I haven’t written for a long time.

Not because I haven’t had things to say. God, I have mountains of ideas floating around my head daily at the moment. The selfishness, the arrogance, the bureaucracy, the outright hate that is part of the way we live now. For a ranty, self-righteous writer like me, the possibilities are frankly endless.

But I haven’t been writing, because I have hit a very specific block, which is that I just cannot actually define what it is I think any more.

I feel like a motionless rock in a great crashing ocean storm, full of waves, thunder, lightening, and the occasional ship careering off into the night spilling passengers from each side as it tries to stay upright. I’m not drowning – that’s not what rocks do – but I’m very overcome, by lots of different things all at once, and I’m watching other people drown right in front of me and I’m just here, motionless.

Lovely analogy and all, but I’m not a rock, and so I should be helping. So much is going wrong in the world right now, and I have always advocated for building community, being present, caring for others – and I’m not practising that, so how dare I preach it?

There are so many other things I feel like I’m not practising as well. I feel like a walking contradiction. While my friends have had to stay completely isolated and shield themselves for months, I have been able to go out and do things, but I haven’t felt able to. I’ve been into a supermarket twice, maybe three times, since the start of the UK lockdown, and it still feels utterly terrifying. In many ways, I have shielded as much as someone with a serious condition would need to.

But I went into a pub within a week of them reopening. A pub where there was minimal social distancing and plenty of outright silly behaviour. And I didn’t love it, but I didn’t leave either.

When the UK first started experiencing the impact of Covid-19, back in February/March, I was part of the group who thought we wouldn’t choose to wear masks – the science seemed very clear then that unless the mask is medical-grade it won’t protect you or others – but now, I can’t even walk down a fairly quiet city street without my non-medical, probably useless, home-made mask. And I judge others very harshly for not wearing them, because I know if I had a condition which meant I was exempt, I just wouldn’t leave the house. I believe quite strongly that people who refuse to wear masks are selfish – despite the fact that a couple of months ago, that was the science I was sticking with as well.

I know it’s partially a cultural thing. We are brought up to believe that sticking to our guns is important, that it’s the foundation of who we are. Changing your mind is weakness. Except of course that’s ridiculous, because you should absolutely change your main if you learn new information which renders your previous stance stupid. So, now that I have determined that wearing masks is in fact a good idea, I am free to judge the people who haven’t come to my enlightened way of thinking…

A lot of this, of course, is about saturation of information. There’s so much out there that just picking and choosing which truths and which facts you’re going to believe today is a struggle. Three months ago I’d never have considered wearing a mask. Now I wear one whenever I go somewhere indoors. Except for when I’ve been to other people’s houses (as I’m allowed to do) or when people have come to my house (as they are allowed to do) – except those people haven’t been my close friends, still avoiding them of course. Naturally. Obviously. Because all of this is logical behaviour.

And why do I wear a mask everywhere (apart from some places…as discussed)? Because the government told me I should. The same government that I know categorically does not care if I die. How do I know this? Because it is demonstrated daily. But I still follow their rules, even though I know that they regularly lie for their own profit. Because I need to follow some kind of rules, because rules and guidelines and instructions and plans are what make me, personally, feel safe – and my brain is such a mish-mash of information that I can’t make those plans and guidelines for myself any more.

Such privilege, too, with all of these kind of thoughts. That I’m able to stay home, and have my partner do the shopping, or order things online. That I don’t have kids to take care of. That I’m still in a job and don’t need to get out on the streets to protest my very right to even exist.

So then I circle back into a miserable whirlpool of blame and self-loathing. Instead of doing the things I think about, I just hate myself for not doing them, and then that takes up so much time and energy that I end up exhausted and no use to anyone. And another news story breaks and the cycle starts again – I judge, I question, I look for ways to help, I don’t do them, and then I spiral. In between I sleep.

Is this going anywhere, I hear you ask. Well, dear reader, the answer is no, not really. Everything is just a bit confusing right now, and I have wanted, so badly, to write it all down, and failed so frequently to find any of the right words.

These are a few of the right words. Now, I’m off to do some of the things I have been failing to practice

• Donating to Impact Lebanon and Beit el Baraka supporting people in Lebanon
• Contacting some friends and colleagues I should have spoken to long before now
• Finding out more about how I can give back locally, without leaving the house (because I need to recognise that’s a barrier for me right now)
• Watching videos to support Black Lives Matter (something you can do for free, right now – this was the original video, and there have been issues with Youtube and their policies, but there are still a lot of video fundraisers still up)

Today I did a day of work.

After work my lovely fiancé and I took a short drive to stand outside a potential wedding venue and peer through the windows.

Then I came home and changed the world.

Not in a major way at all, I should add. All I did was I got my laptop out, and I wrote a letter (directed to Liz Truss MP, currently serving as Secretary of State for International Trade) and I sent it to my local MP, Rachel Reeves. Yesterday, I had approached my local councillors to ask if they would countersign a letter to Liz Truss, asking for confirmation that US export licenses for riot equipment and various crowd suppressants were being revoked, given the systematic misuse of these items by the US government.

My local councillors supported my views, and suggested a more powerful statement would be a letter from Rachel, on behalf of our whole constituency. Today I didn’t hear an update on the progress of drafting this letter and sharing with Rachel for her to send, so tonight I drafted it and sent it to her myself.

I have no idea if she’ll even see the letter, or if it will be drastically redrafted by her office before it is passed on to Liz Truss. I hope it isn’t, because a big part of my job is drafting communications and I think it’s quite a good letter (though I accept there’s always room for improvement).

So when I say I’ve changed the world, I don’t really know to what extent – it might barely have an effect.

But these actions are so important, because even if it feels potentially ineffective and insignificant, it’s better than nothing. I will never be famous for the impact I have on the world around me, there will be no statues of me, I will not be immortalised for my good deeds. But together, with lots of small actions, we will change the world.

We are living through a revolution, and as white people there are a lot of us who need to learn a lot, quickly, to keep up. I am learning day by day what it means to be an effective ally, including not demanding that my black friends and colleagues teach me, but being ready to listen, hear and learn what they have to say. I am looking for new sources of information, and challenging myself to identify behaviours which aren’t helpful to the wider racial justice movement. I am so lucky to have grown up with a diverse family who travelled and exposed me to a huge range of cultures, nationalities and heritages. I hope my family and friends who are people of colour feel served and supported by me as an ally.

My letter* may go nowhere, but I am choosing not to be silent on this issue.

Black lives matter.

*I haven’t often written to my MP, and initially I struggled to find the right words. While it’s important that if you contact your representatives you do so in your own voice, feel free to get in touch if you’d like to see my letter or use my wording, or if you’d like help drafting any formal communications to your representatives.

There are no easy days.

I actually think that holds true even when there isn’t a global pandemic. There are easier days, which to be honest are usually just the days where there’s a better plan (if you’re me). There are more complicated days, there are days which are physically hard, and emotionally hard, and mentally hard. That’s just being human.

Being human at the moment is difficult, because there are no easy days, and there’s no let-up.

I get up each day and I walk to my odd little loft-office, and I hit ctrl-alt-del and open my laptop and I think about how lucky I am to be a person who still has a job, and a place to do it, and who is still healthy and safe.

But I also feel a wave of anxiety each time I hit ctrl-alt-del because that’s what I’m missing right now. Control, of any kind. I can make plans, but I can’t do anything about the world outside, or the people I support. They are unpredictable factors, and it’s all I can do day by day to try and keep up with them.

This isn’t just a work thing. That accounts for a lot of it, because supporting others is a huge part of my role (it’s literally in the name), but that’s also how I interact with so many people in my life. I have always taken on a caring role, it’s where I fit, and I love to do it. But right now I am struggling to be that supportive person in the way I’d like to be – not because of a lack of will, but because of a lack of way.

And let’s be clear. This isn’t a cry for help. I’m not “struggling” struggling. I just want something which is impossible right now. To control the circumstances around me and others so that I can make everyone’s life easier.

So no days are easy.

I hope we all make it through this ok.

I (like so many others) have been working from home for a week now.

At the start of said week, a friend texted to check in and make sure I was doing ok, and one of the things I said is that I would probably write a lot during this time.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that, because there is a lot in my head, but putting it into words on metaphorical paper is the challenge. It’s not even about having some new and original thought, or some kind of epiphany (lord knows, I’ve never been about that). It’s about being able to turn any of the noise and colour into words and sentences. Honestly, I’ve found myself speechless.

It is not even that the current situation is unprecedented. It is in my lifetime, and in the vast majority of cases, but we know a lot about history, so we know that this kind of thing has happened before. Biology has always dictated it was likely to happen again, which is why the SARS and Ebola crises were both so scary. We have been waiting for our next pandemic for a long time. I’m not shocked that other people are shocked though, because this isn’t expected, or normal. It feels like the big deal that it is (despite the many people still behaving otherwise). It’s such a big deal that it’s a challenge to comprehend. The numbers are already far beyond what I can expand my mind to imagine.

I’m speechless at the international political reaction. Sometimes in good ways, sometimes in less good ways. The people we have chosen (in some cases) to lead us are doing…a job, and only time will tell whether it is a good or a bad one. In the main, I feel like the UK government has said the right things, but a little slower than we needed. The lack of real information provided alongside most of their promises is the thing which leaves me worried though, because saying the right thing is all very well, but putting my fiance out of a job, and then taking two weeks to announce that you’ll also not be giving him any financial support (he started after the furlough qualification date of 1 March) is quite another.

Ultimately, the political decisions which have been made will likely save a lot of people from the coronavirus. But they may drive hundreds of thousands of people below the breadline and into destitution. The UK government may be saying the right things, but saying them after 10 years of destroying our health service and welfare systems, and repeatedly stamping on those who most need their community to stand with them, really reduces the impact of “saying the right thing”.

While we are on the community, the way people have come together (again, metaphorically) over this crisis has been heartening. Yes, there have been burglaries, and scams, but overall the reaction I have seen around me makes me feel proud to be part of my local community, and I hope I’m able to help somehow. I’m also proud of my communities online, made up of the people I work with, sing with and act with, who are continuing to do all of the wonderful things they can from afar.

I don’t know when I am going to see my family again. I don’t even know if I will see them again. That’s a sobering thought.

Like everyone, I’m also so convinced that I’ll “use this time well”. Today, I have spent 6 hours playing Skyrim and watching Ru Paul’s Drag Race, so I think I need to examine what I feel is time well-spent. I’m also doing some online filing though, and I plan to spend tomorrow writing accounts for my choir. As a busy person, having time in the house means ticking a lot of to-do boxes I would otherwise have struggled with, but it’s also hard to see what value any of it will have in the long-term.

Long-term is a difficult concept right now.

I feel like I’ve struggled to engage my creative mind at all in the last week (maybe that’s why I haven’t written anything until now) because I’m so tired. Physically, emotionally, socially – it’s amazing the energy it takes to be engaging over video-conference, and I’m not sure I’m managing it to be honest. Like everyone who is still working through this time, work is taxing right now, it feels relentless and still unsettled despite already being incredibly cyclical and predictable.

I started this blog as a travel blog, and now I am watching other countries shutting down, wondering if I’ll ever get to travel again and what the world will be like when I get there. The UK will probably (in the grand scheme of things) be ok. The developing world is much less secure.

I have no idea where we go from here. I have no linear thoughts, nothing to hold on to, just shapes and colours and tonnes of feelings. I don’t remember a day recently where I haven’t cried, and I have no idea what I’m crying about most of the time.

And on top of all of these thoughts, I am overwhelmingly aware that I am one of the lucky ones. I have a job, I have a house, I’m not alone. I have the time to sit around writing blog posts. I am still well.

When the colours and shapes settle, maybe I’ll do a playlist post or something.

So I’ve seen a lot about International Women’s Day (because that’s what today is), coupled with a lot recently about women bringing each other down – or rather things on social media trying to convince women not to bring each other down.

I think it’s symptomatic of the world we now live in that it is so easily done. Thoughts which used to just be thoughts end up on twitter, or tiktok (whatever that is) or one of the three million other platforms we have at our disposal, and they get a positive response, and suddenly more and more of those thoughts trickle out of your head and onto the internet. It’s actually pretty awful.

I do it. I think a lot of people do. I am currently watching ‘Love is Blind’ on Netflix (truly one of the most ridiculous programmes ever created, just by EXPENSE alone) and I keep finding myself having views on the women on the show. And the guys too, but I do find myself being more critical of the women. Maybe I think I’d be “better” or at the very least “different”? I don’t really know, but it’s there.

Hopefully less frequently, I do it to people in my life as well. And if I’m totally honest with myself, I do criticise the women in my life more than the men. I don’t know why, I’m not suggesting that the men I know make less mistakes, but I am definitely more critical of the women in my life than I’d like to be, and than I probably should be.

So this International Women’s Day, I’m making a commitment to myself, to just be a bit nicer to the women around me. It’s not always easy being a girl – just read anything about the feminist journey, which is very much not over – but being challenged and having barriers put up by other women doesn’t help. I’m going to try not to be that person any more, if I can help it.

There is an image I’ve seen a few times recently. It’s of two people, each looking at the floor between them. In between them is a number, and from the perspective of one, it’s a 6, but from the perspective of the other it’s a 9.

The caption is always encouraging the reader to recognise that other people might have a different, but also valid, perspective. To me though, it perfectly encapsulates our current “post-truth” era. Because listen. It’s either a 6, or it’s a 9. Someone put it there, and it was one of those numbers to them. Or aliens put it there and it means something completely different (probably “don’t stop here, this one’s a mess). Anyway. We now live in a time where it is acceptable to see something, interpret it in your way, and then insist that “truth” upon the world.

And here’s the problem. If we are all allowed to decide what the truth is, then nothing is true any more. And you know who can capitalise on that? Politicians.

In the olden days, we elected representatives to lead our communities in ensuring that our best interests were carried forward to parliament. So we had to pick people who we trusted to represent our best interests, otherwise horrible things happened. To be honest, horrible things happened anyway, because we mostly either weren’t allowed to do the picking (because of not being rich and male, or other made-up reasons) or we picked people who weren’t trustworthy. But because we didn’t know what went on in parliament we had to take it on faith.

Now, we know what goes on, so we know when people are not representing our best interests – which in theory should be a challenge for those elected representatives, especially since now the poor and the female (known for their rebellious tendencies) are allowed to get involved. So now we have to get clever. Now, politicians who don’t want to represent their constituents’ best interests (which is not all of them, but is alarmingly many) are employing the post-truth tactic of convincing us that we are wrong about our best interests. That even though we think our best interests are a 6, if we just look at it from a different angle, we’ll see that our best interests are in fact a 9.

And it’s working.

The demonstration that it’s working is the notion that a significant proportion of the British public genuinely believe that the Conservative party, despite years of weakening the country, will aim to make it better for the majority. I’m sat here, questioning how ANYONE can believe that the Tories will support the NHS, or our education system, because all I can see is a massive 666 smeared across Boris Johnson’s forehead, but somehow there are millions of people around me who are cheerfully seeing a life-saving 999.

It makes you begin to question your reality a little bit. If there are so many people who believe that we shouldn’t help other people through national health provision, acceptable levels of disability benefit, or access to education (to name but a few issues on the table) – then – are those people right? Maybe caring for other people is just wrong?

Here’s my issue though. That’s my truth currently. The echo-chamber makes it difficult, but I’m going to need some persuading that my truth is incorrect. And in a world where truth is somehow up for debate, I am going to keep fighting for my truth against the lies which are propagated by a disingenuous media.

There are a lot of challenges in the post-truth world of politics, not least that even if I’m really confident in my truth, I still have no real trust that the majority of candidates in the next General Election have my truth at the heart of their aims (hugely worrying). But the challenge for us all as constituents is to know what our own truth is, not be led by a media which is lie-ridden and party politics which represent literally none of the concerns of the populace, and to vote for the individuals we genuinely trust to represent us and our best interest.

I rarely try to make political points, but in the lead up to yet another General Election in the UK, this is so important. Know your own mind, register to vote, and then vote for the people who represent your truth.

Oh and by the way, the truth is that we should all damn well care about the rest of humanity, and the planet we live on, and I have yet to hear any kind of compelling argument to the contrary. Because there isn’t one.