"I love deceleration"
"I'm better than ever"
"I don't need people"
Sentences like this are flying around my ears at the weekend. I read it, I hear it. I can feel it. Part of me nods in agreement until the other notices that nobody can see it. Then he writes in agreement, finally he finally manages to finish reading his book and anyway – when was a Saturday the last time as relaxed as these days?
Another part of me is pouting in the corner of my inner life. He punched me on the stomach wall while I answered: "Yes, I feel the same way!". He lets me revise the words while I'm typing them. And when he gets particularly strong and angry, he bursts "I don't like anymore " out. To be quickly put into perspective by his opponent:
"I think I can also get PMS"
"They're just the hormones"
"I don't sleep well, but it's also a full moon"
It is sentences like these that I not only send myself, but also receive. I perceive the ambivalence of feelings not only in myself, but also in my environment. We are in the third week of exit restrictions in Germany. The first vacation associations of the home office are over, the sweatpants are no longer so loose, the to-do list is ticked off. You have time. Time for something beautiful. Actually.
I could get my balcony ready for the week, so I think happily this Saturday morning – after a long breakfast, without stress, without time pressure. Come on, enjoy it, Part I demands at the same time and raises the corners of my mouth.
But in the meantime, Part II scoops up a bucket of water in the hidden closet of my eyelid without telling me about it. I am first surprised, then overwhelmed, then angry, as a single tear rolls down my cheek. Surprised because I'm fine. Overwhelmed because two emotional worlds fight in me. Angry because there is really no reason to cry.
"I'm a bit chipped"
"I was up to 4 tonight"
"I do not know what's going on"
It is sentences like these that gush out of people, out of me. Part II is in power now. He says what I don't want to admit to myself. That not everything is okay. That we are in an exceptional situation that we have never experienced before. That a virus is spreading worldwide. That our four basic needs are shaken at the same time. That we miss people we can't be close to, that we care about their and our future. That we are unsettled and do not know how to proceed – and we have questions that nobody can answer.
All of this is new. It is real. Then why don't we allow ourselves to let reality affect our feelings? Why do we still ask to be strong, compare ourselves to others in an incomparable situation?
The confessions are more for me than for my best friend or family to whom I send them this Saturday morning. And their answers are not just for me, but for everyone:
"It is completely normal."
"It passes."
"We are all like that."