Hi again,
It’s me.
It’s been a while. I’ve managed to move, hop, fly 4 times, and here I am. Returning.
I’m in London for the next two weeks for work. How strange to return to a city that once was your city- on the week that marks a year the worlds been in a pandemic.
As I drove through the city from the airport, I felt shock go through my body in a way I haven’t felt in a while. After a 10 hour flight, skipping a day, and a cramped jaw and body, I was in a cab heading north-east. I drove past places I know like the back of my hand, but felt unrecognizable: closed, shut down, ghost-like. No bustling streets. No colors. It felt grey in a way that London isn’t, no matter how much people like to think it is. On top of that, I saw people walking on the street unmasked. Not even chin-masked. Completely unmasked. As I soon learned, London doesn’t like wearing masks, and it is the first time I’ve seen strangers’ bottom half faces in a while, just strolling around, like there’s no pandemic. Shock lasted as I made my way into my air bnb.
A couple days ago, before flying, something similar happened.
I was in the middle of a yoga session at home, and downtown, by majical cloudz started playing. Something took over me. A feeling of nostalgia, a wave of sorrow. And I started crying, sobbing, and missing New York. Missing the life I used to have. The life we used to have. Shock trickled through my body.
I thought of New York at night, I thought of citi bikes through the lower east, I thought of the sticky heat and the cool air, I thought of unmasked faces, hugs, the crowded subway. I thought of sweaty, strange, drunk, dancing bodies. I thought of sweaty, strange, flexible, crowded yoga classes. I thought of 4 am pizza slices, my friends, my classmates, the city alive, unmasked, no fear, no anguish, no mourning.
The tears came out of nowhere, and though I kept trying to calm myself down, catching my breath, I’d then tear up, again, unstoppable. Breakable. If you too find yourself in unexplainable agony, remember you’re not alone.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the collective trauma we have endured. How I don’t think we are fully aware of the wave of grief that is heading our way. I am not sure it’s hit yet, as we survive and try to keep going. As we pretend this is normal. I’m still amazed at the people who have figured out how to pretend like nothing happened, or have decided to move on, party, hire limousines, find a way to achieve normalcy, the new normal, as fast as possible. I don’t judge them. I understand them. And that’s a first for me. This past year has taught me that I judge quickly as a defence mechanism. When I’m scared, I overthink, when I’m scared, I judge, when my expectations aren’t met, I fear. I hope to surround myself with more empathy.
When we return to places we know but feel different, I wonder what goes through our heads. Our bodies. What memories our bodies keep. Every time I come back to London I have a different feeling. Two years ago, this obsession with remembering kept haunting me. To remember, to know, to not forget. I was reaching a level of obsession that was worrying to me. Like forgetting was a sin, like forgetting couldn’t happen to me. I kept trying to remember every single detail of my previous life in London: the underground stops, the bus routes, the 5 different addresses I lived in, my favorite cafes and restaurants, my life with my ex, my classmates. As soon as I couldn’t remember, as soon as I returned mentally to a place or time, panic would sink in.
I wrote:
it’s strange to be back for a long period of time in a place that used to be home but isn’t anymore
ghosts roam the streets haunting different areas
and sometimes you’ve changed so much but it feels like so little, that then impulse to follow up a road and go home still lives inside you, but who knows who lives there now.
and you never liked that house anyway.
what does it mean
And two years later, things still feel similar. Time is it’s own world. Returning and remembering have their own time.
It is incredible that we have hit the one year mark of this pandemic, and though the light at the end of the tunnel seems more real than ever, I know that a lot of repairing needs to be done before normalcy is every reached. I’ll post my diaries next week, but I wanted to share the first one. I wonder if I wrote things down as a means to not forget. But who could forget this collective pain? We’ll see in 6 years.
I’ll see you next week,
Love. Cx
PS: Please take care of your beautiful brains. Your hearts. Please call a loved one, eat your favorite meal. Take it easy. This is your weekly reminder. Cry it out.
16.3.2020
day 3 of self quarantine -
i have decided to keep a diary in these weird days the world is living. it’s the first monday of this global pandemic. the first real monday i think. the first real monday where i’m supposed to be writing. i’m underneath the blue striped covers in j’s bed. now i’m back for air again, it was starting to get too hot.
it’s day 3 of the quarantine. i forgot to brush my teeth until night time, and i wore the same t-shirt i slept in all day. i got back in bed with the nike sweatpants. to make this more... productive i have decided to shower every morning and not stay in my pjs. i can live in pjs but they must be different.
we had kiwis and pistachios and coffee for breakfast. j said he was feeling sick, but. I know it’s the anxiety. I worked on the glamour videos and pulled of 4 videos in a couple of hours. I also managed to make lunch whilst working. macarrones con chorizo. my keyboard doesn’t know the word macarrones.
we watched gossip girl all afternoon. had an apple with peanut butter. I was supposed to do yoga, but we had sex. didn’t exercise. i’m hoping to start tomorrow. we’re going to Sag Harbor in the morning, for a couple of days, to breathe some fresh air. I wish we could stay there... and turn off the news.
I made garlic broth for dinner and sardine toasts with caramelized onion and tomato. it was pretty yummy.
it’s nice to write but this position is uncomfortable. I want to start the meditations I never did that Lourdes sent. and I want to read. and write. and sing and watch real movies. but it’s nice to turn off the noise and reality and not face real feelings whilst watching gossip girl.
I keep getting emails of places getting closed. I’m not going to be able to finish the semester in school. part of me thinks I should have gone back home to spain but I’m hoping and wishing I can go in two, three weeks. by April. it’s going to be J’s birthday soon and I don’t have a present. it’s going to be Nicole’s birthday soon and I don’t have a present. I feel bad. how can I fix this? maybe instagram will give me an idea.
it’s 11:30. we are waking up early tomorrow.
coronavirus sucks.
maybe I can start seeing positive but it’s really hard when your partner is down too. it’s hard times. I am aware. but I need some light and positivity. just a little ray.
good night.