Loneliness in lockdown
By: Salman Anwar
Tags: London, Lockdown, Covid 19

My thoughts and feelings of the first lockdown

An empty carriage during lockdown

Now we’re coming to the end of the year, I thought I would write about three central themes of 2020 for me; loneliness, loss, and losing it. The Ls, guess I’m just a sucker for alliteration.

When did the lockdown actually start? It all really happened in stages. The way Coronavirus slowly made it’s way, from China to Italy, to us in the UK. With ever increasing interventions, added restrictions. The idea of lockdown kind of developed and evolved for people at different times.

For me, lockdown really became a material concept on Monday 16th March. That was the day the Prime Minister asked us all to avoid social contact, that we should avoid pubs, restaurants, clubs, and theatres. That was also my last day at the office. A weird, confusing day that ended with the Prime Ministers press conference, with one colleague heading to their family home and another in complete, and understandable, denial at how bad the situation was becoming. I remember that I ended up shouting at them, worried that my Dad could catch it and become ill. Turns out I was right to be worried, but for different reasons. But we were all confused and stressed. Lockdown was approaching, we were panicking, and we went home not knowing when we would be back.

I’ll be honest, not having to wake up to commute to work was a somewhat attractive, novel idea at first. The idea we were living through a deadly pandemic, but to do our bit all we had to do was stay inside was felt good, felt like it was easy to do our bit, play your part. I felt absolutely privileged to be one, employed when so many friends were losing their jobs, but two, being able to do my job from home. I will always have complete admiration for the healthcare workers who have helped us every step of the way through this pandemic. But also, the supermarket staff, while everyone was panic buying bags of penne were helping keep the country fed. You even appreciate the small things, like the bins! The bins getting collected, a blessing, thank you to the bin men and women that still went on to keep our streets clear.

So we entered the lockdown, not knowing when it would end, not knowing how this pandemic would play out, but the idea we’d get through this, and we could play our part by sitting at home and watching Netflix over the next few weeks. Again, acknowledge what a privileged position I was in. No need to worry about my Dad, he was vulnerable but at home watching Netflix too, one of his seven children delivering a food shop to my parents’ doorstep.

The idea of lockdown entered my life from the 16th of March. But the idea of The Lockdown came when the Prime Minister addressed the country. Not a press conference, he addressed the nation. All channels showing the Prime Minister’s address. That we were only allowed to leave the house for a limited number of reasons. Only leave the house for one form on exercise. That non-essential shops were closed. That my parents’ shops were forced to close. This was serious. This was The Lockdown.

This post is about loneliness but it didn’t hit straight away. I felt very blessed to be able to keep in touch with so many friends, with my work colleagues, benefiting from the privileges of the internet and technology. I could still FaceTime my parents every day. I could call my friends whenever. It didn’t feel lonely. I was living in a house of five too. We were all very separate. No shared living space. All ensuite rooms. Some of us didn’t even know each others’ names, but it was comforting to know you were living in a house with others.

But then they started to leave. They started to lose their jobs. They moved back home to work from home there. I woke up one night at 1am to noise downstairs, one of my flatmates was running to go home, leaving a lot of stuff. He was nice, and then he was gone. I didn’t talk to them at all, bar the infrequent “alright?” but the comfort had gone in a few days. I was living alone, totally alone.

It was then I started to become aware of my loneliness. I lived in a beautiful part of London. Since I was a child moving to London was always a dream of mine, and living in the shadow of some of its most famous skyscrapers was a dream come true. I loved exploring the buildings, finding new, nearby green spaces. Taking my camera out, headphones in, letting the world pass by was bliss. But that was it. I had Zoom, I had Houseparty, but when you turn everything off you’re just starting back at yourself alone in your bedroom.

I realised the longest conversation I had during lockdown, with an actual human being, was asking for a carrier bag in Asda. And they are different. You do have a different connection with someone when you talk to them face-to-face versus over a laptop. I thrive off that connection. I hate being alone. I can enjoy my own company, but I enjoy being around others, just talking about anything. I realised I hadn’t said anything to anyone for days and weeks on end. That I could sing in the shower, that I can laugh over Zoom, but I just wasn’t talking to anyone, in the flesh, and being able to hear their voice respond to me. It’s hard to explain how you can feel so lonely yet still be in contact with so many. I used to roll my eyes at those concerned about the lockdown, and I still think the immediate health risk of Coronavirus was the priority, but I totally underestimated how hard it hits you, living in complete solitude for months on end.

I celebrated Eid alone. I’m not a massively religious man, if at all, but it did really bring home how mad it was to live through this. Instead, on Eid, I walked across London with my camera. Serene, but lonely nevertheless.

I’ve not added a lot about my mental health in this because I’m writing another piece on my mental health but mainly because I don’t want to be too dramatic. Being alone was really tough for so many. It was hard for me. But I don’t want to say it severely impacted my mental health because it didn’t. I got to go back to the office, which I love, in July. I was very fortunate that I could talk to a lot of my friends regularly. Getting back into work really saved me from feeling so alone. Seeing people, talking to people, just being around people was comforting. It was tough for me because I enjoy company, I enjoy being around people, but it wasn’t as tough as I know it was for others.

But my mental health did suffer, in part due to loneliness and isolation, towards the second half of the year, and due to events I’ll explain in my next post. But in this post, I wanted to explore my version of loneliness in lockdown.