The storm

A reaction to the end of vaccine passes and mandates.

I’m processing the announcement around the removal of vaccine passes and vaccine mandates. How are you feeling about it? When I’m trying to take in all my feelings and be gentle with myself, writing helps. So here’s some writing…in response to the changes…

Last night we turned the lights off and the kids pressed their noses against the window in our living room. Each time lightening struck - we all ooohed and aaahed at the ferocious display.

I felt a familiar drop in my stomach as I saw the strange storm cloud heading our way.

The rain fell harder as my little one pressed the poor cat against the window’s glass so he could get a “better view”. Our big lump of a dog stuck close to my husband’s side - needing reassurance we are safe.

I encouraged us to move away from the window, to come in from inside - just in case.

The kids were very hyped up and the bedtime routine was delayed by at least an hour. When I was able to finally get my little one under the covers, with me beside him, he begged for the curtain to remain open. The flashes of lightening continued in a rhythm as he fell into sleep.

I couldn’t sleep. I closed the curtains, checked in on my sleeping husband and eldest son, checked the dog, checked the cat, made a hot chocolate…walked the lounge.

My stomach churned. I’ve come to recognise this feeling over the past two years - the feeling that something is coming. Something terrible.

Our brains are wired to protect us. Not make us happy. That’s what they say anyway.

The strange cloud was just that. A strange cloud. The storm passed.

I’ve been so worried about today’s announcement. I know that’s why I couldn’t sleep last night and why when I woke this morning I felt as if the cloud was back, and had settled above me.

We are facing so many changes as a country and collectively, many of us have observed the downpour from relative safety. We have pressed our noses against the glass. We have watched and waited for the storm to pass. We have felt the warmth of our homes and our wider communities.

We have believed the storm would pass.

Many have suffered as they tried to shelter from this squall. Each port in this storm isn’t equal. Many of us still feel afraid, and the mockery of that fear by those you might have once broke bread with has been painful.

There’s a lot of talk of “getting back” to where we once were. But I don’t think that’s what we should aim for. When you work on recovering and healing from catastrophe you have a chance to rebuild in a way that’s better, in a way that will ensure safety against the next calamity. And you’re not just rebuilding anyway - we’re repairing.

But I’m not sure. I don’t know enough. And I worry that those who know the least can never recognise that they don’t know enough.

The mandates are going. The vaccine passes are going. I don’t know how I feel about this. I am trying to widen my view. To remember where we have been.

We lost 15 people yesterday and I can’t stop thinking about the collective trauma that more deaths must have delivered to countries ravaged by this ugly virus for years. Because 15 deaths feels like so many. And I don’t ever want to be a person who looks at that number and feels nothing. Someone who looks at that number and sneers yeah but did they have any other conditions? Did they die OF Covid or WITH Covid?

How do we repair something that might have always been there?

You can’t mandate compassion and empathy for others. There’s no vaccine against selfishness and cruelty. Bridges are more than burnt…there is a scorched earth that we are trying to lay foundations on. And it’s still smoking.

Where we go from here is up to us.

Will we build better? How will we heal?

I wish I knew. I guess we just have to wait until the storm has passed.

Here’s a photo from last night’s storm. Taken just down from my house by my dear friend Maz. Follow Maz because they’re very talented and very kind.