Oof...2020.

 Oof...2020.

As someone born in the year of the wooden ox, this metal rat year was supposed to be great for me. Joey Yap said so...but I guess even he could not predict what was going to go down this year. None of us saw it coming.

We're in the final month of 2020 and my mental health has had quite a journey. The first round of lockdown felt like I was hit by a bus, throw in online learning, all the meals multiplied by three months power to 5 people and you get a math equation I have never done in this lifetime. I hit what felt like rock bottom, but I kept going because well, I had mouths to feed and little people who needed me. 

To keep me going I volunteered to cut plastic aprons for our frontliners. I committed to one plastic bale and then another and then another and then one more. It felt good to have purpose, to do something for people other than yourself. I agreed to teaching some classes online, till well I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

I stopped the classes, I stopped sharing stories on social media, I stopped my own personal practice and sat with all my self-loathing for a couple of months unsure if I would feel better again. Somehow, I did.

The children went back to school at the end of August, I went back to the gym and we hit the ground running. I felt great, I started de-cluttering the house, made space in my basement once again and then the second round of lockdown happened.

This time would be better, I told myself. We were fortunate to borrow two laptops from family and the whole house went online. I pasted all the Zoom IDs and passwords onto the wall in the living room and also stuck all 3 different timetables up. Everyone, would be responsible for their calls and homework. I organised my basement studio and boosted my router. I also decided to offer classes to get myself going, to force myself to practice and share what knowledge I had with others. More than anything I wanted to reconnect and find out how other people were doing and somehow create an online community of healing through art.

Everything was going pretty great in the first month, then the second month came and went, and here we are starting our third month at home and in the final month of the year and all of a sudden I feel the familiar sense of dread, self-loathing, the heavy, sticky feeling of unworth.

I look around my home and am grateful for everything that I lay my eyes on but I am cranky, moody, naggy, irritable and short with everyone. My children shriek with joy at the prospect of heading to my mother's house, where they can get away from me, the grumpy wicked troll of the west.

My children didn't do too well on their online assessments as well and I feel responsible. I tell myself that my children are fortunate to even continue their lessons online but they have fallen behind. They are young, I tell myself and need to be in a physical classroom, to be in the presence of their teachers, to get feedback, to play with their friends, but I am wracked with guilt. What about all the other children out there, falling behind. 

My motivation comes and goes, my grit has worn off, my energy levels are blahh and social media makes me feel like a failure. It makes me feel lazy and unsuccessful. 

As I'm typing all of this I immediately think to myself, stop complaining, stop whining, get off social media, get onto your mat, be grateful, no one cares, there are real problems out there in the world and I feel like I should send this post to the trash. This is the exact reason why I haven't written in so long. Because honestly, I read my old posts and I cringe. I feel embarrassed about how much I wrote and how little I did about it. 

But if I learned anything at all this year it would be that healing is continuous and never ending. That episodes and triggers keep coming back because life is such, and it's okay to feel things because there are no right or wrong feelings. I've also noticed that whenever I feel like this, completely down in the dumps, it usually lasts till I cannot stand it anymore and then I get back up and dust off my knees and continue. 

My hurt has fuelled me to do many things and has definitely assisted me to keep going but the inner turmoil has never really gone away. I am a lot kinder to myself and I catch myself as I spiral down into the abyss but I am not so afraid when I am down there in the dark by myself. 

The cleared basement has helped create an escape room for me to be alone with some Alan Watts and my Spotify playlist. I'm pretty sure I'm doing better, I've grown up a lot this year and have taken responsibility of my emotions and reactions and all my shame.

I am no superhuman and no one really expects me to be one. And that is okay.