I want to clarify something.
My parents are not stealing all the supermarket delivery slots.
I am not angry at the owner of the local shop.
..and I am not concerned that I mentioned cigarettes.
Of all the angst and ranting I off-loaded in my last blog, these apparently were the main concerns raised… I managed to offend my parents, a couple of locals and worry my Hubby (but not because of my mental state, but because my son might read that I occasionally smoke – sorry J, but I’m not perfect).
To be honest I am saddened and shocked that amongst all of that pain, grief and mental angst I was sharing, these were the three things that caused the most consternation.
Let me make it clear. I understand absolutely why mum and dad are booking delivery slots, ordering endless ‘stuff’ from Amazon, DIY shops and on-line shopping channels ( awaits next complaint to correct me on my over exaggeration re their shopping habits), but I do understand why. Like everyone, they are scared of running short of essential food and toiletries; they are not used to having to rely on others for their needs to be met; they are bored with being at home and dad need stuff to do.. and mum just loves TV shopping channels and bargains. I do understand that. BUT what they do not understand is what I keep trying to tell them, which may or may not be my own obsession, but I am truly fearful. I am frightened for them. My dad particularly is quite frail (sorry dad) but breathing is not one of his strengths ! MY mum, is, in fact as strong as an ox but also quite sickly, she’ll outlive us all probably judging by her sister ( x ) .
My obsession/fear is this. Ever single delivery is like inviting a group of strangers into their house. Every single person who has handled each parcel or letter may or may not be a carrier of CV19, and, according to data, CV19 can live on paper/card for 24 hours and on plastic about 3 days and on metal about 9. I have repeatedly told my parents this. I have suggested that, if they do insist on ordering so much stuff , that they leave it untouched (on their mat if it’s a letter, or in the parcel bin, if it’s a parcel (!)) for at least 48 hours before opening it… but I don’t think the message got through. Every time we talk, which was every other day until my last blog, I tell them this, and they tell me of the latest things they are waiting to arrive! So, yes, I apologise to my mum, who focussed on the one point that was the least relevent in the entire post, but I really wish they would stop ordering stuff. In my mind it’s like they’re playing a game of russian roulette.
Secondly, re the local shop. I am more than aware that I was only there to offer cover whilst the permanent staff were sick. But to me it was a life line. A specific time and day I had to be somewhere and do something for other people. And those 2 weeks/4 shifts gave me purpose. I am very pleased their regular staff are well and back. I am more than happy to be called on, on an ad hoc basis if anyone is ever sick again, and I wasn’t expecting more. I just miss it. Routine and people x
And to Hubby, no, fuck it, these are strange and challenging times. I don’t care if people know I’m having a drink or a smoke I just wish I wasn’t feeling the urge to. Same with the chocolate … I’d managed almost 3 months without any.
So, (deep breath), to clarify, I love my parents, but am continuously saddened by how little we have to say to each other, how little we understand each other and how intolerant I am of them, and this situation has highlighted that because I want to talk to them more regularly and check in with them but I hate that our first words to each other are ‘I haven’t got anything to tell you’ and the lasting emotion from our calls is one (on my part, of frustration and concern) and on their part… who knows, I have honestly absolutely no idea.
To conclude, the last blog post was a frustrated rant. It was me standing in the middle of a field screaming at all the injustice of this whole sorry situation and everything related to it. I will be fine. I am, in fact, fine, but I always promised that this blog would be a ‘warts and all’ account because I think sharing my reality helps people realise that nothing is normal except that we are all ordinarily extraordinary, and complex , and a mixed bag … what we are not, is the single overarching thing that we like to portray ourselves to be. I am not always strong, I am not always kind, I am not always eccentric, I am not always motivated. I don’t always have the solution, I can’t always be the strength, I can’t always offer comfort, I don’t have a smile on my face 24/7. I’m just human, like everyone else: unique, exceptional, ordinarily extraordinary.
Right, I’m off into my garden, I have a caravan to renovate, an outdoor loo to decorate, seeds to watch grow, a garden to maintain….or maybe I’ll just sit all day in my PJs and procrastinate… the realities of now.