A Hidden Death From Covid

I heard recently of the death of someone who died over the Christmas period. It was a sudden unexpected death and it went unnoticed for some days.

Friends telephoned their friend over a period of two or three days, assuming they might have gone back to family for Christmas. 

They left messages and heard nothing so went round to the person’s home to see if they were there but just not answering the phone. No answer so the police were called. 

The property was securely bolted so it was hard to get it. Experts were needed to remove the protective locks and doors.

Inside, it was as friends and family feared. The person's life force was gone.

The cause of death has been given to some extent so relatives and friends can go on with their mourning. There are toxicology reports to come through but, while those are necessary, they will not impede the process of what happens next.

Meanwhile, there are relatives and friends, officials such as police, medics, locksmiths and paramedics, who are likely to have experienced some form of trauma at the way this poor person left this world. They may be used to dealing with tragic and emergency cases but that doesn’t make it any easier.

And somehow such a death over Christmas seems to make it worse, to die all alone when many of us are celebrating with our loved ones at this time.

I’m told that those who entered the person’s home were shocked at the squalor. There was dirt - of all kinds - and mess as though nothing had been cleaned for years. Takeaway cartons were discarded where they were finished; empty bottles of alcohol lay beside chairs and a sofa and there were no sheets on the one double bed. Just a mattress with a pillow. Nothing else.

The signs might indicate someone with depression or an alcohol problem. I don’t know, I never knew this person. What I am told, however, is that pre the pandemic, they enjoyed meeting friends and going out to the local pub. True, they rarely invited friends into their home but some had been there and not seen anything to concern them.

So, what seems to have changed someone from being a reasonably sociable human being into a total recluse in a period of just less than two years? Yes, that’s what I suspected too. Covid.

It seems this person went into extreme covid-protection mode. They - I’m keeping this gender-free for confidentiality reasons - was very afraid and took the government’s laws, rules and regulations as seriously as it was possible to take them. Perhaps even to extremes.

They ordered all their shopping online, left it outside to allow any germs to dissipate and then slowly and laboriously carried it in with surgical gloves and then washed it all through again. I don’t know how the takeaways were managed but they seem to me to give an indication that, despite all this extreme care (even obsessive behaviour) this person still wanted to live.

So, imagine, you go from being a mildly outgoing person some two years ago with, admittedly some tendencies that a professional might wonder at and bring to your attention, to somebody who continues to live but seems to have also completely shut down. 

The problem was, because of lockdown, such extreme behaviour went unnoticed. There were no checks or balances because no-one was there. All state-run organisations had gone to ground, including GPs, social workers, community carers, and to be fair they were only doing what they were told to do. Everyone had to be kept away. 

That also applied to families. If you were individuals who were all part of one family but lived separately, you either had to bundle together or stay on your ownsome. Unsurprisingly, many people chose to continue to live on their own. After all, it was only going to be for three weeks or so, wasn’t it?

And, in case, we forgot to comply with the latest law or rule - not for our own good, you understand, but either to keep the NHS safe (isn’t it supposed to keep us safe?) or to protect others - we were threatened with a possible £10,000 fine or even a 10-year prison term.

Meanwhile, those who had imposed such draconian laws on us have now been found to have been partying their way around lockdown from almost the start of it. 

So, when I heard about this latest death, I felt both sad and angry because of what covid and lockdown has left for us. 

This particular death will never be added to that strange number reported on the TV and radio that is signalled as being “with” covid, rather than “from” covid - making the numbers impossible to understand. 

Instead, the death certificate will register something quite different. A sad tragic accident that ended the life of someone who was perhaps a little vulnerable. We can be momentarily upset but not too concerned; it’s unusual after all.

Except that I worry it’s not. I imagine there are many more sad deaths like this one that will never be recorded as they should be. Deaths that might have been avoided if not for lockdown and its strange, unconsidered laws and rules that forced us to comply, even when we disagreed. We know they were unreasonable because the behaviour of our political leaders shows us. They partied. They did not believe they were going to die. 

So where do we go from here? I’d suggest it’s an easy one. No apologies, no lessons to be learnt, no waiting for inquiries. Just no. 

We must never let this happen again. 

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash 

Photo by Deleece Cook on Unsplash

2022 - Facing a Fearless Future

Sometimes a person’s brain seems to be particularly susceptible to an external message. Say, for example, you’re experiencing a feeling of hunger while not being aware of the actual feeling. You may be watching television and you see someone eating some chocolate. “I know,” you think, “I wonder if I’ve got any chocolate. I feel the need for something sweet.” And off you go, none the wiser. 

And that’s how advertising works. By persuading the unaware person that what is being sold is what you want. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s just clever psychology.

One phrase has been resonating with me more and more in the past few weeks.  

Don’t be afraid!” is the command I hear, even when I’m least expecting it and when I’m not doing anything that needs particular care. It arrived a number of times over the festive season and it seems to have snuck up from somewhere in my subconscious to reach my conscious mind where it’s been hammering ever since. It’s a constant - one that keeps popping into my head - like an earworm but without the jaunty jingle. 

It doesn’t take too much reflection to understand from where this may be coming. The past two years of our lives have been dominated by fear, not just individually but as a collective. It’s been an extraordinary and exhausting time.

The arrival of Covid-19 at the beginning of 2020 (there are indications it was in Europe as early as November 2019 and the clue may be in the name) took the UK from what appeared to be a nation looking forward with a reasonable share of optimism to a country full of despair. Hopeless, in fact.

Suddenly, we went from being a society full of mainly sociable people to a group of fearful and isolated individuals and the longer we stayed like that, the more fearful we became.

It’s easy to look back and suggest things should have been done differently. Who knows? There’s to be an inquiry into the official handling of the virus and that will offer up its findings in due course. The data will be telling but what it says, I imagine, will be dependent on who’s listening. 

What we do know is that it has always been open to interpretation and, even as recently as last month, we were still being kept in a vortex of terror. One day we were being allowed and encouraged to believe life was on the verge of returning to normal, the next day came omicron and the threat of another complete lockdown. Our political leaders appeared to have no idea - though the scientists seemed determined that their way was the right one - and we were back to a level of uncertainly that does not improve with age. 

There is a glimmer of hope though because there may be signs that we could be experiencing the beginning of the end. If the virus is mutating into a less deadly form, or if the vaccinations are as effective as hoped, then there will be no need for another lockdown.

So what are we to do about the fear factor with which some of us are still left? 

Some people argue that we need to be kept apart and isolated for the good of society as a whole; the opposite of how we were used to interacting. Those people - including some influential scientists - seem to enjoy the status quo. I puzzle to understand that and look to the past for an explanation.

Philosopher Thomas Hobbes put forward the idea of offering total allegiance to the sovereign in exchange for safety. You put your all (including material possessions) at the feet of your sovereign and, in return, he kept you safe. If not, the contract was void. Hobbes was living during the Civil War so we can perhaps understand his reasoning. 

Psychoanalyst Erich Fromm, in The Fear of Freedom, argued that humans are not actually that keen on individual freedom and are drawn to having rules imposed on them from above. That, he explained, was the reason for the rise of the desire for a totalitarian state. He was writing in the 1940s, during World War II, so we can again see his influences.

And moving into the present, journalist Laura Dodsworth talking specifically about this pandemic discusses the theory that it’s easier to control a population if we make them frightened. I don’t think we can deny that we have been frightened. 

I’m hoping against hope all this was not a deliberate plan to frighten us. However, I’m one of those people who believe it’s time to escape from this almost-solitary confinement and to take the risk of living again. 

We need to be brave and draw on the strength we all have within us if only we remember. Personally, I’m going to acknowledge I’m afraid - no, maybe not afraid, maybe just nervous - while continuing with the “don’t be afraid” mantra to allow me to take those first delicate steps to reconnect with the world outside. 

I may even dust down my edition of Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway and see what extra tips I can glean. The one thing I do know is that I’m not going to allow another two years to go by before I get back my old level of bravery.

If you watched the latest Strictly Come Dancing, you’ll remember the inspiration winner Rose Ayling-Ellis, who has been deaf from birth. She showed what an amazing talent she is and how resilience and perseverance can pay off. 

She posted this on Instagram: “Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually the confidence will follow.”

Wise advice.  

 

Photo 1 by Fuu J on Unsplash

Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash

Social Media and the Drama Triangle

Social media may be punching way above its weight. What was intended to be a great source of friendship across all worlds, seems to have turned into a constant fight fest. Facebook was well-liked until the algorithms meant we stopped hearing what our friends were up to and were instead directed to specific sponsored sites “they” thought were good for us. Worthy or not, who knows, but certainly pretty dull. Time to tune out.

So, following the young - always way ahead of the late adapters - and moving on to Instagram, Snapchat and TikTok these, too, seem to be the preoccupation of would-be influencers hoping to attract enough followers (I think it’s 10,000+) to gain sponsorship and financial reward.

And then there’s Twitter and its not-so-merry band of tweeters. In a time where pleas of “Be Kind” are on everyone’s lips, who would enjoy hearing about the appealing sound of tweets. Except, of course, we know that’s not what the Twittersphere is all about. It’s about FURY, SHOUTING, TROLLING, INSISTING ONLY YOUR OPINION IS RIGHT. And so on. Anything but kind.

There is always one twitterstorm or another because they’re easy game for articles in the old-school media. The way it works is a journalist looking to fill a website looks on Twitter to see what is trending. More often than not, it’s a quarrel that excites. That trend gets picked up, written about, and distributed to millions more readers. And the original “storm” (probably a couple of rude messages) gets blown up into a giant argument which we at home can all discuss and feel as if we’re taking part in some countrywide conversation.

I’ve followed some news stories recently and am reminded of the Drama Triangle, a theory developed by Stephen Karpman, a follower of Eric Berne, the Canadian psychiatrist who developed the psychotherapeutic practice of Transactional Analysis.

Put simply, the idea behind TA is that our life consists of communication transactions that are governed by a series of games. These are not fun games and Dr Berne’s aim as a psychotherapist was to help his clients find a satisfactory way of nativigating through the emotional miseries of such games to achieve a good outcome.

The Drama Triangle is an inverted triangle involving a group of three: the victim, the rescuer and the persecutor.

So, imagine for example, that you are a famous sports person who is accusing another person of racist remarks. In that case, you would be the victim. You are the person who is being picked on. You put this out into the public eye and you are pleased and relieved that the painful episodes you have talked about are supported by many of those who read or hear your story. “This is wrong,” they rightly say. “This should not be happening.”

Those supporters could also be described as your rescuers. They may have not been there when the offence was given but they are going to look out for you and ensure that your complaints are taken seriously and no-one’s going to be unkind to you again. That makes sense and it seems like a good outcome for everyone.

And then … somebody starts taking a look at your own old tweets; tweets you had sent years when you were still a teenager and those tweets are re-reported in the media. Suddenly, the feeling is not so good. Your rescuers may be wondering why they stepped in and they awkwardly step away. Suddenly, you go from victim to persecutor and it’s an uncomfortable position to be in. You apologise but the damage is done.

Or maybe you’re a TV presenter who’s admired within media circles and beyond for your talent across both serious and light-hearted platforms and the public likes you too. You’ve had a meteoric rise from hard work and luck in the print world and you’re now tipped as the next big star presenter on TV.

And then you do a documentary on a prominent family while working for an impartial organisation and there’s a bit of pushback. This time, it’s not tweets that come back to haunt you, it’s one-liners in editorials you wrote in your newspaper days. In another short period you’ve gone from persecutor (through your documentary) to victim of those laying into you for that very same programme. Your employers move into a rescuing role as they tell all the critics they have full confidence in you. You, meanwhile, are probably feeling a little vulnerable.

There’s a final story of a former stand-up comedian turned actor (in my view, very good at both) who seems to have inadvertently launched a pre-emptive strike to save himself from being a victim of the Drama Triangle by confessing to his persecuting ways during his stand-up years and hoping that full and frank disclosure will avoid any future reckonings. 

So how do the rest of us avoid these drama triangle moments, particularly where social media is involved? It probably helps if you’re not famous. The fewer people read your tweets, the less likelihood of a backlash. 

If you are famous - or know someone is - it’s best to try to remember to stay in Adult mode as TA therapists might advise. Be rational, argue from a logical, reasonable point of view and stay well away from your naughty or emotional Child state. That means no tweeting or social media arguing when you may have had a drink and judgment may be impaired. And, if all else fails, remember to delete your old tweets and/or messages.

Photo by Adem AY on Unsplash

Photo by Alexander Shatov on Unsplash

 

The Shocking Pain of Loss

A friend of mine died recently. It was unexpected and the news came as a sudden and great shock. I heard about it via a message from her mobile phone. To read a message from her number telling me that she is no more made it seem all the more unbelievable. 

Much of my work centres around loss, with bereavement perhaps being the greatest of all losses. I like to believe that, as an experienced practitioner within this field, I know how careful and sensitive I need to be when I’m working with a client who is suffering.   

It may be, however, that experience can make a so-called professional just that little bit blasé. Not consciously and never arrogantly or intentionally but because our experience may give us an understanding of how time really will help (whatever you feel in the moment) and our learning will hopefully allow us to lead you along that painful path until you can begin to manage on your own. We may not mean to know best but we may sometimes inadvertently slip into such a sense.

In a way, such a thought process is both natural and inevitable; to be so overwhelmed with empathy for each client’s sad story would mean we would no longer be able to do our work as well as we would want to. We need to be able to support, hold and be there for our client but we also need to be able to stand back. It’s one thing walking with them on their journey, it’s another trying to merge with them or claim their suffering is ours too. That would not be right.

That is what I might have said before experiencing my own reaction to the news of my friend’s death. Not now, however. 

My experience was visceral. I had a sense of not being able to understand what I was reading followed by disbelief. The message from my eyes to my brain was clear but my brain could not grasp it. I had to read the message again, and again. I still couldn’t take it in. I read it aloud to a friend who was with me and who knew of this person. Did saying it aloud help? I’m not sure. I don’t think so. 

Let me tell you a little about my friend, a creative force of nature. She was an award-winning stand-up comedian; a poet; a writer; a teacher and a loyal and entertaining friend. She was a great cook, a great traveller and an all-round bon viveur - a lover of life. She also had a waspish tongue and sharp wit that could inflict a fair bit of damage if she disapproved of what you were saying and you were on the receiving end of it  - I was once, and it did. 

She was a tall blonde beauty in her youth and had matured - she might question that word - into a glamorous and sophisticated woman of the world in her middle years and the wisdom she’d gained over the years honed her natural gifts. Above all, she was a truly vibrant human being, full of energy and life and still with many plans for what she was going to do next.

Then, within a month, she was gone, leaving friends, colleagues and students feeling bewildered and bereft. As in life, she had her devoted friend by her side and supporting her at her end. 

My strong reaction to her death surprised me. It’s reconnected me with the emotions that a person goes through when s/he loses someone dear to them. The difference between “imagining” how I’d feel and actually “feeling” a personal loss is stark.  

I’ve learned from this - though I’d prefer my friend were still here and I was still ignorant - that I need to remain open to my own feelings, rather than perhaps using my own counselling role as a shield. 

We live in a cynical age and it’s easy to get caught up in it. It’s sometimes easier to sneer than to praise, and it may be a way of guarding against feelings of disappointment. If we don’t hope for much, then we won’t feel bad about losing much. But does that make for a good life? I think not. 

In this month of remembrance of people who seemed to be so much more idealistic than we are, I like the idea of trying to reconnect with some of that desire for something better or desire to protect the good qualities and values we have.

I’m aware that I’m preaching and that’s not part of my role which is to reflect, observe and point out those observations to a person who is looking to gain some understanding and relief in their own life. I feel, though, this is part of a reflection caused by her untimely death.

And so, back to my friend. I'm not going to say RIP to her because I’m not sure that’s what she’d want. I’m going to hope instead that somewhere in a parallel universe, there’s another fabulous party going on featuring the best champagne, the most delicious food, the best reggae music and my friend at the centre of it all, sprinkling her bon mots to her devoted attendees. I hope she’s having fun.

Meanwhile, still on this planet, thank you, Ms A, for continuing to teach me even after you’ve gone. I’m going to keep you in my heart and hope to honour you by remembering just what your loss has meant to me. 

Photo 1:  Egor Myznik on Unsplash

Photo 2:  Marc-Antoine Dubé on Unsplash

Time for a Collective Deep Breath

It wasn’t so long ago that we were all social-bubbled up together and longing to see our loved ones again. The fear of coronavirus left us restricted in a way that, pre-March 2020, we could never have imagined. 

After some false and unnerving starts, release slowly went ahead until now we are - almost - back to normal. Those most at risk are double-vaxxed and even boosters are on their way. 

We can mix and match pretty well as we like and it’s now up to us to work out sensibly how we can manage our own lives after this terrible and traumatic event. Isn’t that fantastic and exciting and cause for real celebration? You’d think so, wouldn’t you? At least I would. But that’s not what I’m observing.

I remember expecting there would be initial relief at the end of the fiercest restrictions and then I wondered if there might be a fair amount of anger because of the impositions. 

It’s rather like when you “mislay” a child in your care. First, there’s disbelief. This hasn’t happened, the child has not vanished. Then, there’s a growing sense of panic as you realise s/he is not there. There’s the search as you grow ever more frantic and then they are found - by you or someone else and you have this overwhelming sense of relief that they are safe.

If you’re the average parent/caretaker (or not, in this case) you are very likely to have a sense of fury against the little person who’s put you through all this. Fortunately, most of us react by a quick shout, possibly face up close (you shouldn’t but it happens) and then a tug on the arm as we ensure they remain firmly within our grasp.

The wisest among us remember that this a child; s/he did not do it on purpose and, in a perfect world, they would never have become separated from us. We draw a deep breath, reach down to reassure our little companion and suggest we need to look after each other better in future. Job done. Until the next time.

I’m hoping you’ll see where I’m heading. Of course, Covid’s not the child but the reaction to what’s happened is not dissimilar. Disbelief, fear, panic about the unknown and, later, fear about the known, followed by relief that all is going to be okay. And now I can get angry.

That seems to be where we are right now. Angry with everything and searching for somewhere to vent our fury. Last week, it was one thing (like many others, my memory and timeframe is not what it was before lockdown); this week it’s the HGV driver shortage and next week goodness knows what we’ll have found to worry us.

I was expecting anger but not at the rate it’s happened. It’s like a collective Mexican wave but not in a good way. Or maybe it’s as though all the trolls from social media have jumped out of their make-believe slots and into the real world. 

It is extraordinary. An oil company publicly reveals (why?) it’s restricting fuel supplies and suddenly everyone’s queuing for petrol at such a rate that the self-fulfilling prophecy comes true. Garages run out of petrol.

I watch this on the news and reflect on the strangeness of one group of people lying down on a motorway as they try to find ways of saving the planet while another - much larger - pushes out endless, unhealthy fumes as they queue to fill up their cars with petrol, just in case.

Just in case of what? I’m a little confused. Where is everyone going and whatever happened to the enthusiasm for working from home? I was under the impression that WFH was still the employment of choice, but I appear to be wrong. Now, we all want to be in our cars, dashing to and from work, meeting to meeting, school runs or gym appointments. Concerns about climate change are suddenly way down our radar.  

A Martian looking down on us might wonder at the madness of all of this. Eighteen months ago, we were talking about “being kind” to one another; clapping NHS workers and vowing that, if we got out of this, we’d be a much more caring and sharing society in the future. Now, we’re back to shouting at the authorities to do something and having punch ups in petrol queues. Doesn’t sound too kind to me.

I can certainly spot a fair few troubles on the horizon. It may be there will be fewer presents at Christmas (that’s also something to do with the huge container ship that was stuck in the Panama Canal for weeks, I believe) and turkeys which have not voted for Christmas may escape our dinner table because of the CO2 problem - ah yes, I remember now, that that was last week’s issue - but there we go. Maybe it’s a good time to consider whether less may be more after all. 

There are people who have suffered in this period and are suffering still. They deserve all the support we can give them and they have every right to be both angry and sad. 

But for those of us who are still healthy, still have their loved ones and have had a relatively easy ride during this very disturbing time, I’d suggest we take a moment to experience that relief at finding ourselves in a reasonably good place. Stay still, take a deep breath and, just for a second, be grateful.  

Photo 1: Timothy Elbery on Unsplash

Photo 2: Tai's Captures on Unsplash

Why Every Court Needs A Fool

Anyone who knows anything about Shakespeare’s plays will know one of the starring roles often belongs to the fool.

He is the person who tells it like it is. He’s the one who advises the monarch not to do what he’s about to and who foresees what might happen if he does. (His other role is to keep both the monarch and the audience amused in the more tedious parts of the play but that is for another time.)

Usually, the monarch ignores him and the result is a tragedy that we the audience can predict because it’s so clearly obvious to anyone and everyone. Except, of course, the king.

I give you King Lear and poor Tom (other fools are available). Lear, against advice, gives his kingdom away to his daughters and, after a very long and miserable tale, ends up being homeless, going mad and dying of grief. It would be an unwise fool to say: “I told you so” after that.

The fashion for jesters within the seats of power began in the Middle Ages but gradually died out. I’m wondering if it’s time we brought them back; not just for royals but for all those in positions of power and who have some control over our lives.

In the world of the ordinary person - us - we usually have at least one person who’s quick to tell us when we’re in danger of making a wrong decision. If we choose not to listen to them, we also have our inner voice which sometimes irritatingly questions whether we should really do what we’ve set our heart on.

But what about if you have no-one who feels about to say that to you. What if your future is in their all-powerful hands? In that case, I’m not sure I’d dare to make an observation. 

I’ve been thinking more about this after reading of some of the seemingly unfortunate errors of judgment made by our own monarch-in-waiting in his quest to raise money for his charities. 

It seems there are some ethical concerns about who has been giving to charity and what they may have been looking for in return. The idea, surely, is that you give money to charity so you feel like you’re doing something good for society. That in turn leaves you feeling happy inside - and that’s your reward.

Except it doesn’t seem to be. Such an idea seems a little naïve. These people who give substantial amounts of money to charity - particularly royal charities - seem to be expecting quite a bit more. A royal meeting perhaps, a public honour in reward or, in the case of contributions to political parties, access to the top people. Obvious really.

If it’s so obvious, I’m curious to understand why those in charge don’t understand what’s going on. 

The politicians do, of course. They fully comprehend it’s a trade-off and their task is to balance what they can actually offer with what the donor demands. Some politicians do it better than others. Ironically, our current politician-in-chief made quite a career out of being a public jester until he decided to go for the top job. Now some people say they expect him to get serious and find him less of a laugh than they once did.

Putting political machinations to one side, let’s return to our future head of state. Poor Prince Charles. It does seem to me as though he’s trying his best but unfortunately he doesn’t seem to employ anyone who will point out the pitfalls of some of his choices. 

If he had a court jester asking him to question why someone might want to contribute hundreds of thousands of pounds into a charity of which he is patron, he might maybe ask the question himself. It’s great to be given money with no strings attached but not so good when the ultimate cost may be your reputation.  

Similarly, a jester might ask why another member of your family felt it was okay to be given free lifts on private jets just because he happened to be a prince? He might ask how that fitted with your well-publicised views on saving the environment. Or it might be that he (jesters do not seem to have been female) might question whether the introduction to a particular young lady might not be appropriate and could land you with a heap more trouble than you’d bargained for?

If there is no-one within your court to challenge your behaviour, however are you going to know what’s good or bad, right or wrong? And, therefore, how are you going to manage to make the right ethical or moral decision when you need to? Such a process requires both practice and wisdom; how are you going to get that if no-one ever questions you? 

A royal biographer recently told of how surprised she was by ordinary people’s reaction to meeting royalty. They laughed loudly at their jokes, become speechless - even when captains of industry or in similarly successful positions - and seemed generally overawed. And that’s the problem, if we are in awe of a person, how can we possibly challenge their behaviour?

I read that the Queen Mother’s family, the Bowes-Lyons were among the last grand family to have a jester within their aristocratic circle. Prince Charles often sought advice from his grandma. Maybe it’s time to revisit that idea. He might find it a worthwhile investment in the long run.

Photo 1 by Deleece Cook on Unsplash

Photo 2 by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Photo 3 by Colin Watts on Unsplash

    

Facing The World Again

A few weeks ago, many of us were wondering when life was going to be back to normal again. In the past days, we’ve had the terrible story of Afghanistan and the natural disasters in Haiti and who’s now talking about Covid?

Funny how the world moves on so fast.

Just for a moment, I’m just going to pop back to that pandemic time. The time when no-one was looking for missing Foreign Secretaries (who knew he’d managed to escape the country and gone off to Crete for a holiday) or US Presidents and were simply wondering whether or not they should be wearing a mask.

Sorry to sound so trivial but it’s something I’ve noticed quite a bit in the weeks since we were told masks would be voluntary and it was up to the individual to decide if you wanted to protect your neighbour by wearing a mask or if you’d rather be a bad citizen and not do so, particularly in crowded places.  

At the beginning of the time when the pandemic was officially declared in Britain - March 2020 - I remember hearing an NHS consultant declaring absolutely and emphatically than masks did not make a difference. “Right,” I thought. “I’ve been told by someone with much more expertise and knowledge than I have, so I’ll be guided by him. I won’t wear one.”

Gradually, the advice changed. We were locked down, told to go out to exercise no more than once a day and only shop when absolutely necessary. We complied, to the declared surprise of those who governed us, and the edicts came through quicker and faster. If you were interested in the psychology of humans, it was fascinating.

Our belief that we were a nation of freedom-loving individuals seemed to disappear in an instance. We complied and complied and complied. And now, some 18 months later and with some very public misbehaviour by those who insisted we had to do it, there are a good few of us who feel so afraid they appear to want society to remain in some form of lockdown for a good while yet.  

The evidence is all around you. Look on the street (in the open air) there are people of all ages who are still masked up. If you have venture into a shop without a mask, you may find yourself being looked at, and not with approval. It's a little intimidating.

I was stopped and asked by a (masked) security guard at an exhibition I was attending why I was not wearing a mask. I told him I wasn’t obliged to as the rules post-July 19 had changed and it was up to me to decide whether I wished to wear one. He continued to disagree so I pulled the exempt card. Before you feel annoyed with me yourself, I can assure you I have been offered an exemption certificate. However, when mask-wearing was compulsory, I chose to conform, for the sake of others. 

The guard nodded sagely and probably mumbled something that I didn’t hear because of his mask and we left it there. He went back to his seat in the corner and I continued to walk around, feeling awkward and aware that I was being looked at by others. I didn’t like that at all. I felt like I was behaving in some sort of anti-social way when I wasn’t.  I was behaving within the law and exercising my right to choose.

You might wonder why not just stick with wearing the mask, until the fear dies down or more people decide to put theirs away. I wonder that too but that leaves me feeling I am allowing my rights to be eroded bit by bit. As a psychotherapist/counsellor, part of my job is to help people to come to their own conclusions about what - within the law - is right for them. How can I encourage others to stand firm in their beliefs if I am so easily swayed in mine? 

A colleague told me of their own experience travelling outside their recently imposed comfort zone and onto a (not-so) smart motorway. They told me how a journey they usually found easy and painless was fraught. Fellow drivers, they said, seemed to slam on the brakes at every opportunity. Some drivers sped past them appearing to be going dangerously fast but most were very much erring on the cautious side and that in itself was alarming. Too fast is dangerous but driving too slowly on a motorway that has no safe parking space brings its own risks too. 

Who cares, you may ask?

Fair enough, some might say. But not me. I say I - you, we - must care. It matters. The whole point of being an adult is that we take responsibility for ourselves, make our own decisions and take our own (measured) risk. It’s what life is all about. If we allow ourselves to be put into such a position of fear that we need to look to others - our political leaders - to tell us what to do, we are being taken back to a child state and how does that help us with our own individual journey through life? Think about it.

The Sage committee has been advising the government on managing its people during this pandemic. It has around 23 members, some of whom are behavioural psychologists. The government was afraid that the British would not obey. With the help of its advisers, our leaders have found ways to persuade us to obey beyond their wildest dreams. Fear is a powerful motive and have we all been frightened! 

I’m not suggesting you stop caring about protecting yourself and others from this frightening virus. I’ve had my vaccinations and am not yet ready for the all-night raves. I’m still treading cautiously. But I’m also keen to take back control of my life. Removing my mask is the way I plan to start.

Photo 1: Evgeni Tcherkassi on Unsplash 

Photo 2: Crawford Jolly on Unsplash

Photo 3: Belinda Fewings on Unsplash