Part Two (or: how I learned to stop worrying and become vegetarian)
Clearly, this is not the platform to discuss my (or anyone’s) mental health circumstances as a result of the coronavirus pandemic. Suffice it to say that I found the first six weeks of lockdown to be very difficult. In an environment when complaints about self isolating were met with criticism and condemnation (usually: “Stop whinging, things aren’t as bad as they were during the war”), I struggled with the loss of my regular routine, contact with friends, and an increased responsibility (and anxiety) for my children. And in an effort to cope, my first step was to jettison my strict veganism, abandon the wilderness, and allow myself the luxury of being a vegetarian.
And I do class it as luxury.
Being vegetarian is easy. Maybe a contentious viewpoint, but that’s my take on it, having been both carnivorous and plant-based as comparisons. The emotional ‘crutch’ of cakes, ice cream, and chocolate (with the plethora of previously disallowed biscuits this brings) made my new normal a whole lot easier to bear. It also meant I gained a stone in weight, and lost all pretence of fitness.
Eventually. I righted the ship, and I found a new routine and a new sense of purpose that allowed me to adjust to lockdown. I also accepted that life was unlikely to return to anything like it was ‘before’.
The big looming question was: in light of the new normal, and all the changes to my usual life routines, did I have the will and courage to return to the wilderness?
To be continued…
