How Are You, Really?
How are you today?
It’s almost a year since a nation-wide lockdown rendered the streets of Singapore silent and windswept. A year since we were forced into another way of living. As much as we tried to hold on to familiar rhythms, we had to navigate new routines and boundaries without many tools to help us along.
I remember going through prolonged periods of worry and stress. My own family faced crisis after crisis: my parents, who run a small engineering company, had their Factory-Turned-Dorm (FTD) emerge as a mini COVID-19 cluster. We couldn’t sleep for weeks, trapped by the fear of phone calls and the news they would bring, yet unable to do anything but wait for updates. It is also now quieter at home, for there were relationships that fragmented with a scary finality.
These happened in a climate full of anxiety, grief and loss all around the world. We all have stories that carry deep pain. Some have lost loved ones. Some no longer have jobs. All lost hold on the plans that would’ve dictated how our lives would pan out.
But there were also tales of surprise and delight. Losing hold on what we knew led to discoveries of new hobbies, along with the opportunity to reconnect to the simple things that brought us joy. Daily walks with family under the sunset sky. Cycling in the cool deep night. Feeding sourdough starters and baking banana bread.
Time passed in a strange distorted manner, and here we are today. Our roads are busy. Our hawker centres bustle with activity during all hours. Restaurants and bars throb with evening revellers. This, even as the world remains in flux around us. Systemic and cultural fractures, unsustainable environmental policies and practices, the complexity of the solutions we need — all these came into intense clarity in a way that demanded nothing else but change.
The dichotomy of multiple realities makes it feel extra surreal to watch how things go on almost as before, almost as we are working to erase the pandemic day by day. As if driven by a need to reclaim comfort and stability in our lives, even if that means forgetting.
Pandemic or not, the speed of life is still ever breathtaking. That makes me worry, for memories do not simply disappear. They remain in our bodies, our relationships, and the systems we function in and build. The process of reflection, of processing and assimilating what we feel and experience, isn’t quite integrated into our everyday. Nor is it rewarded like being efficient or effective.
My invitation to you here is to take a moment to connect with where you are right now. Forget the calendar. Forget timelines. Ask yourself: Have you had the chance to fully experience what you went through in the past year? Are there emotions and wounds still left untreated, or joys uncelebrated? How are you feeling today, and how are you, really?
As for myself, I find comfort in holding on to the wonderful things that have emerged during the pandemic. A substantial number of the ways our communities showed up to support those in need, and the rise of home businesses and bakeries, still remain. There is a sense that a seed has been planted — the awareness of our need for connection, our unity in the profound human emotions that drive us, and the agency we have to change things.
And that really brings me hope.
∞
