We've had Five Years...

all the somebody people, I never thought I'd need so many people

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Sorry for the delay. I start all emails like that these days, so seems appropriate to start this late Substack like that too. I had (as ever), a writing deadline I had already pushed away, small children, a sense of the world falling apart - what I now consider fairly normal things to manage, since we are all managing them at every moment, on every day.

Last week I did an event for the very lovely, Self Space on grief and one of the many things we talked about was, collective grief. The host (the very wise Ryan Campinho Valadas), asked myself and the other panellists, the incredible pairing of Amber Jeffrey (from The Grief Gang) and Laura Main, (a Self Space therapist as well), what we thought when we talked about the phrase ‘collective grief’. Amber mentioned Grenfell, which is a trauma I, as a Londoner, often think of, not least because of its physical presence on our landscape. I think it’s place in the timeline of 2017, marked the start of a lot of terrible tragedies that felt as if we would not be able let them pass without a justice, a fundamental change in our society, and yet… ¹

Couldn’t find a source, but there are a lot of versions of this on the internet and it feels like science.

I found myself, and I apologise for bringing it up, talking about Covid. I am (as I’m sure most of are in some way or another), struggling at the moment, on a low-level-general-everyday-vibe. In fact, I don’t really know any friend that would say they’re ‘fine’². I don’t think the world is fine, and I don’t feel a lot of us are ok… and obviously there’s some big massive real reasons for that - but also, there’s covid, or rather there was covid and still is covid. The pandemic just had its five year anniversary, and I don’t feel we marked this number enough and if we had, perhaps our general instability in the world would make a little more sense.

This anniversary hits me in a quite specific way, as I am part of the mothers-of-covid, and even more specifically, the ones who had babies just before the rules became horrific for those trying to birth people. I had my second child about five days before the first lockdown and so if you want to ask me of my perception of covid’s timeline, I have a live-in clock that I can look at. I can tell you that he’s 3 foot 11 inches tall, he’s at school now, and has no memory of masks, social distancing or party gate.³ And so I suppose I think about it a lot, because there he is (and also I do generally think about death and grief a lot too.) I can’t help but wonder what the five in the five years is doing to us all.

You can buy this in paperback if you want my deeper thoughts on grief and numbers.

I found from doing my podcast, griefcast and then writing my book, You Are Not Alone, that there was a universal vibe about the five numbers in grief. The five year anniversary can feel like the first big marker you pass as you head away from the epicentre of your grief. Ten also does this, and I can tell you for me, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five also hit a little deeper. There’s something solid about those numbers, something grounded that forces you to look back and say, ‘Oh, I see how far we’ve come.’ and I wonder if that’s where we are now. Looking back at a time that was frightening, difficult, full of grief for some of us, full of frustration for others and even a time of joy for some too.

I’ve never been so busy media wise than during covid. Ryan said at the event, that the corporate therapy side of Self Space, increased, Amber also mentioned a similar experience with her online grief groups. And yes, obviously there was a lot more death and grief… but also, people not grieving wanted to talk about it. They wanted help, answers, a sense that there was some kind of system for these horrific feelings. Since then… it’s got a lot quieter. I do understand that you can need a break from grief (my podcast is on a ‘break’ because I very severely needed to stop talking about it.) But I feel sad that the lessons we learned in that time, seem to be slipping way from us. I understand the generation of children, who’s parents fought in World War II, and said they never spoke of it - is that what we’re going to do to those babies who can’t remember it? I know it’s hard, but talk if you need to. Find a grief-pal that isn’t scared to remember it, the strangeness, the loneliness, the madness. It was a very strange and scary time, and we live today, in still equally awful times. Now is not the time to forget the past.

Taken from the National Covid Memorial Wall website.

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Sure, I love chatting about grief, but you know me, I like some frivolity to help us through. So here’s my light recommendations (obvs some are griefy.)

• I read an early copy of Miram Toews, A Truce That is not Peace, and I wanted to weep at how perfect it was. Memoir with a mix of quotes and old letters about her many losses, her career, and life in general. It’s one of those perfect slim volumes that says it all succinctly, it reminded me of Deborah Levy, which is my highest praise. It’s out on 28th August, pre-order now here.

• You know I love Caroline Hirons Skin Rocks range. I just want to shout out to the eye cream and the light moisturiser. They both just do exactly what they say and as an ND woman who gets confused easily, i’m just so relieved about that.

• I bought this Vieve concealer in a moment of overwhelm at Space NK, it was that or walk home weeping and I’d already had a cake that day. It’s bloody good. Not too thick, but also not too light to deal with the massive redness and good for this heat we have approaching us.

1. The meme that the good timeline ended in 2016 when David Bowie died, is one that speaks directly to my heart, being a huge mourner for him and also sort of finding it hard to deny that all the bad stuff seemed to really pile up after that.

2. I did ask one on a drive to a gig this weekend who said, he thought he was fine, but he still had a strong post-Glasto glow.

3. That’s his GCSE history module sorted I suppose.