A Week In My Life (June 2021)

This past month – this module – has been pretty all-consuming, not that I’m surprised as it is the final project of the Masters. This module is called the Major Repertoire Project where we research a particular topic (most commonly one we have a personal passion/connection/investment in) and use the research to write songs on the subject. I’ve been working on an autoethnographic project in the form of an album about my experience as a woman with Autism Spectrum Disorder. It’s a really exciting and fulfilling project to be working on but I won’t deny that it has dug up some hard stuff. And the timeframe does make it more than a bit stressful. But this module is why I wanted to do the Masters and despite the difficulties, it’s definitely been an interesting ride so far.

Other than that, there’s been a lot of other stuff going on, including my health stuff, travelling to London by train again for the first time, and getting my second vaccine!

The week in this post started on Monday 7th June and ended on Sunday 13th June.


MONDAY

I slept late, having swam hard in the pool the night before. I had an early Occupational Therapy appointment so I dragged myself out of bed and had a shower, only just ready in time for the video call. I was still out of breath when the call went through.

The call was somewhat frustrating because the connection wasn’t very good and we had to hang up and call back multiple times. That made it hard to have a real discussion and make any real progress. But we managed to talk about a few things: we talked about the hand exercises I’ve been doing; we talked about the swimming I’ve been doing and how my joints were responding to it; I told her about the ergonomic equipment that was due to arrive later in the week (it came through DSA, which I will talk about at some point because it was a very different experience to my previous DSA experiences); and we talked about the recent awful pain and instability in my right knee. We didn’t come to any conclusion on that and we’re still waiting on the physiotherapy referral; fortunately we live on the same street as a physiotherapist and she was able to give us some general advice. Plus, by the end of the call, we’d had a message from the dentist saying the consultation for my tooth extraction had been booked for Saturday – much quicker than I’d expected. So I was hopeful about that at least.

I ran through the exercises for my hands and then got back to work on my project, various childhood movies from Disney+ playing in the background as I worked. My focus for the day was researching special interests and how they present differently in girls and women. I know a lot about all of this already from my personal research but going through it again is good for both my final presentation and for the creation of the songs in this project. It can get a bit tedious at times, going over a lot of the same material but sometimes I’ll read something I’ve read before and see it with a completely new perspective or I’ll find something new that just gets my wheels turning. And then, suddenly, I’m halfway through a new song.

About mid-afternoon, I was really flagging, hungry and tired. I nearly fell asleep on my desk.

Somehow, I managed not to doze off; I moved around, got some food, and got back to work. I tidied up the research I’d done and then updated the journal we keep throughout the project: record what we do, what we learn, we critically analyse what we learn, write songs using the knowledge or inspiration we find, reflect on that process, etc. I was a few days behind in updating it but I’d mainly been working on the song ideas I’d slowly started pulling together the week before. These songs seem to be taking longer to write than usual; I think I’m just spending a lot of time turning over the core idea and making sure the weight of the song is in the right place – if that makes sense – before I start working out the exact narrative and arranging all of my lyrics ideas.

After several more hours of work, I called it a day on the work. I had a FaceTime call with one of my friends from uni and we caught up about our projects, about plans to actually hang out in person (although it would probably have to be a work-date with everything we have to do for our projects), and the Friends Reunion – we were even quoting in unison from the show by the end of the call. We probably looked and sounded ridiculous but we had a good laugh, something I think was good for both of us.

I spent the last few hours of the day working on the lyrics of a new song. I don’t often write love songs so that was a new experience for me, something that was really fun. It was actually really cathartic in a strange way, to write a song about a realistic, meaningful relationship, one that has ups and downs but that ultimately works because of the mutual commitment. It felt really good and I was really enjoying the process of writing it.

I went to bed at a reasonable time but then I accidentally stayed up reading until almost two am. That’s happening far too often at the moment. It’s not kind on my sleep schedule.


TUESDAY

After the late night, I struggled up around eleven. I had a shower, an excellent breakfast of poffertjes and strawberries, and finished Avengers: Age of Ultron, which I’d started the night before. Oh, and I did my physio exercises.

I spent several hours doing background research – the foundational research, I guess. I know all of this stuff inside out but I need to be able to present it as part of my project; chances are the people assessing me won’t know even the basics about Autism, let alone that it presents differently in women and girls. So that wasn’t the most interesting research for this project but it was important to do so I did it.

That done, I worked on the song I’d been writing the day before. The rest of it came together pretty easily and I’m really happy with it. As I said, I don’t often write love songs so it was pretty exciting to feel like I’d done a good job when it’s not something I have much experience with. I particularly like how visual it is: the lyrics conjure different pictures and situations as well as the emotional weight of the relationship being described. Yeah… I’m really proud of it.

Early afternoon, I had an online meeting with my supervisor and module leader about my project – we get a set amount of time with our supervisors (specifically chosen based on the projects we proposed) over the course of the module and they provide advice, insight, etc. We had a good discussion and I got a lot of my questions answered – they’d been accumulating as I got further and further into my research and writing. So it was really helpful but by the time we wrapped up, I was tired and more than a bit overwhelmed.

I had a little break to check in with my social media. I’ve actually been using it a lot less recently; the potential for something to trigger my anxiety is just so high that I’ve been staying away from it for the most part. I don’t want anything to disrupt this project so I guess I’m just being extra careful right now.

I did some more research and then spent several hours trying to tidy up my laptop, deleting files and closing tabs and windows that I didn’t need anymore. I’m kind of terrible about leaving things open, just in case I need them again, but my computer was starting to sound very stressed out so I figured that I really needed to do something about it before my computer exploded… That took a somewhat ridiculous amount of time but the fan was significantly quieter when I was done.

I spent the evening watching What Happened To Monday (I love Noomi Rapace in this film – she plays each of the different septuplets so incredibly), updated my project journal, and had dinner. I actually managed to get to bed at a reasonable time but then I accidentally stressed myself when I let my brain wander down the wrong avenue. I needed my Mum to talk me down off the ledge but even then it was hard to get to sleep because it was so hot.


WEDNESDAY

I was so deeply asleep that Mum had to wake me up; my alarm was going off but I was sleeping right through it. Waking up felt a bit like swimming up through treacle. Not the most enjoyable way to start the day.

After a shower and some breakfast, I worked on the chords for one of the songs I’ve been thinking about but not for long as I really needed to focus on preparing for my cowrite the next day which involved working on a different idea. So I got the idea down and went back to my laptop.

With the film, Close, on in the background (another great Noomi Rapace film), I ran through my physio exercises and then got to work on the prep for my cowrite. I had this idea to write a song about The Loneliest Whale so I started researching said whale and the factual information around it’s discovery, it’s signature call, and how it came to be called ‘The Loneliest Whale.’

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No artist was listed with this illustration but it came from this article (x)

I was interrupted by my new ergonomic equipment being delivered, set up, and explained – thank you DSA and Posture People! I want to write about that whole process in a bit more detail but that really belongs in its own post. The two guys from Posture People were lovely and really well informed about the equipment they were setting up: they ran through everything in detail (but not so much detail that it was overwhelming) and they gave me time to test everything out to make sure I really understood how to make it work. The most exciting part was the beautiful ergonomic chair that they gave me. I’ve never had a comfortable desk chair – I’ve never been able to find one – and although it’s gonna take a while to adjust to sitting in a new position, I’m really excited to be able to sit at my desk and not feel really uncomfortable.

When they left, I went back to my research and collected quotes and phrases for inspiration. Then I went through those and wrote down the lyrical ideas that came to me as I read. Some of the ideas fitted together really clearly but I tried not to get ahead of myself since the song was supposed to be a cowrite.

In order to get into uni, we have to have tested negative for Covid less than twenty-four hours prior so I did a test and – hurray, hurray – it came back negative. Not that I thought I had it. But the negative result did mean that my plans could go ahead, I could see some of my friends, and I could do my cowrite so I was very pleased.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working on a blog post about special interests in Autism (and how it presents differently in girls and women). I figured that, since I had the research for my project, using it to write a blog post would be a win-win. I was momentarily – or not so momentarily as it turned out – pulled away from that when one of the cats got herself stuck in the attic and I had to tempt her down with Dreamies. Fortunately all of the cats become fairly dumb when the Dreamies come out. I was surrounded in seconds. Lucy didn’t immediately come flying out of the attic hatch but after I laid a trail of treats for her to follow, she did climb down and I was able to go back to writing.

One of my parents came over and we had a good catch up, which was really nice. I also showed her the ‘pivot’ blooper from the Friends reunion (which I absolutely loved) and we had a good laugh. She, having not seen it yet, laughed nearly until she cried. The three of them unable to stop laughing is just so funny.

We had dinner with Lucifer and I tried to catch up with my diary. I’m just permanently behind what with the Masters and it’s exhausting. It would be the ultimate relief to be caught up but I have no idea when that might be a possibility.

I went to bed early but then I had some lyric ideas for two of the songs I’ve been working on and that sort of snowballed until they were both nearly done. It was almost midnight so I stayed up a bit longer so I could send my friend a birthday message at the exact moment it became her birthday. That done, I curled up and went to sleep, with Friends on low for background noise.


THURSDAY

I was up early, despite having woken up at four and struggled to get back to sleep. But I had things to do and places to be. I had a shower, got dressed, put on make up and jewellery; I had some breakfast and packed my bag before heading to the station to catch a train to London. It was around ten so it wasn’t super busy (although I did have to sit on the floor on the second train because I just couldn’t figure out where to sit that didn’t break social distancing rules – as much as possible on a train anyway). It was my first train journey in over a year and it was very surreal; it felt like a lifetime since I’d last been on a train and like the most normal thing in the world at the same time. I knew I didn’t have the energy to spare pondering that contradiction so I tried to just put it to one side and focus on the work I wanted to do. I was semi-successful, mostly because, with my mask, my glasses kept steaming up (yeah, I know, I still haven’t figured that one out) so I eventually abandoned them, ending up hunched over my computer in order to see the screen.

My second train (at least, the second train I’d planned to take) was cancelled. I can’t help feeling that there’s something kind of incomprehensible and yet somewhat comforting (although maybe not at that particular moment) that there was a global pandemic and the world basically turned upside down but Southern Rail is still as unreliable as always. Anyway. It was a complete faff to reroute and it made me horribly late but eventually – two trains later – I made it to uni. It wasn’t an enjoyable first train journey: talking on the phone to various friends and family did help my anxiety a bit but my knee was already killing me and it was going to be a long day. It’s been hurting for weeks now and I have an appointment with the onsite physio at my doctors’ surgery but it’s not for another two weeks so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to manage until then.

Fortunately my cowriter was very understanding and we had a really good – and fun – session; we laughed a lot, which was really nice. We didn’t have as much time as I would’ve liked but we built a strong foundation for the song with two verses and a chorus that I felt really good about. It obviously needs more work but it was a really solid start and I felt really positive about where it was going.

We had a class at two so we had to stop there. Even though we were at uni, it was an online class so we had to log in to attend – that was kind of funny, attending a uni class that wasn’t at uni while I was at uni. I don’t know if that makes any sense but I couldn’t help a wry smile. Anyway. Everyone in the group shared their project, where they were at with it, if they were having any problems, and so on; they all sound so fascinating. We’re going to have to have a week long listening session at the end of the module so that we can all hear each other’s work. It was a long class so it did get a little difficult to stay completely engaged throughout but, as I said, all of the projects are really interesting.

After the class, I desperately needed a break, having been concentrating (or, at the very least, trying to) for over four hours solid. I got to have a good hang out and catch up with my friend Luce, which was just what I needed, and we also got to see our friend Eddi who I certainly haven’t seen since before the pandemic, which was just so lovely and an unexpected gift. If there’s a bright side to being separated for so long, it’s the complete joy of being reunited – it’s a real celebration every time.

There was also an online song sharing that afternoon so Luce and I found an empty room and logged in. There were about ten of us, I think, including two of our part-time classmates who were also at uni, in another room in the building somewhere. Anyway. The session was really fun and inspiring. Since we have our supervisors (or each other one on one) for critique, the session is more about hyping each other up and offering creative ideas and just sharing our writing/project journey in a really positive, uncritical environment. So many of the songs were just SO GOOD. I mean, I thought every song was good because everyone has improved so much over the module and really got a sense of their songwriting identity, their strong points, their stylistic preferences, and so on, but some of the songs were just mind-blowing. The songs that Luce, my friend Joy, and my newer friend Shristi played particularly stick out in my mind as some of the best songs I’ve heard on the course (and definitely better than many of the songs I hear outside the course).

I played one of my newest songs, which was actually kind of terrifying because it’s not the kind of song I usually write and I really wasn’t sure how it was going to go over (I don’t mean to be intentionally cryptic – but I’m planning to release it, the song and this project, so I don’t want to spoil anything or, even worse, promise something and then not deliver). But everyone really, really liked it and were so enthusiastic and supportive, even picking out their favourite lines despite having heard it only once. It was a bit overwhelming but in a really lovely way. I really love this song and I’m so glad that people liked it and were responding to the emotion in it.

When the session ended, we packed up, said hi to our friends who’d been in the building, and headed off in our different directions. It was officially home-time; it was after seven and I still had a couple of hours of travel ahead of me. And, of course, my overground train was cancelled but with the low sun and fresh air, I was happy to sit and relax, especially after being inside all day; sometimes uni can feel a bit like a casino – the lack of clocks and windows at uni can make it really hard to tell how much time has passed, what time it is, etc. Days could’ve passed and you wouldn’t know.

Eventually, I managed to get moving and between talking to my parents (they all wanted to know how the day had gone and when there’s four of them, that can take a while!) and some project work, I managed to stay awake all of the way home. But after the long day and all the changing trains, my knee was excruciating; I could barely walk by the time I made it home.

Crashed out on the sofa, I inhaled a dinner of fish and chips (THE BEST fish and chips in the world, I might add) and half watched The Proposal – I love the movie but I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open.

I managed a barely coherent Instagram post before going to bed at eleven, exhausted and sore. I was asleep in minutes and slept like the dead.


FRIDAY

I woke up with my alarm at eight thirty but I was so exhausted from the day before that I accidentally fell asleep again and slept until ten. I had a slight headache so I took some pills straight away before it could get worse. I had too many things to do to have my day derailed by a major headache or, worse, a migraine.

It took me a while to get up but I did eventually manage to drag myself out of bed and after a shower and breakfast, I got to work. I spent the next several hours working on stuff for my project; mostly, I caught up with the journal-like document that we keep both as a record of what we’ve done and as a place to reflect on what we’ve learned in our research, on the songs we’re writing, and the whole process that is the project. That’s the broad strokes: you can use it for whatever is helpful to your project but I guess that’s the basic scaffolding of it. I had rather a lot to catch up on, having had a busy but productive few days of project work.

When I eventually finished that, I took a break and had a quick scroll through my social media. The first thing I saw was that an interview I’d done a few months back had been published and shared…

I still find it a very surreal experience to be interviewed, and I’m not sure I’ve had an illustration of myself before! Surreal but very cool. So that’s out there and you can check it out via the link if you would to!

My social media also alerted to me the fact that the day before was the anniversary – the 5th anniversary – of Christina Grimmie’s death. I can’t believe it’s been five years. I really can’t. I’m still dealing with a level of cognitive dissonance, I guess. It just feels so wrong, like something that should not have been possible according to the laws of physics, even after all this time. I’ve written about her death before and I doubt there’s anything new to say – the facts haven’t changed – but I still struggle with it. I know I’d had a busy, stressful, painful day but I felt guilty for forgetting, for only remembering the next day when I was prompted by social media.

It was almost like Sooty knew I was getting upset because she suddenly appeared, hopped into my lap, and demanded that I put down my phone and pay her some attention. Loudly. So I put down my phone and we had a good cuddle. She wriggles and rolls and purrs like a train and it’s very soothing. And she definitely seems like she has a good time.

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When Sooty resettled herself on my legs, I did some diary catch up and then some blog writing before trying to work on the song about The Loneliest Whale. I really tried but I was so tired and my head was starting to hurt so after a while, I just put on a movie and dozed on the sofa until one of my parents arrived for our weekly dinner and hang out.

We had a good catch up (even though we catch up practically every night) before having dinner with Lucifer. It was really nice and chilled out and probably just what I needed. But eventually she had to go. We said our goodbyes, had lots of hugs, and then, once she’d gone, I had another go at my whale song. I’m always more productive and creative at night (unfortunately for my neighbours) and I had actually managed to make some progress, which was very satisfying after the trouble I’d had earlier in the day.


SATURDAY

I slept restlessly so getting up was a struggle. Oh, how I miss the days of a good sleep schedule…

I had a shower and some breakfast and then got to work at my computer. I did another clean up of my laptop, closing all the windows with research I didn’t need anymore before working one of the songs I’m currently working on. With this project, working on multiple songs at once, it’s a bit like spinning plates. It’s a challenge. But it’s a fun and satisfying challenge most of the time.

In the middle of the day, I had to go to the hospital for a dental assessment, the next step in the process of my upcoming tooth extraction. I really don’t know what the point of the appointment was: there was no new information in either direction, we had the exact same conversation as we had in the first appointment at my dentist, and all he did was refer me for the extraction (which seemed an unnecessary step since, as far as I could tell, I’d already been referred). The whole thing felt pointless and a waste of everybody’s time: for me it was annoying and I’m sure there had to be better things he could’ve been doing. And I still have no idea when the extraction might happen and if it will affect my Masters.

So that whole experience was frustrating and exhausting and then, when we got home, the pain in my knee was so bad that I physically couldn’t walk from the car to the house. I ended up sobbing in the street. My Mum had to all but carry me the rest of the way. It was horrible. But I had a rest and eventually managed to recover myself, enough at least to have another go at the song I’d been working on earlier in the day. And another one. What can I say? Spinning plates.

Early evening I realised I hadn’t posted the blog post I’d written so I put that up (it’s the one about living with unmedicated ADHD). Then my Mum and I had a light dinner, had a break to digest, and headed to the pool. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before but, on Saturdays and Sundays, one of the local-ish pools have evening sessions that are very Autism-friendly. That’s not specifically their purpose but they’re very calm and soothing: quiet, low lighting, and only a few people. Plus they have super strict COVID regulations so I’ve always felt safe going there. It’s so nice. Those nights are usually high points in my week.

We swam and I worked hard, which felt really good. And the fact that my knee doesn’t hurt in the water, giving me a break from the pain, is definitely good for my mental and emotional state. Although, in a typically me move, I did have to get out in the middle to record a song idea in the changing room. I’m betting that if you’re a songwriter reading this, you’ve done something similar more than once too.

Back home, exhausted but buzzing with endorphins, I finished the lyrics to one song and worked on another. That was very satisfying. Then I went to bed, read for a bit, and went to sleep around half midnight.


SUNDAY

I had an early start, caught up with my diary a bit, and then headed to the vaccination centre for my second vaccine. They were great – quick, efficient, and warm – and then I was out of there, fully vaccinated. That felt really, really good. The only negative to the experience was that my knee was so painful that I could barely walk on it; we managed to get a parking space close to the doors but just fifteen minutes on my feet was excruciating.

When I got home, I tried to work on the song I didn’t finish the night before. I found it difficult to concentrate but I kept trying all afternoon, all evening until dinner. While we were eating, we talked about the week ahead and what needed to be done for each day. I’m juggling a lot at the moment and while – most of the time – I feel like I can handle it, suddenly it all got on top of me and I got really stressed out and upset.

It took me quite a long time to recover and I didn’t really want to go out and interact with people, even if it was only a few of them at the pool. But I only get two opportunities a week to swim there – in that relatively stress-free environment – and I was loathe to give one of them up. So I dragged myself out of the house and over to the pool.

Again, I worked hard, which felt good. I can already feel the difference in my strength and stamina from when I started swimming consistently again after the last lockdown ended. My arm had started to ache post-vaccine but it wasn’t too bad; it didn’t affect my swimming (or anything else and it only lasted a few days unlike the two weeks of pain I had last time).

I crashed on the sofa when we got home, watched TV for a bit, and then I spent a little time working on song lyrics before going to bed.


Every week at the moment is different but the intensity is pretty consistent. My brain is constantly on a hamster wheel and while I love all of the stuff I’m working on, it’s pretty stressful and exhausting. And on that note, I just wanted to flag that I might not be as consistent about posting over the next two months or so. I’m not going anywhere – I have absolutely no intention of abandoning this blog – but I need to focus on this final project for the Masters and the two other research projects I’m working on. They have to be the priority for a little bit but then I will be back. I promise. I love this blog and I get so much out of writing it. And that’s not to say that I won’t post at all in that time; I just don’t think every week is going to be possible for a little bit. So, I hope you enjoyed this blog and I will see you in the not too distant future!

A Week In My Life (November Reading Week)

While I was going to write a series of posts about the events of this week, the way all of those events played out made that much more difficult than I’d anticipated so, after a lot of thought, I decided to put them all together in one post because I still really wanted to write about all of them. It was an intense week, with some really big events and a lot of anxiety.

The week in this post started on Monday 2nd November and ended on Sunday 8th November 2020, the autumn semester’s reading week. It involved an Autism webinar, the US election, Bonfire night, as well as the beginning of England’s second national lockdown.


MONDAY

My Mum was visiting her Mum, masked, social distanced, and outside where possible before we all go into lockdown again. So I was all on my lonesome, which is pretty unusual these days. Apart from the cats. Once Queen Lucy realised I was awake, she was climbing all over me, very clearly telling me that it was time for breakfast. So I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs to feed the pride.

I spent the morning doing various admin tasks like replying to emails and finishing a couple of blog posts before having a shower, getting back to my computer in time to get a ticket to Tim Minchin’s upcoming livestream for his new album, Apart Together. It’s scheduled for the end of November so that will be something really fun to look forward to during lockdown. In the description of the event, they describe him as an ‘inimitable poly-talent,’ which is absolutely true and I just can’t help thinking what it would be like to be described that way. What an awesome compliment.

That done, I settled into my little home studio space and got to work. There were a handful of songs that I had been neglecting and so I finally forced myself to stop procrastinating and prioritising other things and spent several hours recording vocals for them. It’s stupid: I don’t know why I put off recording vocals so much. I guess they make me feel anxious and insecure, like I’ll listen to myself and suddenly realise what a terrible singer I am (which, yes, I recognise is ridiculous because while I know I’m not the greatest singer out there, I know I’m not terrible). But anyway, I always put it off and then when I finally do it, I remember how much I enjoy it. As I said… ridiculous, and yet we’ve all had that experience in one way or another.

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It was a challenge because it was really windy outside, so windy that the microphone was picking it up and I had to delete multiple takes because the wind noise was so obtrusive. And then, Lucy decided that she was being left out of something important. I managed to convince her to lie on my bed (instead of climbing all over me) but even her stretching and clawing the duvet was making it into the recordings. I ended up barricading myself in my bedroom for the rest of the tracks. Fortunately, she (and the others) didn’t start yowling until just as I was finishing up so I was able get everything done without the feline interruptions. I think they’ve developed a form of separation anxiety after having me at their complete disposal (by which I mean I’m available to be sat on at almost all times) since late February and the closed door was just unacceptable.

I had a short time to rest and order my thoughts (change hats, if you will) before signing into an online meeting about an upcoming conference that I’m a panelist for. Just typing that out is wild to me; this is something I’ve always wanted to do. I mean, ideally it would’ve been on a literal panel, talking directly to people, rather than through a screen, but I’m not complaining. I’m nervous but excited. The other panelists were all really nice and we had a good discussion and planning session.

I was pretty knackered after all of that so I lay down on the sofa and attempted to do some blog post writing. I didn’t get very far – I think I was just too tired – but I made progress on a couple of posts so that was something.

I had a place on a webinar in the evening about Autism in young people but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get into it and the anxiety and frustration and confusion – likely combined with my anxiety about the pandemic, the US election, and the impending lockdown – resulted in a lot of distress. I wouldn’t call it a panic attack or a meltdown but it was a serious overload of difficult and upsetting feelings. I talked to Mum about it afterwards and she suggested emailing them to see if they had a recording I could watch since I’d paid for a ticket and then not been able to attend. So that was a job for the next morning; I was too upset and all over the place to try and write a coherent email.

Despite not attending the webinar, I ended up staying up far too late, bouncing between writing for my blog and in my diary. Lucy curled up with me and, completely exhausted, I was asleep in a matter of minutes.


TUESDAY

I woke up with a headache that even my prescription painkillers couldn’t kick. I’d had a busy day planned out, with the US election the next day (I knew it would dramatically affect my emotions and therefore my ability to work so I’d planned to get as much done beforehand as possible). I tried to get up and get things done but I just felt so unwell that I ended up shifting my week around to give myself a lighter day. I just couldn’t do the more demanding tasks I’d planned to do.

I didn’t manage to get much done that morning. My head was pounding and I was tired and I just couldn’t concentrate enough to get as much done as I would’ve liked to. I did start the essay for this module for the Masters, working out the different sections and the elements I could talk the most about. I also managed a little bit of blog writing; I swear, just as I think I have a decent buffer of posts, they’re gone and I’m panic writing to make sure that I have something to post (not that I’m panic writing this post – I just thought I had more posts lined up than I do).

Early afternoon, I joined the the video call set up by a group from my Masters classes last year (they were the full timers who’d done the whole course in one year while, as a part timer, I’m taking two years to do all of the modules) to watch their online graduation ceremony. As far as I know, everyone was watching the ceremony but not everyone was in the video call, including one of my best friends but we were chatting via WhatsApp. When the ceremony ended, the university had organised video calls for each course and so the majority of the full timers logged on, plus a few of the part timers as well as our course leader to celebrate together. Some of the other tutors on our course also dropped in briefly to say hi. It was so nice to see them all. It feels like so long since I’ve seen most of them and I do miss them; I feel like we had a really lovely dynamic. We chatted and caught up and had a drink together and the whole thing ended up going on for about three hours. I was pretty social-ed out afterwards but it had been so nice to see everyone and celebrate their achievements.

Not long after we all hung up, my Mum took Lucy to the vet as I think the cysts she developed a few months ago have returned. They were back within the hour and the vet had confirmed my theory. The recurrence has also confirmed where they’re coming from and so she’s booked in for surgery on the 12th to remove the cysts and hopefully fix the problem. Apparently it’s not much more complicated than the previous surgery and she’s a very healthy cat so there’s no reason to worry unduly. He’s a great vet: we haven’t known him long at all and yet he already takes my high levels of anxiety into account when giving explanations and laying out the options. I really, really appreciate that.

Lucy has never seemed distressed by going to the vet but she’s always very pleased to be home. She often comes and cuddles up with me if possible though. I don’t know if she feels in need of affection, if she was trying to get rid of the unfamiliar smell of the vet, or whatever but it was very cute.

We weren’t confident about the support bubble rules going into the second lockdown so one of my other parents (who we’re in a support bubble with) came over for the evening and we hung out, had dinner, and watched some TV together. It was really nice and I think we all needed it.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, I’d been working on a personal essay to go out as part of the campaign for my recent single, ‘Honest,’ and I finished it at around eleven. I could barely keep my eyes open by that point but I thought it was at the very least decent, as did my Mum when she proofed it for me – I’ve had much more positive feedback since, which has been good for my confidence as I was feeling quite insecure about it. But anyway, given how tired I was, I decided to leave it as it was and have another look at it in the morning before sending it off.

I’d been doing my best not to think about the US election all day, avoiding social media as much as possible, but when I went to bed, all the anxiety rushed in. I was so terrified of Trump getting in again; I was almost overwhelmed by the dread of waking up to that as the result. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t relax enough to sleep and ended up taking both my anti-anxiety medication and a sleeping pill.


WEDNESDAY

While I think we all felt that it was unlikely we’d wake up to an official result, it was nonetheless tough to wake up and see that it still wasn’t over. But worse, was that it could still go either way when I checked the news first thing. I saw this meme making the rounds on social media and it felt very relevant; I’m pretty sure that this was how my face looked.

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It ended up being a long, anxious day of refreshing the various news sites, waiting for updates and not getting much done. I did manage to edit the personal essay and send it off but other than that, I just bounced between writing blog posts and working on my Masters essay without making much progress in either. I was just so anxious; I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I may not be American nor do I live in the US but I have friends and family who do and the political decisions made there have the potential to ripple so far out, affecting so many countries and so many people. So to say I was stressing would be a massive understatement.

Slowly though, the numbers did start to shift in favour of Biden more and more. It wasn’t a done deal by any means but it was going in the right direction. I was refreshing my phone relentlessly; I could barely concentrate for five minutes without having to check to see if there was an update.

In the evening, Mum and I had dinner and then went for one last swim before lockdown closed all the gyms. We tried to make it as safe as possible, going close to their closing time when it’s always quiet. Plus they keep all the doors open to help with the ventilation. I still almost fell apart in the changing room because the experience was so stressful – whether it would’ve been a meltdown or an anxiety attack, I don’t know. But the staff helped us out and the few people swimming were very obliging about making it possible to put as much distance between all of us as possible.

We had a really good swim, including some of the new hydrotherapy exercises, and by the time we got home, Biden only needed six electoral votes to win and Trump needed fifty six. I was so excited; I actually felt like I might throw up from the anticipation. Again, I found it very difficult to sleep.


THURSDAY

And so begins Lockdown 2.0…

I slept long and deep and when I did finally wake up, I didn’t get up for quite a while, going through the election coverage. The numbers hadn’t moved and it was making me edgy.

I got up, had breakfast and a shower, and got down to working on my essay. I’d only been working on it for about half an hour though when a friend called and we ended up talking for over an hour. It might not have been the way I’d planned my morning but it was really good to have that chat; I felt better for it.

When we hung up, I managed to do a bit more work on my essay before getting myself made up to do some filming. It’s getting dark so early now that I couldn’t wait any longer or I’d lose the light. I set up my little corner (I’d love to have a more permanent space at some point) and filmed some bits and pieces for the ‘Honest’ single campaign. It was a bit of a struggle – cold and uncomfortable and the cats wouldn’t leave me alone – but eventually I got them all done, which was an important job to have ticked off my list.

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That done, I went back to my uni work. I spent most of the afternoon working on one of my song assignments: a reimagination of one of my own songs. It’s weirdly hard: you spend so much time trying to make a song perfect and then you have to turn around and create something entirely new from it, bring out a different emotion or try it out in a different genre. I took this really big, fiesty pop song that had this whole ‘I don’t need you’ vibe and turned it into this quiet piano song that was based on the moment of that realisation when it’s still fragile and tentative. I worked on changing the chords and then recorded them but they were still just one chord per bar; I planned to take it to a friend who is a much better piano player than me to help me expand on it, breaking up the chords and changing it a little for each section to keep it engaging since it was just going to be piano and vocal.

I was just finishing and stretching out on the sofa to relax when the fireworks started going off. I hate Bonfire Night. If you’ve read this post, you’ll know why but the short version is that, not only do fireworks massively trigger the noise sensitivity associated with my ASD, I had a firework thrown at me when I was at the cinema as a teenager. So fireworks make me very anxious and the more there are, the more anxious I get.

I was doing okay: I’d done some blog writing, Mum and I had had dinner in front of Legally Blonde (a friend of mine has been trying to get me to watch it for ages, ever since I’d said that I’d never seen it), but then excruciatingly loud fireworks (that we later found out were being let off a few gardens down from ours) started going off. It could’ve been machine gun fire. The sound triggered one of the worst meltdowns I’ve ever had: I was shaking, hyperventilating, sobbing, screaming (apparently I was screaming ‘stop’ over and over but I never really remember meltdowns afterwards), pulling out my hair to the extent that I was drawing blood… I have no idea how long it went on for but it felt like it could’ve been an hour. Eventually it stopped but meltdowns – my meltdowns at least (I don’t want to speak for anyone else’s experience) – often take a while to settle. I’d barely started to relax when a few minutes later, it all stared again and re-triggered the meltdown. Even after they did finally stop, it was still a long time before I was responsive again, able to interact with my surroundings, able to talk again. It was horrific. It was absolutely horrific.

I have no idea how much time that ate up, just that I was absolutely drained afterwards and barely able to sit up on the sofa. We finished the movie (I liked it for the most part but there’s a really problematic scene where one of the lawyers tricks a gay man into outing himself in public, which is just not okay – I get that it was almost twenty years ago but that doesn’t make it comfortable to watch) and headed for bed. The one thing I will say about it being Bonfire Night was that one of my cats, Sooty (pictured below), stayed with me all evening, snuggled up nice and close. I don’t know if she understood my distress or whether she, herself, needed some comfort but it was very nice to have her with me all evening. Nothing really helps with the meltdowns but it did help before when it was the odd bang and after when I was a collapsed on the sofa. She was an excellent little companion.

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Despite being so exhausted by the meltdown, I couldn’t sleep, no matter what I did. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was fight or flight… I don’t know. But I couldn’t fully relax for hours, even with the help of a sleeping pill. I think I eventually went to sleep at some point between two thirty and three.


FRIDAY

I struggled up the next morning and after a while, decided to post about the experience. I’d seen #banthefireworks and similar hashtags trending on Twitter the night before, mainly to do with how traumatising they are for pets and for wildlife. It was, however, the first time I’d seen people with sensory issues and Autism mentioned as well though, which felt like quite a big deal. I’d been too out of it the night before to write anything at all but with my head a little clearer, I thought that maybe it could be a good idea and maybe raise some awareness about what the experience of Bonfire Night (and fireworks in general) is like as an autistic person. So I posted this on Twitter and on my Instagram stories:

I actually got a really lovely response with a handful of likes and kind, supportive comments.

I got up and got myself ready for the day and settled down to do some blog post writing. I was feeling very fragile after the meltdown(s) the night before so I put on one of the movies that I discovered during the first lockdown and ended up watching a lot because it just feels good. It’s called ‘Isn’t It Romantic’ with Rebel Wilson. I’m generally not a rom-com fan and I hadn’t seen Rebel Wilson in a role that didn’t make me cringe so I was initially wary when my friend recommended it but I ended up loving it. It’s just the ultimate feel good movie. So I had that on in the background as I tried to write (my thoughts always feel kind of fuzzy and not quite connected after a meltdown, sometimes for a few hours and sometimes for days – it can get really upsetting if I spend too much time thinking about it; feeling like your brain doesn’t work just feels so horrible and scary).

Mid afternoon, I had a session with my therapist. I haven’t ‘seen’ her for a while so we had quite a bit of catching up to do. We talked in depth about the night before, as I usually need to after an experience like that. I feel pretty lucky that I had a therapy session within less than twenty four hours, even if it was still very raw. But better that than in a week or two. The other main thing we talked about was how I’m struggling more than usual with my OCD: with the new semester of uni and the promotion of ‘Honest,’ it’s been really hard to find the time and emotional energy to keep up with my diary (for those unfamiliar, my OCD manifests as a compulsive need to write everything down. The overwhelming anxiety and pressure to keep up and do well in my Masters and what is effectively my job seems to be the only thing that can overpower my compulsive writing but then the anxiety around that only builds and builds until I feel like I can’t breathe, like my mind is coming apart and I’m no longer able to form coherent thought processes. We spent a while talking about that and about starting to tackle it as an issue, something we haven’t done because the pandemic has had such an impact on my mental health. It was an exhausting session but it was good to see her and hopefully, in therapy at least, I’m moving out of the frozen state I’ve been in since the pandemic hit the UK. I’m reluctant to commit to that as a statement but I’m cautiously optimistic.

I was pretty much done after that; I didn’t have any energy left. I posted a video to remind people about the new single but that was pretty much all I could manage for the rest of the day.

Since I was too tired to do anything, I ended up watching a new film, Inheritance. The trailer had looked good and while it wasn’t the best film ever, I thought the acting – especially the scenes that involved just Lily Collins and Simon Pegg in a room – was really good and I enjoyed the twists and turns. It was very dark though so I can definitely see it appealing to some and really not to others.

While the fireworks weren’t anywhere near as bad as the night before, people were still setting them off throughout the evening, which really heightened my anxiety. I could barely eat; it felt like my throat was closing up and swallowing was actively uncomfortable.

I spent the evening bouncing between trying to write blog posts and trying to write my diary, not achieving much with either. Again, I think I was just too tired. But it was still a bit too early to go to bed and I wanted to try and do something, even if it wasn’t much.

I FaceTimed with one of my parents before going to bed, which was really nice and then, during the call, I got an email saying that I’d got a ticket to Halsey’s upcoming livestream for the launch of her new poetry book, I Would Leave Me If I Could, which was really, really excited. And when I went to bed around eleven, Biden was very close to winning. So that was a good mental state to be going to bed with.


SATURDAY

I struggled up at nine thirty and got straight to work, recording vocals for the reimagination of my song before my session with Richard. That went pretty quickly and smoothly because I was fairly solid in the new melody. I think it’s pretty good, although I was a bit concerned that the rhythm of the melody wasn’t that different from the original. I didn’t have the time to rework it so I thought I’d take that to class and ask for advice, both in terms of whether they thought it was a problem and how I should go about changing it if it was.

That done, I had a shower and breakfast, published my blog post about going back to the gym (pre this new lockdown), and then logged into Zoom for my session with Richard. We spent the next three hours working on the reimagination of my song and of the cover song. I found it quite frustrating since it was mainly arrangement and production based, so all I could do was offer direction and suggestions but Richard had to do all of the physical work, considering the Logic project was on his screen. This is one of the things I find hardest about collaboration via programs like Zoom: you can’t just take over from one another, swap chairs or instruments, or even point to things on the screen. Sometimes I end up finding it hard to engage and sometimes I just end up wanting to scream because I feel so limited. Most of the time it’s fine and I’ll gratefully accept the fact that we can work long distance at all but every now and then, the frustration just gets too much.

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After hanging up, I put Friends on for background noise and spent a few hours working on upcoming blog posts.

I wasn’t refreshing the news as obsessively anymore so I didn’t discover it for myself. I got a text from Richard at 4:28pm with a screenshot of the BBC News announcement. I actually shrieked and shouted to Mum to tell her. I was positively giddy with relief: I laughed hysterically and then I just started crying because I was just so overwhelmed with so many emotions. It was like I could breathe again. And considering that’s how I felt when it isn’t my country or government, I can only imagine how everyone in America – those who had worked so hard to get Trump out and Biden in – were feeling.

The majority of people that I was seeing on social media were hysterical with joy and it being such a historic moment, I felt that I really wanted to add my own to mark the occasion…

We were just finishing dinner when the fireworks started going off. They weren’t bad enough to trigger a meltdown but they did make me anxious, cause me to flinch and lose my train of thought. I was going to be very pleased when those few nights of fireworks were over.

We had a quiet evening of TV (me and Mum are currently rewatching Hustle – it’s easy to watch but still such a good show) and I tried to do some gentle work on my Masters essay but I ended up in a state about all the musical theory language that I was supposed to be using but didn’t understand, being a self taught musician rather than having had lots of lessons or doing grades. So that was very stressful and I got very upset so I emailed my tutors to ask for some guidance.

I was still buzzing about the election news but it had been somewhat dampened (temporarily) by my uni anxiety so I went to bed just feeling like a complete mess. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and anxious and it was all just too much. By that point, I needed the emotional fresh start a new day would give me.


SUNDAY

It wasn’t easy but I managed to wake up around eight thirty. I got distracted from getting up when I checked my social media though, looking through all of the posts about Biden getting in. There were a few negative posts but on the whole, my feed was mostly filled with positive ones, which was a nice way to start the day. Obviously our social media isn’t an objective view of any subject so I wasn’t going to base my knowledge of the election outcome on the reactions I was seeing but seeing so much positivity and joy on my timeline was a real lift in a very difficult week.

Eventually I tore myself away, had a shower and breakfast, and got down to work. I spent the morning working on blog posts and doing some Christmas present planning and shopping. And then I dedicated the afternoon to preparing for the conference. It’s a conference about University and the Covid-19 pandemic and I’m on a panel discussing autistic students and coping with change. So I wrote down all my thoughts, organised and input them into the powerpoint we would be displaying. It took a couple of hours but I was pleased with the work I’d done. Now I just have to pull together my notes for when it’s my turn to speak but I didn’t want to do that until we’d all met again and signed off on the powerpoint as a group.

I had some chill time before one of my other parents arrived for our weekly evening together (she’s in our bubble and it seems that bubbles – those that bring a household and a single person together anyway – are still permitted during this lockdown). We’d decided, given that we were already in a bubble and none of us do anything out but the essentials, that we felt safe to continuing seeing each other.

We had a really good evening. She’s a music teacher (or at least that’s one of her hats) and has been for decades so she was able to help me out with my essay: we went through the harmonic, melodic, and rhythmic elements of every section of the song and it was kind of hilarious how consistent I’d been without being aware of it: almost every element built on the idea of tension and release, except the release never comes. Non-diatonic chords, uncommon intervals, irregular time signatures, syncopation for days… The song had been an experiment in the weird and it was certainly that.

We had dinner with a movie (we missed the new episode of His Dark Materials because I got the time wrong – me and Mum made a note to watch it the next day) and while my parents were content to relax with the rest of the movie, I went back to blog writing. My brain struggles to sit still, to do one thing without getting distracted or bored. So I kept writing, with Sooty curled up between my knees. It seems to be her new favourite place.

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Once it was just me and Mum again, we took our time winding down and then headed for bed. I checked my phone one last time and saw that, as promised if Biden won the election, Kalie Shorr had released a worktape of one of her unreleased songs, ‘Strawberry Blonde.’ It’s such a great song. Her lyric writing especially just blows my mind:

“…Sometimes I still get wasted

To stop thinking ‘bout the time I wasted

I started taking long walks again

And I started talking to God again

You’d hardly recognise me with my rose-coloured glasses gone

You might find it surprising I stopped taking shit from anyone

I got a new tattoo so you don’t know what I look like when my clothes are off

And I went strawberry blonde…”

I learn so much from her songs and I’d love to have the confidence she has in her writing style, in herself as an artist and as a person it seems. She is one of the people I want to write with most; I feel like it would just be so much fun and I’d learn so much. Plus I think we could write one badass song. She’s such an inspiration to me and has been ever since I met her and started following her career in 2016. I don’t know if she knows what an impact – what a positive impact – she’s had on my life.

My brain was going off like fireworks (ironic, I know, but it’s the only metaphor I’ve found that fits) after hearing that song, lyrics bursting into life behind my eyes, which of course I had to write down so as not to forget them. My brain is often at its most active and creative at night. So it took me a long time to get to sleep.


So it was a hell of a week. There was good, bad, really good, and really bad. I can’t say whether it was the week I expected or not because I had no idea what the week was going to look like, mostly due to the US election. Most of all it was exhausting. The new week felt daunting, going in so depleted, but it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

I hope this was interesting; I hope you enjoyed it. And I’ll see you in the next post.

Venturing Back To The Gym – Part 1

I really wasn’t convinced when the government reopened the gyms. It seemed to me that they were (and still are) much more concerned about the economy than people’s actual lives and I couldn’t imagine how many gyms would be able to create a safe environment with good ventilation and social distancing. I was particularly worried about this in a swimming pool.

Because of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) and joint problems (which we now know are linked to being hypermobile), swimming is my only good source of exercise really. All weight-bearing exercise causes me extreme, disproportional fatigue and pain in my joints that can last for days. Half an hour can essentially end my day. So I’ve always relied on swimming for exercise, which I was obviously not able to do during the lockdown. And when the pools opened again, I really wasn’t convinced that it was safe. I was desperate to swim again (I can’t believe how much I’d missed exercising – my teenage self would not believe it, although, to be fair, I had always enjoyed swimming) so I was really keen to find a safe way of doing it, if there actually was one.

We spoke to the gym where I’m a member and tried to come up with a plan. Pre-pandemic, I would swim super early in the morning when the pool was all but empty but they wouldn’t be opening that early post lockdown because of a lack of lifeguards. That meant that, even if we arrived as soon as it opened, there were likely to be many more people than we were used to and that made me very nervous. They offered to rope off half the smaller pool that’s used as a family or therapy pool (for me as a disabled person) and suggested coming as early as possible as that was when it likely to be the least busy. I was very anxious but we decided to give it a try.

There was no one in the small pool when we got there and we got into our roped off section. It felt amazing to swim and stretch my muscles. I was almost giddy with joy. But the other side and the main pool started filling up fast, with no real social distancing. I could feel the panic rising: I could almost feeling the air becoming more and more contaminated (I know it was my anxiety and my overactive imagination but that’s how it felt). As much as I loved swimming again, eventually the stress just got too much and we had to go. I don’t think we’d even been in the pool twenty minutes. It was something though and my Mum and I discussed what we wanted to do, whether we wanted to try different times, and so on.

And then literally the next day, the gym emailed to say that they felt confident with their safety measures and so would be opening the pool up to more people which, as desperate as I was to keep swimming, killed my desire to go completely. It hadn’t felt massively safe during our first trip so I couldn’t even imagine coping with more people around. The whole situation just felt incredibly stressful and scary and my anxiety would rise just thinking about putting myself in that environment.

Mum met with the person in charge of the smaller pool and raised our concerns. They said they would get back to us after a wider staff meeting the next week but they never did. Mum went a couple of times at different times of the day and thought going right before they closed was a possible option but I still wasn’t convinced; my anxiety was just so high. Even thinking about being there made it feel difficult to breathe.

In the meantime, we looked for other options, other pools that weren’t necessarily attached to gyms but where you might be able to book a slot in a lane. We went through several possibles with no success but after a while, Mum found a pool that were booking out lanes in the evenings, an hour at a time. She had them talk her through all their safety measures, which were extensive, before going to try it out. She came back with positive reviews so I thought seriously about whether I felt comfortable trying it out too.

It took a few weeks before I felt okay about going and their serious safety measures were comforting: everyone was wearing masks (right up until they were in the water); they took everyone’s temperature as we went in; we changed in little tent-like pods, each numbered, and then put our bags on chairs of the same number, situated by the changing room door (that way they knew which ‘changing pods’ had been used so that they could disinfect them, ready for the next group of people); and then once in the pool, the lanes were wide enough that you could properly social distance. So the whole set up felt significantly safer. And an extra bonus: they turned off the main lights so the room was lit with just the pool lights, creating a very calming atmosphere. It was gorgeous. And, as an autistic person, it made the whole thing a lot easier as a sensory experience. The glaring lights at swimming pools can be a bit of a challenge sometimes. So this was wonderful.

It was utterly glorious. I had such a good time. Being in the water, feeling weightless, swimming lengths, swimming down to the bottom at the deepest point, exercising my muscles… It was awesome. I loved every second. I was completely exhausted by the time I got out but it was the good kind of exhausted. It felt great. And I’d felt as safe as I think I possibly could have in the present circumstances. It was giddy with joy but also gutted that I had to wait a whole week to experience it again. I would’ve loved to do that more than just once a week.

Unfortunately the second trip wasn’t quite as pleasant. Either the rules had changed or my understanding of them had been incorrect because they were putting people from different ‘social bubbles’ or (whatever they’re called) in the same lane, which, as far as I could tell, didn’t allow for social distancing. I ended up having something that was somewhere between a meltdown, a panic attack, and an ‘episode’ of Misophobia/Germophobia (I don’t know if I’d say I have this phobia, but I’ve definitely had ‘attacks’ of it when the fear of germs or feeling contaminated is so overwhelming that I’m almost unable to function). Anyway, I was frozen there, hanging onto the wall of the deep end, unable to do anything. Like I said earlier in the post when talking about the other pool, I could almost feel the air becoming cloudy with the virus, feeling it coating everything, even the water. It was horrifying, like being trapped in a film where the world ends.

The staff were apparently very concerned and desperate to help but I couldn’t do anything but hang on to the wall; I don’t know if I would’ve had the wherewithal to swim if I’d slipped underwater. But eventually my Mum was able to coax me back to swimming, even though I kicked and cried, utterly terrified in a way that I can’t really explain now. It must’ve taken half an hour at least; I was freezing cold and apparently my lips had gone blue. After a while, I did manage to recover to some extent, at least enough to swim a bit, to warm up and not waste the time we had in the pool. The swimming felt good but the experience as a whole had been horrible and exhausting and I really wasn’t sure whether I felt safe there anymore.

The busyness of that night proved to be an anomaly so, although I was anxious – and to a certain degree, reluctant – I kept going and it was better. I loved it: the weightlessness, the stretching of my muscles, the exercise that came with just a proportional amount of pain afterwards, the aching of long unused muscles, rather than agony that felt like the crunching of glass in every joint. It was wonderful.

Several weeks in, I had my hypermobility appointment, which was really interesting in the context of my gravitation towards swimming because swimming and even hydrotherapy are recommended for hypermobile individuals; it allows you to exercise and strengthen your core in particular (the commonly weak part of hypermobile bodies, although it often ‘refers’ pain to other parts of the body) without putting undue pressure on your joints. This made so much sense to me, particularly as I’d been struggling with ache-y muscles in my chest and stomach after swimming when I’d expected to feel that ache in my arms and legs. That appointment resulted in a referral for hydrotherapy but the doctor also recommended some particular exercises to do in the pool in the meantime.

However, before I could even get back to the pool again, the second national lockdown was announced. So, just as I was making progress (and getting some real joy out of exercise), I was running headfirst into a massive brick wall. I agree that, with Covid-19 cases rises in England, we need another lockdown but I can also be gutted that I can no longer swim, at least not for a while. And the sacrifice would actually feel worthwhile if this was a real lockdown but while schools and universities are open – allowing students to mix with any number of other people – it’s not. It’s not going to make a significant difference and it’s just going to sow the seeds of doubt about whether lockdowns work, which THEY DO IF DONE PROPERLY. Anyway, I’ve gone on a tangent. I don’t know when I’ll be able to swim again but I’m grateful to have somewhere that takes the safety measures so seriously to go when it is possible. I’m looking forward to it. I’m really, really looking forward to it.