It goes without saying that this year has been a bit of a shitshow. I have experienced every emotion on the emotional spectrum (sometimes over the course of just one day), have become accustomed to that jittery feeling that comes with realising just how powerless I am, and the way my heart sinks each time new restrictions are announced and plans are cancelled. I have cried, cursed, vented, screamed behind my steering wheel (turns out the car is a great place for letting off steam) and tried every trick in the book to switch off my overactive mind so that I can actually get some sleep at night.
In spite of all this, I am able to look back on the year with some fondness and recognise that I have an awful lot to be thankful for — here are my 20 gratitudes for 2020:
1. Getting away before it all kicked off
Last year, I spent all winter training for the Barcelona half marathon, which thankfully I was able to complete, as it took place before the pandemic really kicked off. One month later, my best friend in my former hometown of Berlin paid for me to fly out there to celebrate her birthday with her. I am hugely grateful for that trip, firstly because I actually made it, despite losing my passport on the way to the airport (more on that later) and secondly because it provided me with the opportunity for adventure and quality time with my friend before everything went into lockdown just two weeks later. (I also got my fix of “wildness” at the city’s notorious KitKatKlub.)
2. The kindness of strangers
At the start of the pandemic, people seemed to adopt a real “we’re all in this together” attitude and I observed strangers being kinder and more helpful than ever. On the morning of my flight to Berlin, I remember looking down at my bag to find it was open and everything had fallen out, including my passport (I still feel a surge of panic when I think back to that moment). A sweet old engineer saw that I was in a complete state and offered to help me look for the things I’d dropped. He ended up walking all the way back to the car park in Horley where I had left my car, all the while scanning the dark streets with his torch (it was just after 5am). A few metres away from that car park, I spotted my passport lying on the street. I am grateful to that lovely engineer, whose name was Tim, not only for keeping me company, but also for succeeding in calming me down when I was hysterical, allowing me to think straight instead of continuing to run around the airport like a headless chicken.
Not long after this incident, I went on a long walk in the Cotswolds and two hours in, realised my car key had fallen out of my bag. Once again, I went into full-blown panic mode and began frantically searching for it with help from the two friends I was with. One local woman saw us and suggested taking my details so that she could ask around in the community and get back to me on the off-chance someone found my key. That night, one of my friends drove me home and the next day we returned to the area to take another look. Eventually, we gave up and I spent the rest of the day waiting in the pub car park for the AA, who took almost eight hours to come to my rescue. In that time, a young woman called Gabi who lived and worked at the pub, popped out every so often to keep me company and bring me water and snacks. She gave me the pub’s WiFi password and offered to let me use their landline too, as there was practically no signal there. After what seemed like forever, the AA finally came and towed me home. Three days later, I got a message from Jude, the woman I had met while searching for my key, who had received a response to the post she had written on a local Facebook page — someone had found a black key and left it on a gatepost in the next-door village. Without asking, she went and picked it up for me and sent me a picture just to confirm it was mine (thankfully it was). Despite the amount of stress I felt over those few days, I was touched by the lengths that Jude and Gabi had gone to for me, so much so that I was almost glad to have had this experience. Little things like that are enough to restore my faith in humanity.
3. The opportunity to be of service
At the start of the first lockdown, a woman in my village set up a WhatsApp group for people who wanted to volunteer in the community, helping elderly and vulnerable people with shopping, posting mail and picking up urgent supplies. After showing my interest, I was given leaflets to post in my area with my phone number on and in the days that followed, I received three or four phone calls from different households. One elderly couple, Gill and John, asked me to do a weekly shop for them and each time I brought them their shopping, I would stand a couple of metres from their door and we would chat, sometimes for up to an hour. I can honestly say this was a highlight of most weeks. I still pop round to see them from time to time and, since telling them how much I love puzzles, they now send me home with a collection of puzzle pages that they have kept from their newspapers — that never fails to give me a warm and fuzzy feeling.
4. My Dance Movement Psychotherapy course
Last year, I decided to apply to do a Masters in Dance Movement Psychotherapy, something I had fantasised about but did not really believe I was capable of; I had no relevant qualifications, was not trained in any particular style of dance and had done very little work with vulnerable people. To my amazement, all three universities that I applied to invited me for an interview and of those, two offered me places. I snapped up the offer from the University of Roehampton and now, fifteen months in, I can safely say it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I am grateful beyond belief that my course was able to go ahead (albeit virtually) during the first lockdown and in September, we were able to resume face-to-face learning. This MA has been my anchor this year, whilst everything else has felt so shaky and uncertain. It has given me a sense of purpose and a community of wonderful women, all of whom have all been incredibly supportive during these hard times. Thank you to you all.
5. Dancing with children on the autistic spectrum over Zoom
As part of my course, I worked as a trainee Dance Movement Psychotherapist at a school for children on the autistic spectrum. Naturally, the school closed earlier in the year, but the therapist I had been shadowing asked if I would like to continue with the sessions over Zoom. At the time, I was grateful and relieved that I would be able to carry on seeing the children, but also very sceptical about how effective online sessions would be with this client group. Somehow though, it worked. We had to reduce the size of the groups so that no more than three people were attending each session, and we had to get creative with what was around us (virtually everything in my room became a prop). One of my most memorable experiences was leading a “Christmas warm-up” in the middle of the summer, donned in a Santa hat and apron, as one of the boys and his mother simply adored Christmas. Some weeks later, that boy’s mother told us how much the sessions meant to her and her son, as they were one thing that remained constant during a time when everything else was changing so frequently. I even had the chance to go back to the school once it had reopened and see the children in person at the end of their term, which was such a joy. Overall, the online DMP experience was a challenging but incredibly rewarding one and I am eternally grateful to have been given the chance to take part.
6. The great shift outdoors
For the time being, pubs have been replaced with parks and we’re going for picnics with one another (even in the winter it seems) rather than out for dinner. Personally I love the fact that the norm has become “shall we meet for a walk?” rather than “shall we meet for a drink?” as it’s healthier, more affordable and in my opinion, a lot more enjoyable. I have fully embraced al fresco living and over the course of this year, I‘ve met with friends to dance and do yoga outdoors, to walk, cycle, swim and even indulge in the odd mud fight. We are spending more time in nature, with nature, and being forced to use our imaginations. All that wonderful weather during the first lockdown also gave me an excuse to explore different hiking and biking routes in my area, which I probably would not have allowed myself the time for B.C. (Before Covid). I’d take that over sitting in a crowded pub any day of the week.
7. Reuniting with old friends
This year, I have experienced strong pangs of nostalgia for certain people who were once a huge part of my life and whom I had not given much thought until lockdown, when all of a sudden I had all the time in the world to think. I began reminiscing about the times shared with these people and realised just how much I missed them and wanted to reconnect with them. From the man I bought sandwiches from daily when I worked in Buenos Aires, who went on to become a friend (he even delivered a platter to my office on the day I left the city), through to my best childhood friend, who was really more like a sister to me, and who I sadly lost touch with around the age of fifteen, these reconnections were an absolute gift of the pandemic. When I saw Sophie, my childhood friend, I could not believe how little had changed; she was still the same sparkly, beautiful and playful person she always had been. There were tears, (slightly illegal) hugs and laughter as we reminisced about our time together growing up and when I left, we promised each other we would not lose touch again. I am fairly certain this reunion would not have happened had this year been anything close to ‘normal’.
8. The opportunity to dance with people
One thing I have missed like mad this year and started craving badly around the start of July was dancing, not alone in my bedroom, or in front of a computer screen with tiny projections of people, but with human beings in the flesh. I remember writing a message to a guy named Steve, who had been running Ecstatic Dance events in Bristol, asking if there was any way we could instigate an outdoor dance together. Fortunately, he had already beaten me to it and was in the process of organising the first Ecstatic Dance Bristol open air event, which was to take place two weeks later. I went along, kicked off my shoes and spent three hours flailing my limbs on the Clifton Downs with like-minded souls, while passersby looked at us with curiosity and some confusion (we had headsets on so they could not actually hear the music). It certainly gave me the fix I was after and I have returned several times since, the last time being when the tier 4 restrictions came into place and most of the country seemed to sink into an even deeper state of misery. At the end of that dance, I had tears in my eyes; the level of gratitude I felt for having discovered a tribe who recognise the importance of coming together and dancing at times like these, and for Steve, who had managed to keep the events going against all odds, was unparalleled.
9. Saving the pennies
A definite perk of 2020 is that I have spent little to no money on the things that usually exhaust my wallet: driving, raving, going out for dinner, going to yoga classes, meeting friends for coffee, etc. Luckily I have never been much of a consumer when it comes to material things, so I was not tempted to resort to online shopping as a way to inject a little excitement into my day, nor did I binge buy films from Amazon. Most of my work ground to a halt in March, so I have not really been earning that much either, but thankfully Universal Credit came to my rescue. My thanks also goes out to my mother and stepfather, who have helped me out with money for food and rent.
10. The band who sang for me on my birthday
It was my birthday in July and I was lucky enough to spend it in rural southern France, along with my family and two of my best friends. I had been longing to spend time with my friends but was unsure if any of them would want to get on a plane and spend the weekend away from home, as it seemed so many people had grown rather accustomed to lockdown life. Thankfully, these two did and we spent all our time walking, cycling, swimming and taking full advantage of the unbroken sunshine. The weekend culminated in a tiny bar, where a local band was playing and young children were dancing. Going to a venue where there is music and not dancing is a bit like going to a restaurant and not eating for me, so I decided to join them, even though I stuck out like a sore thumb being the only adult. My mother got chatting to the band members and told them it was my birthday, to which they responded by singing Happy Birthday to me, not just in one language but three! It was such a joyful night and being in a lively bar with music, dancing and children running around was the closest thing to a normal experience I had had since the start of the pandemic.
11. Volunteering at Medicine Festival
Medicine Festival in Aldermaston was one of the only festivals that took place this year and it just so happened to be around the corner from me. The £200 ticket price was a little out of my budget, but with a bit of luck (and rather a lot of persistence), I managed to get a free ticket in exchange for eighteen hours of volunteering. On the first day, I was wondering if I had made a bad decision; it had been raining non-stop and typically I had gone for “fun and weird” over “practical and comfortable” attire, so standing still for six hours whilst stewarding was a pretty miserable experience. However, as the weather improved, so did my mood and once I had completed my three shifts, I spent all my time exploring the festival grounds, meeting people, dancing (obviously) and even going for a naked swim in the lake. I made some real connections that weekend, particularly with one person, who made me laugh so much that my tummy ached. It was a magical experience, which allowed me to release my inner wild child and for that, I am extremely grateful.
12. Quizzes
Like many people, I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with Zoom — without it, I would not have been able to continue with my course or take part in DMP sessions with those children, however I do not believe it is a suitable replacement for events, so when all the festivals, raves and conscious dance parties I had been looking forward to moved online, I found myself getting really aggravated. What does work well over Zoom though is quizzes, and I surprised myself by how much I enjoyed taking part in them. One friend of mine, Kieran, really went to town with his quizzes, which included PowerPoint slides with images and music, topics ranging from science to dildos, and a clever Excel spreadsheet that automatically updated our scores after each round. During both lockdowns, these quizzes provided a welcome distraction from all the chaos (both external and internal), as well as a chance to bond with people and focus on things that were not related to the C word.
13. A newfound appreciation for time with friends
For a good two months of the year, I did not see a single friend in person and as I have already said, the Zoom gatherings weren’t exactly doing it for me. I am very much a people person and an extrovert, meaning I recharge around others — spending time with friends simultaneously energises me and brings me calm. However, when I did get the chance to see my friends, be it for a walk, a barbecue, or any other socially distant occasion, it was all the more appreciated. One of my favourite weekends of the year was the weekend of October 10th/11th, when five of my closest friends from university came to visit. We had already postponed this gathering twice so when it finally happened and we were all able to get together, I was both relieved and extremely grateful. We did not even need to do much; just being with people I love was enough to make that weekend special after so much time spent apart. Thank you to those cherished friends.
14. The invitation to collaborate on a campaign supporting struggling musicians
My (extremely talented) artist friend and fellow raver Wes decided to use his time during lockdown making art born out of his raving experience. What began as a bit of fun — making graphics to go on t-shirts that he and his friends could wear on nights out, evolved into a more conscious project, whereby all proceeds from the t-shirts he sold went to a charity supporting musicians hit hard by the pandemic. I was delighted when he asked me if I would like to collaborate with him and write articles to go alongside his graphics. Last month, I wrote and published my first article, Tuneful protests: how five dance tracks challenged the politics of their day to coincide with the completion of Wes’ Weapon of Mass Destruction graphic. His t-shirts are available to purchase from Everpress if anyone is interested.
15. Securing two placements for my second year
As I approached year two of my Masters, I began searching for new places where I could work as a trainee. We were told to find two, one of which had to be an adult mental health setting, which I found somewhat daunting. After writing email upon email to schools, community centres, hospitals, charities, homeless shelters and even prisons and either receiving no response or being told “Sorry, we aren’t accepting trainees this year due to the current circumstances,” I was feeling pretty deflated. Determined not to give up though, I persisted with my search and finally managed to secure two placements — one at a preschool, one at a rehab — and feel extremely fortunate to have done so. Working with such different client groups has made it all the more interesting and although I was terrified at the prospect of running a session by myself for the first time (particularly at the rehab), I also felt sure that I was doing exactly what I was born to do. I have had a lot of jobs over my lifetime, across a range of industries, but I had never experienced that feeling of complete surety that I was doing what was right for me until this year.
16. Fewer tourists
One of my favourite things about this year was travelling to places such as Bibury, one of the most famous locations in the Cotswolds, and the Lake District, another hugely popular destination, and not seeing the hordes of tourists you would usually expect to see. Over my birthday weekend in France, we visited the Uzès Market, which is normally absolutely packed with people from other parts of France and Europe but, whilst it had retained its buzz, we were able to browse the stalls easily without being squished like sardines in a large crowd and having to mumble “Excusez-moi” every couple of minutes. I appreciated that A LOT.
17. Being asked to be a godmother
This has nothing to do with the pandemic, but I couldn’t leave it out. Being asked to be a godmother to one of my best friend’s sons was a huge honour and I felt so touched to have been asked. Definitely another highlight of 2020 for me.
18. Online fellowship meetings
All the fellowship meetings I attend moved online at the start of the pandemic, which was pretty weird to begin with and I certainly didn’t feel the level of connection I’m used to feeling in meetings. However, I felt extremely grateful just to be part of a fellowship at a time when giving and receiving support became more important than ever. I also loved the fact that I could “visit” meetings in other parts of the world, especially Berlin, where I spent a lot of time in my early recovery. I will never take these safe spaces, where we all talk openly, cry, rant and swear without judgement, for granted, be it online or in the flesh.
19. A low-key Christmas
I’m aware as I write this that many people were completely alone this Christmas, so I don’t want to hark on about how enjoyable it was for me, but the main reason for that was because ours was small and low-key: no aunts, uncles, grandparents, half-siblings, step-siblings or friends; it was just me, my mother, stepfather, sister and sister’s boyfriend, who was unable to return to his family home in Ireland. There was no small talk at drinks parties, no extravagant gift exchanges and virtually no stress. The only time we left the house was to go on walks or pop to the local supermarket and I thoroughly enjoyed taking a break from spending so much time on the road. If every Christmas from now on could be as laid-back and simple as that, I would be very happy.
20. The opportunity for self-reflection
I have never been particularly good at being still but, as I mentioned in a previous article, this year was a bit like a period of enforced spirituality for me (and many others no doubt). I have spent more time delving inwards and getting to know myself than would have been possible without the opportunity for self-reflection that being in a lockdown gave me. On top of meetings, I was taking advantage of reduced cost therapy, online rebirthing sessions, long conversations with my sponsor and the ninety minutes at the end of each university day, which was devoted to our personal process. It was intense, and sometimes felt like too much, but I have learned over the years that from pain and discomfort comes an enormous amount of growth and sometimes what feels like a breakdown is actually a breakthrough — if there was just one takeaway from 2020, that would be it for me.
