Self-Discovery in Confinement

The lockdown in France was harsh. 

However, it was easy compared to Columbia, where you got a 4-8 year prison sentence for being outside at the wrong time. And it was stricter than in the US. I saw you people on Facebook, out driving around, going to drive-in movies. Crossing bridges. Hiking.

In France, we had to fill out an attestation and carry it with us every time we left home, and yes, the police were checking. Here are the reasons we could leave home:

• Going to grocery stores and pharmacies. That’s all that was open.
• Going to the doctor, although most doctors did video consultations. There was a number to call if you thought you had the virus.
• Delivering supplies to shut-in relatives.
• Dog-walking. 
• Exercising for one hour a day (within 1 km of home and not between 10 a.m. and 7 p.m.).

Parks were closed. Congregating on the streets was forbidden. Police shooed people off sidewalk benches and scattered anybody who loitered. There were checkpoints for cars and motorcycles. There were roadblocks outside Paris to keep Parisians from leaving and spreading the virus over the rest of France. Public transportation was cut by 94%. 

Still, all that time alone wasn't bad. I learned some things about myself, some things that might come in handy later on.

​​I am a complex person with complex emotions. I am capable of feeling love, fear, joy, worry, apprehension, elation, boredom, jealousy, rage, desire, and giddiness all in the same day, sometimes even the same hour. A couple of times, they all happened simultaneously. During confinement emotions were heightened and I became hyper-aware of my mental state. You, too? I decided to just roll with it. I felt my feelings, and it was fine.

​​I did not read. I’m a reader and I have a huge stack of books in my TBR pile. However, I just couldn’t get going. Books didn’t engage me and it took me forever to finish them. Instead, I baked, and I ate all the food I baked (that one seems to have been fairly common.) I talked on the phone, something I hardly ever do. I recorded children’s books to post on Facebook. But I did not read.

I discovered that sorting is soothing. I sorted all my free makeup samples into clear plastic baggies. I alphabetized my piano music. I made my teenager empty the kitchen cabinets and wipe them down, then I threw out half the stuff and put it back in neatly. Ditto for the fridge. And the medicine shelf. It felt great, every time.

I slowed down. Watching the garbage trucks became a delight. When I heard the trucks approach, I would run to my balcony and hang over the edge like a toddler. I watched birds. I watched the wind swirling leaves along the street. I watched people walking past. It was mesmerizing.

I pushed the limits. Sometimes, badly needing a walk during no-exercise times, I’d check “grocery” on my attestation, and go for a walk carrying a tote bag with a cucumber in it as an alibi. Sometimes I walked past my 1 km, prepared to feign ignorance if the police stopped me. One day, a friend and I climbed a temptingly low barricade into a park where we picnicked on the grass, a warm breeze ruffling our hair and a bird asking for crumbs. It was heaven. Not sorry.

I learned that even though I’m an introvert, I need people. I don’t mind working all day at my desk. But at some point during that day, or in the evening, I’m going to need some human contact. My agreeable teenager was a terrific confinement buddy, but another adult would have been great. I missed making apero trays for six, clinking our glasses and murmuring santé. I missed putting a chicken dinner on the table and watching a bunch of happy people devour it, then sit around and talk and laugh and solve the world’s problems. 

I saved money by not being able to buy anything. Turns out, I didn’t really need much beyond what I already owned. Just food, and I had a surprisingly large store of that. Also, plenty of makeup samples.

Privilege. For the first time in my life, I was nervous about the police. The attestation made me afraid. I feared getting caught with wrong paperwork, even when I had double- and triple-checked it. 135 euros isn’t that much, and there were no other repercussions, but I felt the loss of freedom, the fear of the authorities, the nervousness that my papers weren’t in order. Some people live in fear of the authorities all the time, but my white skin has let me be, so far, fearless. And while getting fined 135 Euros in no way compares to getting deported or having your kids taken away or losing your life in a chokehold, the pandemic gave me a taste of how fortunate I’ve been. 

From now on, our job is to keep what we gained during confinement. Primarily, that is the progress we’ve made in slowing down the virus and learning how to cope until there’s a vaccine. But there are also the other lessons--the lessons of taking time and enjoying the little things and always, always appreciating each other’s company.

​Let’s not lose any of that.

Enjoy the flowers on your balcony

To live is to die, right?

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