This has been a weird year. So many people are grieving for the lives we used to live that a new term has developed: pandemic grief.
I was talking about this yesterday to a friend, as we got more news of internal borders closing in Australia. As the uncertainty increases again - as we face a second-wave of infection and growing restrictions on life - we’re once again having more raw and candid conversations about how we’re all coping. More and more people are acknowledging they’re anxious, they’re not okay.
In June, I started acknowledging my own hurt. I started talking about my diagnosis and reflecting on what has happened to lead me there. Like many people, I struggle with perfectionism but it has been liberating to stop pretending I’m completely okay.
Most days I am, but there are days I still struggle and I know now that’s just part of healing.
This year has changed my life - as it has for many people, in positive and negative ways. It feels like the pandemic and isolation so fundamentally changed life as we know it, and that shift sent fissures through our values, goals, relationships, and more.
I still have times of doubt, hurt and pain. But I think I’ll always remember this year as the year I found my voice and started to heal.