covid-19

Text reads: Keeping well and breathing. Background contains cardboard gift box and close-up of Christmas tree.

Keeping well and breathing

It’s the 21st of December, which means it’s time to play the greatest Australian Christmas song of all time — “How to Make Gravy” by Paul Kelly. The classic tale of a man who finds himself in prison over the holidays while his family gets together without him and makes gravy incorrectly, probably.

Paul Kelly – How to Make Gravy (singalong version)

It’s also a good time to acknowledge that, for various reasons, the festive season actually sucks for a lot of people. This year, many people are separated from loved ones due to the pandemic, while others might be trapped in situations with someone they can’t get away from.

My life is pretty good, but I do find my anxiety is sometimes worse during holidays or long weekends.

In case someone else reading this is in a similar boat, I thought I’d share a mindful breathing exercise I use when I’m feeling overwhelmed. It’s not a magic pill or anything, but it’s helped me at times, and maybe it’ll help you.

It goes a little something like this…

  1. Find a reasonably comfortable position. If you’re stressed or anxious, you’re probably not feeling very comfortable, but do your best.
  2. Close your eyes. This isn’t mandatory, but I find it helps me focus on my breathing, which is kind of the point. 🙂
  3. Take a deep breath in for four seconds.
  4. Hold your breath for two seconds.
  5. Exhale for six seconds through your mouth like you’re blowing out slowly through a straw.
  6. Repeat this process for a minute or so.

If you find that breathing exercise useful, consider it my Christmas gift to you. If it’s not useful, then the Paul Kelly song can be my gift to you. 😀

Happy Gravy Day.

Text reads: Black swan and isolation. Background contains a black swan on water.

Black swans and isolation

I’m a weird person. I love the Star Wars prequels and always have. I was perfectly fine with the name iSnack 2.0 for the spread that was eventually renamed Vegemite Cheesybite due to public backlash. And if I ruled the world, it would be acceptable to wear leggings as pants in any setting.

I also get weirdly territorial about black swans.

Growing up in Perth, the capital of Western Australia, I was taught that black swans are only found in WA. That’s why it’s called the Swan River and why there’s a black swan on our state flag.

So imagine my surprise a few years ago when I went to Adelaide, South Australia and saw black swans out and about, living their best lives on the River Torrens.

I was with two friends who were also from Perth, so we’d all grown up thinking black swans were “ours”. It was… fascinating. And bewildering.

“Did they take our swans? Is this stolen property?”

Then Google told me black swans are native to other parts of Australia too. Our lives have been a lie!

But obviously “our” black swans are the best. Because animals care very deeply about the arbitrary borders that humans create. (Google didn’t tell me that; I did.)

Fast forward to the present day. I’m writing this post from inside the WA state border, which is currently closed (unless you can get an exemption) as a COVID protection measure.

I understand the reasons. Heck, it’s probably why I felt safe enough to leave the house when I had to go back into the office.

But it’s also starting to get me down. I wish I could see family and friends who aren’t in WA and give them a hug.

Well, I suppose I could don a face mask and get on a plane. No one’s actually stopping me from leaving. But I might not be able to get back home to the best black swans. 😉

So I’ll stay in my isolated fortress, writing useless blog posts like this until I can see my people on the outside again.

P.S. Black swans are not our property, nor anyone else’s. Just in case it wasn’t clear that I was being facetious.

P.P.S. I’ve got some masks ready for whenever I can make a trip across the border. Masks have the additional benefit of covering my acne scars so everybody wins. 😀

Text reads: The masked music fan. Image contains a concert crowd and a heartbeat line.

The masked music fan

Dear Diary,

Before the pandemic, if I was out and about for “non-essential” reasons, there was a pretty high likelihood I was going to a gig. I love live music. For someone who took piano lessons for roughly a third of their life, my own playing is rubbish, but I get a buzz out of seeing people who don’t suck do their thing.

However, it was never quite as easy as that.

Because a gig isn’t just the live music. It’s the sweaty bodies squeezing up against you. It’s the randos who want to hug a stranger and scream centimetres away from your face. It’s the beer being waved around in the air and spilling onto your head.

To be fair, I gave up alcohol years ago, and social situations are way out of my comfort zone. So I’m writing from the perspective of an awkward, sober introvert with an anxiety disorder.

But I guess I’ve always had to weigh up whether or not I love a particular band or want to see a particular gig more than I hate the other stuff that comes with it.

And then a global pandemic hit. Which came with its own set of worries. But it also meant I wasn’t constantly thinking about the pros and cons of going out (there was nowhere to go) and I wasn’t really missing out on anything (there was nothing happening). Truth be told, there was a certain freedom in that.

Now there are gigs back on in Western Australia (albeit with restrictions) and I’ve had to make that decision again. Knowing that people are very lax when it comes to social distancing, the thought of being anywhere near a pub or club at the moment freaks me out.

But there was a benefit gig on Saturday, “A little help for our friends”, to raise money for WA-based production companies that have taken a beating during the pandemic. And I decided to go after considering that:

  • the ticket price would hopefully weed out anyone who was just looking to get shitfaced, leaving those who were there for the bands;
  • it was at the Astor Theatre, where one can get a drink, but alcohol isn’t the main point of its existence;
  • the venue was only allowed a 50% capacity so even if no one was social distancing, I’d have a chance of moving away from people who weren’t respecting my personal space;
  • I knew musicians in three of the five bands, and obviously hadn’t seen them play in quite some time;
  • I have some face masks at home and was willing to be the only person wearing one at the gig. And I’m pretty sure I was, but hey, I’m also Asian. In many Asian countries, it’s not a cultural oddity to have a mask on, even when there isn’t a global pandemic.

And I’m glad I went.

I did get shoved around a bit on the dance floor and elbowed in the head on multiple occasions (I’m very short). And towards the end of the night, I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. But no one spilt anything on me and no one touched me on purpose. And the bands were on fire, some perhaps more so than others, but this is a “Lee-Ann’s issues” review, not a gig review. 😛

So yes, I managed to get out and I had a good time. And with WA in a strong position COVID-wise (fingers crossed it stays that way), hopefully there’ll be more good times in the foreseeable future that aren’t crippled by anxiety. 🙂

Text reads: Embracing the new normal. Background contains a pair of hands pumping liquid soap at a sink.

Embracing the new normal

Dear Diary,

Life is pretty normal. I returned to the office about a month ago, part-time at first, but I’m back to full-time hours now. I’ve gone out for lunch and dinner a few times since COVID-19 restrictions eased, and even though I was nervous beforehand, it’s been fine once I’m there. Though I think my blood pressure goes up whenever someone coughs.

Given the lack of current community transmission in Western Australia, anyone coughing or sneezing in public most likely just has a cold because it’s winter. But the little voice inside my head says, “It could be COVID. They could be spraying killer droplets everywhere. You could get sick. You could get someone else sick. How many times a day do you need to touch your face?!”

Not to mention, I have family and friends in parts of the country and the world where the coronavirus situation isn’t so great.

On the plus side, I’m no longer obliged to shake hands with people. I don’t know why squeezing the germy hands of strangers became A Thing. But I’d be happy to permanently abolish the handshake in favour of any number of non-contact greetings. Bow, Vulcan salute, anjali mudra… the possibilities for not touching people are endless.

Alas, physical distancing seems to have gone out the window in many places. But I like my personal space so when people are keeping a 1.5 metre distance, it’s good. I know those markings on the ground won’t stay forever but I’d be okay if they did.

Oh, and my longtime hand sanitiser habit has not attracted a single snide remark about “OCD” since the pandemic began. I’m finally considered “normal”!

Well, maybe. I am still talking to a blog that can’t talk back, after all… 😀

P.S. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is a very real condition. Can we agree to stop trivialising it by using OCD as an adjective for anyone who happens to like being clean or tidy?

P.P.S. This blog is still quite new but it looks like I’m averaging two posts a month. Which is far less than what you’re “supposed” to do but hey, quality over quantity, right? (The “quality” part is debatable. 😛 )

Text reads: Facing the new normal. Background contains surgical masks.

Facing the new normal

Dear Diary,

This week, I returned to the office for the first time since my workplace went into lockdown three months ago. And as much as I like my job and the people I work with, I was… apprehensive.

Plenty of people have developed some form of coronavirus-related anxiety during the pandemic, and I guess I have too. But I also had anxiety before COVID-19. And the line between my usual anxiety and COVID anxiety isn’t clearly defined.

I live in Western Australia, where the number of cases has been low and there doesn’t appear to be community transmission. In other words, there’s no need for panic; we’ve been very fortunate. But I can’t help my thoughts and feelings — only what I do about them.

So on Monday, I got up earlier than I have in months and went to work.

It was nice to see my co-workers in person, rather than through a webcam. Although the office was still quiet compared to normal (or at least the old, pre-COVID normal). Sometimes eerily quiet.

There were some nervous moments, especially on the train, where it can be hard to physically distance yourself from other people. It’s also winter here, and you inevitably come across people with sniffles and other cold-like symptoms. But I got through my first week unscathed and lived to write this to you. 😉

I have no idea what the future brings. But I suppose all I can do is face it as it comes, cover my coughs and sneezes, and wash my hands properly. And hope others are doing the same.