Happy Covid-versary to Me!
I really didn't want to write this post.
Dear friends,
This month marks my two-year covid-versary. That means it’s been two years since I first caught covid and subsequently developed long covid—aptly named, methinks.
People tend to celebrate significant, life-changing events, don’t they? They throw a party, invite all their friends and family, buy a cake, hire a DJ and demand presents from their guests via a ridiculously expensive gifts registry. I did think of throwing a little something, to be honest—it is the longest (albeit entirely parasitic) relationship I’ve ever had—but: 1. large social gatherings are currently beyond my maximum available quota of energy ‘spoons’, and, since I’m also horribly introverted, it really wouldn’t be worth the three-day fatigue crash, and 2. there’s still a lot of prejudice around single people celebrating anything other than the traditional life milestones of marriage, childbirth and death, no matter how chronically sick they are, and I just don’t think I can handle the social disapproval on top of awkwardness I already feel at being ‘that person’.
Never mind. I didn’t even really want to write this post anyway. Or, more precisely, I hoped I would never have the opportunity to write this post. But here I am, because I feel compelled to reflect on my two-year (thus far and counting) long covid journey. And to be honest, I only really have one thing to say:
Long covid sucks.
It’s the suckiest of all the sucky things to have happened to me. That doesn’t mean it’s the worse thing that’s ever happened to me. There’s a difference between worst and suckiest. I don’t really know how to describe what this difference is, but let’s just say that I find having long covid much easier to manage than the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. With long covid I don’t wake up disappointed that I did, and I actually enjoy my life, even if it’s not the life I would choose. Not that having long covid is easy. Like I said, it sucks. And let’s be very clear here: my life has been unrecognisable since June 2022. I can do barely 50% of what I managed before, and that entire 50% is going to work for three days, recovering for two and a half and then doing the food shopping, batch cooking and washing on the other day and a half. Occasionally, I manage a breakfast or a lunch out with my family or my best friend.
It's not really how I imagined my late thirties, but what can you do when you get hit by a virus that caused a global pandemic and killed millions of people? In the grand scheme of things, I really do have a lot to be grateful for.
And, to lean in hard on the bright side, I can do more now than I could in June 2023.
I did think that maybe I could write about the things I’ve learnt from two years of long covid, and I did actually start doing that, but then I stopped because, at the end of the day, whilst I feel like I ought to write about this thing that has dominated my life for the past two years, I also really, really don’t want to give it more time than it’s already had. Whilst long covid does, frustratingly, shape my life, I refuse to let it define it. That’s the last thing I want.
I already hate that, most likely, in certain circles, I’ve become ‘The One with Long Covid’—which sounds like a problematic Friends episode. I’m probably also ‘my friend with long covid’, ‘my colleague with long covid’, ‘the teacher with long covid’ and ‘the sister with long covid’ (since LJ and I are referred to by our neighbours as ‘the sisters’).
I really don’t want to be ‘the writer with long covid’ or, even worse ‘the long covid writer’. I’m a fiction writer first and foremost, believe it or not—that’s probably a surprise to most of you since I’ve yet to publish any fiction here since I started this newsletter, but I have actually self-published three novels, written two more and I am currently working on a couple of serialised fiction pieces, which, I promise, I will get around to publishing…. the ruddy long covid likes to mess with my cognitive function, so engaging my brain to write sometimes feels like trying to connect to the internet on dial up—I don’t really want to become someone who only writes about their chronic condition. Hence why I find myself writing a post about why I don’t want to write about my long covid.
I also really hate labels. I get that they’re helpful for things like buying groceries, algorithms, dating apps and deciding whether you’re going to be friends with someone or troll them on the internet. Sometimes, they’re even useful for helping people put you in a neat little box so they can pretend they understand you without having to put in the work of developing a meaningful relationship. But I find them rather reductive and since people have this habit of slapping you with labels you never asked for in the first place, I feel like the likelihood of becoming The One with Long Covid is pretty high if I write any more about it.
So, what I think I’m actually getting at here is that, after two years of going back and forth on whether I should or not, I’ve decided that I’m definitely not going to write about long covid again. It doesn’t bring any joy and I think that behind the urge to write about it is the need to constantly justify my life as it is now.
Long covid is a part of my life. It’s a sucky part of it. But it isn’t who I am and it isn’t the tenor of my life. If anything, long covid has helped to clarify more clearly exactly what I want my life to look like: what is important, who is important, what is worth my time and energy, and how to find joy in the smallest of things.
So, yes, long covid sucks, but that’s all it does. In some ways it’s the shadow that makes everything else burn brighter. I’m not going to give it any more time than is absolutely necessary. So, no more long covid posts from me—they have no place here.
Having said that…
If you or someone you know has long covid and is struggling or needs advice or just someone to share their experience with, I am always open to discussion that might benefit another long-covid-sufferer on their recovery journey, so do hit me up by email (see button below), DM, or in the comments. I’m here if you want some help figuring this stuff out.
Favourite Friends episode?
Most useful label you’ve ever encountered on a product? I love the one on new towels ‘Wash before use’… yes, that’s what I intended in the first place… or I wouldn’t have bought the towel?
My sister, the Pink Power Ranger to my Yellow Power Ranger, is now on Substack with her publication Frankly My Dears. Here’s the link if you want to check it out: Frankly My Dears
I’ll also cross-post it… which I’ve never tried before, so wish me luck.
Next time… probably a post about how old towels brought on an over-due epiphany. I know, my life is really exciting.
And some fiction. Soon. Very soon…
Take care, friends!
PJ