now. Because we didn’t before, apparently, carry the load. We didn’t lose contact with family or become teacher, friend and carer to our young. Nor did we continually navigate a lack of medical access through diversion of skills and assets towards disease. We didn’t lose jobs, relationships, businesses, connection and family. We weren’t denied rituals or comfort on the most basic of levels.
No, we common folk have been incredibly isolated from the whole thing, according to our politicians. Instead of being the actual people being yelled at or doing the yelling, who have been quietly trying to find a new way through varying degrees of impact and personal hell, we’ve had it easy.
Or at least this is how the politicians tell it.
Our strength may be evident to us. But I believe our injuries and watermarks are yet to be seen as the post event coping and decompression kicks in.
However, we are nothing if not resilient, right?
We are the mammalian equivalent of a cockroach. We can and do continue to get up and walk around, even if half our head feels like it’s missing. Or we’re stuck beneath a haze of something sinister and indescribable.
Somehow, we find a way through.
And how we do this, how we find this way through, is about remembering a few things that no hard year, out-of-touch politician or yelling, angry person can take away.
We can – and have – survived challenges before. Even when a new challenge presents itself, we can find a way through. We can find a way to believe in ourselves. At least enough to cobble the rest together.
All of us have some kind of personal strength. We might forget them sometimes. We may lose confidence in them, too. But each of us has both skills and softer qualities we offer to the world to show us the way through.
Even when things are hellish, we have things to be grateful for. And often, the real gratitude is in the granular. It’s in the tiny pieces of a conversation. Or the stumbling across a flower that shouldn’t be growing but is. It’s in the coolness of an ocean breeze. Or someone smiling at you in a way that, even if their face is covered by mask, you can still see that appreciative crinkle in the flesh around the eyes. You can still see the warm twinkle of humanity within.
So, as we greet NYE in Australia with rising cases, confused and trust eroding political messages, and yes, more than a little fatigue, it’s also a time to remember something about you.
· What three challenges did you face this year? How do you feel about them now?
· What three things have you done well? How have you surprised yourself?
· What three things are you grateful for?
· In what ways did you hold yourself close to give comfort? How did you hold yourself accountable, too?
And then once you’ve done filling your cup (even a little bit, a swallow can make all the difference), how have you seen the same abilities to face challenges, do well under pressure and offer gratitude in those around you? How did they give comfort to others? And grow as people, too?
Be safe, be kind… and be you.
Because who you are is just what we need at times like these.
Love and other ways to justify kissing at midnight,
Rebekah
If you or anyone you know is showing signs of distress, please call Lifeline on 13 11 14.
You can also find support in the following places. https://freelancejungle.com.au/freelance-mental-health-wellness/