How’s your quarantine going? Are you feeling happy and healthy? Or are you like me, gaining weight and ready to kill your neighbour?

For me, the biggest problem with the self-isolation is not the being alone. As an introvert I am kind of fond of it, it’s my go to relaxing stage. But the part of being forced to be by yourself, and not being able to go out and do the things I would usually do when I’m by myself is getting to me. It’s not like I can go to the movies, hang out at an amusement park or even travel in good conscience. And I do not own a car, my bike was stole a few years back, so I am reliant on public transport which feels like a cesspool of infection right now.

Generally I’m not afraid of getting sick, I believe I’m in good enough condition to survive a round of Covid (I’ve survived the swine flu and mono without dying, I’ve got this), but I don’t want to risk the health of others who are less equipped to handle it. Like my grandfather. 
The whole uncertainty of the world, with global finance being in the shitter and the traveling restrictions (and the shaming, rightfully so, of people who can’t stay put when they should) is adding a layer of constant, low energy stress to my life that I don’t need.

Other than what’s probably a little bit of lowkey depression, it messed up my weight loss completely. I had been steadily losing weight for like 8 months, was down like 8 kgs and getting back to a pre-drepression weight and the BAM! Fucking pandemic! I did not handle it well, and I’m now, 5 month later, up 6 kg. Fun isn’t it? Let’s just not only have constant mild anxiety that it’s like the world is coming to an end, let’s make all the hard weight-loss work undone while we’re at it. Because God forbid we’d happy AND less fat. I’m not gonna say skinny, because I’ll never be skinny (I’ve never been skinny as  an adult), but less fat/obese perhaps?

Add to that the over 100 days of working at home with a neighbour on the floor above that plays techno on max volume at random times during the day, daily moves his furniture by dragging it across the floor (can someone get this man an interior decorator that can get his floor plan figured out?!) and stomps up and down the stairs as well as through his apartment with what I can only assume is combat boots, for shits and giggles. And no fucking way I’m knocking on his door to ask wtf he’s doing. I’ve done that once in the past like 8 years (around midnight a Tuesday when he must have been flipping his furniture over like a cross fitter flips tires) and he opened with a baseball bat in his hand telling me  there’s no way he’s stopping and then slamming the door. 

So how are you doing? Are you hanging in there? Are you struggling or are you all good? Let me know! If you’re doing well I’d love to know what you’re doing and if you’re struggling, well then we can bitch about it together.