Draft for Workshopping - Withdrawal Symptoms (06/08)
In Retrospect 8
This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #8: Withdrawal Symptoms - Rough Draft".
After writing the Subject 3 draft, I realised I wasn't happy with it and decided to completely re-write it on Thursday night, August 6th. It was uploaded for workshopping at 12:16 AM, August 7th. I'll be titling it as August 6th so there aren't two posts in one day, and since I did write it mostly during the Thursday.
The most significant changes from the Subject 3 draft include the switch to the memoir style (hence no "Subject 3"), a lack of focus on detailing me as an individual (personality traits, etc) and using the word count instead to focus on my lockdown experience in my academia. I wasn't entirely sure how to separate it, so I simply used numbers. I'd seen it done in other works, like in Jennifer Mills' review of Shaun Prescott's The Town (2017), so I thought it would work here.
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1.
2020 has been a tumultuous start of the new decade. A year none of us were expecting. While in late 2019 and early 2020, Australia was suffering its deadliest bushfire season and there were potential threats of a World War III, what has caused the most significant impact was the spread of COVID-19.
Originating in Wuhan, China, the first cases on Australian soil were confirmed on January 25th. But real life wasn’t fully perturbed by this fact - it was business as usual for the most part. In late February, I attended the RMIT City campus’ Orientation Week events, optimistic that this disease would fly over just as Ebola seemed to several years ago. At least, from my perspective as someone who lives in a first world country.
Australia confirmed its first COVID-19 death on March 1st, but I began my university semester two days later. I began to establish my routine - deciding who to hang out with at certain times in the week, contacting others to arrange for study days together, making it to the morning breakfasts on time, etc. But several days later, the world watched as Italy was put into a harrowing lockdown. On the 11th, the World Health Organization declared a worldwide pandemic.
I attended my final day of on-campus study on March 16th, checking in with friends for what we didn’t know would be the last time for several months.
2.
At first, I found the humorous irony in the situation. After several months of remaining at home, unable to find a summer job, here I was - returning home to study. I approached the semester with zest however, and made sure to check in on my friends and keep their spirits up. Promises of “it’ll all be over soon!” were enough to keep us going strong. The first half of semester went by smoothly - I got most of my assignments done on time, only needing a day or two extra for others. It felt just as normal.
Admittedly, I started to strike up some bad habits. Since I was jobless, stuck at home without needing to travel, I felt like every free minute I had should have been spent studying and completing assignments. This gradually snowballed into an unhealthy mindset and caused me more grief than productivity in the future. Upon looking back at it now from a distance, it’s funny how individuals can make such startlingly bad decisions and not recognise it, hey? Furthermore, since I didn’t need to worry about getting up early to travel, much less move more than about 100 metres in one day, I started to sleep and wake up later. Not 1pm late, but 10am. It’s significant enough to shake me off my usual schedule and I started to feel more and more guilty about achieving less and less in my days. It becomes a self-deprecating cycle.
The second half of the semester… was a sloughfest. I began to fear the onslaught of final assignments due in quick succession of each other, and I planned ahead so I could complete them early and readily. Unfortunately by that point, I was doing as minimal work as I could to fend off mental burnout, plus was taking too much time to linger on assignments to ensure they were perfect. So you can imagine how that went.
There’s an academic calendar taped to my closet door beside my bed. I only really started to use it at the beginning of lockdown, jotting down my daily agendas and assignments. Staring at that poster before I go to sleep every night… it looms over me like an academic guillotine of deadlines. It starts becoming more of a migraine when I draw arrows signifying full week-long extensions to strategically space them out.
In May, my younger sister, K, was able to return to high school for face-to-face learning. I’ll be referring to people by a single letter now, so bear with me. After her school days, she would usually go on walks to see her boyfriend. While I was glad for the opportunity for some private time alone, I started to become jealous. My boyfriend, N, lives up in Queensland, and we only get to see each other once a year, in December. Not having the time to spare to ask friends for a day out, yet with the negative feelings still there, I spent more time than I should have just seething internally.
By the time I was in the midst of my final assignments, in late May, I started to believe all my studying was for naught. There was no physical reward for them. No cheerful hi-fives or satisfying hugs, but a string of letters typed out on a screen by the select friends I chose to inform. I began to look forward to messaging N and a close friend turned crush, G (with N’s knowledge), which gradually pulled me even further away from my work.
Admittedly, I started to strike up some bad habits. Since I was jobless, stuck at home without needing to travel, I felt like every free minute I had should have been spent studying and completing assignments. This gradually snowballed into an unhealthy mindset and caused me more grief than productivity in the future. Upon looking back at it now from a distance, it’s funny how individuals can make such startlingly bad decisions and not recognise it, hey? Furthermore, since I didn’t need to worry about getting up early to travel, much less move more than about 100 metres in one day, I started to sleep and wake up later. Not 1pm late, but 10am. It’s significant enough to shake me off my usual schedule and I started to feel more and more guilty about achieving less and less in my days. It becomes a self-deprecating cycle.
The second half of the semester… was a sloughfest. I began to fear the onslaught of final assignments due in quick succession of each other, and I planned ahead so I could complete them early and readily. Unfortunately by that point, I was doing as minimal work as I could to fend off mental burnout, plus was taking too much time to linger on assignments to ensure they were perfect. So you can imagine how that went.
There’s an academic calendar taped to my closet door beside my bed. I only really started to use it at the beginning of lockdown, jotting down my daily agendas and assignments. Staring at that poster before I go to sleep every night… it looms over me like an academic guillotine of deadlines. It starts becoming more of a migraine when I draw arrows signifying full week-long extensions to strategically space them out.
In May, my younger sister, K, was able to return to high school for face-to-face learning. I’ll be referring to people by a single letter now, so bear with me. After her school days, she would usually go on walks to see her boyfriend. While I was glad for the opportunity for some private time alone, I started to become jealous. My boyfriend, N, lives up in Queensland, and we only get to see each other once a year, in December. Not having the time to spare to ask friends for a day out, yet with the negative feelings still there, I spent more time than I should have just seething internally.
By the time I was in the midst of my final assignments, in late May, I started to believe all my studying was for naught. There was no physical reward for them. No cheerful hi-fives or satisfying hugs, but a string of letters typed out on a screen by the select friends I chose to inform. I began to look forward to messaging N and a close friend turned crush, G (with N’s knowledge), which gradually pulled me even further away from my work.
3.
You might be starting to wonder - did I go out at all? The answer is… not for my own pleasure. Just a couple of doctor visits… no walks. Why was this? Answer: I was secretly proud of my stay-at-home record, and was totally going to somehow brag about it to my friends. Upon writing that out though, it’s actually pitiable rather than admirable. Anyway, when I was asked to by my mother, naturally concerned about my health (I’m a chubby girl, I’ll have ya know) I cited my university work as an excuse. That was partially it - the other half was that I was lazy. Furthermore, I didn’t want to contribute a solid hour I knew wasn’t going to be study when it was an hour I could have spent studying… which, is a totally garbage way to look at it, especially since I’d end up procrastinating in the end.
Come the start of June, and G and I have been busting to see each other. He tells me he has a free week before his exams begin, and offers a chance to meet up. I quickly decline though every body cell screams yes, because of my impending assignments, and since I don’t feel I deserve this “reward” due to my slipping work ethic. I thought it would be more righteous to punish myself and use this meetup as a goal, even if that totally wouldn’t have helped my motivation in the end. N was concerned that I was burning out, and saw how tempted I was by G’s offer, clearly indicated by how much I fantasised about it to him. But I wouldn’t take his suggestion. I told him instead to order me to do it, so I felt more compelled. He did just that, and finally, I let myself give in.
We went out on Wednesday, June 3rd, during Victoria’s lowest transmission rate. The nationwide lockdown is over, but I remained acutely aware of the social distancing guidelines. We met at Melbourne Central, and as I stepped through the ticket gates, our gazes connected. A hot, flustered wave rushed through my body as he drew close, dangerously close, expecting a hug. My instincts told me to oblige but I reluctantly stood my ground, hands close to myself.
We stepped into Coles for some dental floss I needed to buy. The narrow aisles and need to socially distance from others failed to help my plight, as he remained right on my heels, so tantalisingly close. My body started to hunger for his touch, every inch of skin going haywire for the ration of physical affection it had been craving for someone that wasn’t my Mum. The suppressing paranoia of people watching us managed to subdue it for the time being. Had I been shorter and perhaps kept isolated for a couple years longer, I might have turned into a Gollum where my “Precious” was physical affection.
We soon left and rode the escalators up to Milligram, a deluxe stationery store. Unfortunately, it was closed. I looked on at the wall of fountain pen ink colours the same way a poor kid gazes longingly at a video game he can’t afford to buy. The reason I can make that expression is because I know how that feels. Anyway, we decided to head for Dymocks. But as we started to walk, I noticed there were relatively few people around. Suddenly, my body leapt at the opportunity. I asked for a hug. And he accepted.
As I opened my arms up to embrace him, I knew it was wrong to see this guy friend, despite being one I was crushing on with N’s knowledge, as a momentary substitute for my boyfriend so far away. G wasn’t simply a replacement. And he wasn’t primarily into women anyway. It was wrong to mentally use him as my “boyfriend for a day”.
But the moment I felt his arms wrap around me, his warm hug the perfect pressure, my walls broke down. The floodgates were open. All my body could do was demand for more, the way a vampire can’t stop until it drains its victim entirely. Squeezing him provided only temporary relief, and then, we let go.
So began our journey throughout the city, stopping at various locations along the way, such as Lush and Officeworks. We started to accustom ourselves with the sight of a hand-sanitising station smack dab in the middle of every entranceway of every store in the city. That’s probably how it’s going to stay once we enter the new “Covid-normal”. We eventually arrived at Dymocks, a large book and gift ware store, and embarked on a dérive, wandering through the store, examining things that took our fancy. From a distance, I supposed we almost appeared like a couple. The way I made him try on a blue apron and snapped some photos excitedly afterwards, or gushed over some of the expensive notebooks together, it seemed so. A small part of me felt bad that I was treating him in this way. Probably born out of jealousy, perhaps an envy of K’s outings with her boyfriend, I wound up playfully flirting with G the whole day.
Following June 3rd, I felt like I could do absolutely anything. I told N I was “socially recharged”, and this positivity managed to last me throughout my last couple of assignments readily. Two weeks later, I’ve finished them all and have 3 outings planned for the week starting June 22nd.
I tend to get pretty excited about outings and I get radically disappointed when they get cancelled. And this is exactly what occurs for two of them. The final event, visiting G in his home suburb, I cancelled myself, thanks to the newly rising Victorian transmission rate. It sat at about 40 on Friday, June 26th.
But on June 30th, my suburb was included among the 10 that went into lockdown. And on July 9th, the rest of Metropolitan Melbourne and Mitchell Shire joined us. Not much happened in July, but come August 2nd, a state of disaster was declared in Victoria, effective from 6pm that day. And just a bit after that…. Is where this essay is coming to you from.
Come the start of June, and G and I have been busting to see each other. He tells me he has a free week before his exams begin, and offers a chance to meet up. I quickly decline though every body cell screams yes, because of my impending assignments, and since I don’t feel I deserve this “reward” due to my slipping work ethic. I thought it would be more righteous to punish myself and use this meetup as a goal, even if that totally wouldn’t have helped my motivation in the end. N was concerned that I was burning out, and saw how tempted I was by G’s offer, clearly indicated by how much I fantasised about it to him. But I wouldn’t take his suggestion. I told him instead to order me to do it, so I felt more compelled. He did just that, and finally, I let myself give in.
We went out on Wednesday, June 3rd, during Victoria’s lowest transmission rate. The nationwide lockdown is over, but I remained acutely aware of the social distancing guidelines. We met at Melbourne Central, and as I stepped through the ticket gates, our gazes connected. A hot, flustered wave rushed through my body as he drew close, dangerously close, expecting a hug. My instincts told me to oblige but I reluctantly stood my ground, hands close to myself.
We stepped into Coles for some dental floss I needed to buy. The narrow aisles and need to socially distance from others failed to help my plight, as he remained right on my heels, so tantalisingly close. My body started to hunger for his touch, every inch of skin going haywire for the ration of physical affection it had been craving for someone that wasn’t my Mum. The suppressing paranoia of people watching us managed to subdue it for the time being. Had I been shorter and perhaps kept isolated for a couple years longer, I might have turned into a Gollum where my “Precious” was physical affection.
We soon left and rode the escalators up to Milligram, a deluxe stationery store. Unfortunately, it was closed. I looked on at the wall of fountain pen ink colours the same way a poor kid gazes longingly at a video game he can’t afford to buy. The reason I can make that expression is because I know how that feels. Anyway, we decided to head for Dymocks. But as we started to walk, I noticed there were relatively few people around. Suddenly, my body leapt at the opportunity. I asked for a hug. And he accepted.
As I opened my arms up to embrace him, I knew it was wrong to see this guy friend, despite being one I was crushing on with N’s knowledge, as a momentary substitute for my boyfriend so far away. G wasn’t simply a replacement. And he wasn’t primarily into women anyway. It was wrong to mentally use him as my “boyfriend for a day”.
But the moment I felt his arms wrap around me, his warm hug the perfect pressure, my walls broke down. The floodgates were open. All my body could do was demand for more, the way a vampire can’t stop until it drains its victim entirely. Squeezing him provided only temporary relief, and then, we let go.
So began our journey throughout the city, stopping at various locations along the way, such as Lush and Officeworks. We started to accustom ourselves with the sight of a hand-sanitising station smack dab in the middle of every entranceway of every store in the city. That’s probably how it’s going to stay once we enter the new “Covid-normal”. We eventually arrived at Dymocks, a large book and gift ware store, and embarked on a dérive, wandering through the store, examining things that took our fancy. From a distance, I supposed we almost appeared like a couple. The way I made him try on a blue apron and snapped some photos excitedly afterwards, or gushed over some of the expensive notebooks together, it seemed so. A small part of me felt bad that I was treating him in this way. Probably born out of jealousy, perhaps an envy of K’s outings with her boyfriend, I wound up playfully flirting with G the whole day.
Following June 3rd, I felt like I could do absolutely anything. I told N I was “socially recharged”, and this positivity managed to last me throughout my last couple of assignments readily. Two weeks later, I’ve finished them all and have 3 outings planned for the week starting June 22nd.
I tend to get pretty excited about outings and I get radically disappointed when they get cancelled. And this is exactly what occurs for two of them. The final event, visiting G in his home suburb, I cancelled myself, thanks to the newly rising Victorian transmission rate. It sat at about 40 on Friday, June 26th.
But on June 30th, my suburb was included among the 10 that went into lockdown. And on July 9th, the rest of Metropolitan Melbourne and Mitchell Shire joined us. Not much happened in July, but come August 2nd, a state of disaster was declared in Victoria, effective from 6pm that day. And just a bit after that…. Is where this essay is coming to you from.
4.
I’m not entirely sure what to say. I’m here where I am now, writing this essay at the start of yet another lockdown. You could see this as a letter, perhaps a cry for help from the time period I’m in, or a reflection of the events that have transpired so far.
I don’t think my core personality has changed. I’m still a kind human being, one who goes out of their way to help others in any way I can, and have been contributing positively in class. But it’s irrefutable the lockdown’s worn us all down, and my heart aches in empathy, listening to my classmates discussing how hard it is to find motivation in their work as well.
I feel like a flawed, exhausted version of myself from one year ago. I don’t know if I’ve matured as a human being, but certainly as someone who’s struggled with this kind of social isolation. I hope we don’t ever have to undergo something like this in the future.
When I look back on it, this essay’s about the symptoms of social withdrawal in a person. Someone who winds up putting on a jacket to cure the touch-starvation crawling all over her skin. Someone who regrets how painfully short each hug in their life ever was. Someone who spends a bit more time than they should, fantasising about human touch whilst lying in bed. Someone like maybe who you once were, dear reader, in 2020.
I look forward… I look forward to looking back on this essay in the future, a loved one wrapped in my arms, reassuring me that the tough times are over. I hope this essay stands as a testament to the hardships even as someone in a wonderfully advanced country has experienced in these unprecedented times.
I truly hope it’s all okay in the end.
I don’t think my core personality has changed. I’m still a kind human being, one who goes out of their way to help others in any way I can, and have been contributing positively in class. But it’s irrefutable the lockdown’s worn us all down, and my heart aches in empathy, listening to my classmates discussing how hard it is to find motivation in their work as well.
I feel like a flawed, exhausted version of myself from one year ago. I don’t know if I’ve matured as a human being, but certainly as someone who’s struggled with this kind of social isolation. I hope we don’t ever have to undergo something like this in the future.
When I look back on it, this essay’s about the symptoms of social withdrawal in a person. Someone who winds up putting on a jacket to cure the touch-starvation crawling all over her skin. Someone who regrets how painfully short each hug in their life ever was. Someone who spends a bit more time than they should, fantasising about human touch whilst lying in bed. Someone like maybe who you once were, dear reader, in 2020.
I look forward… I look forward to looking back on this essay in the future, a loved one wrapped in my arms, reassuring me that the tough times are over. I hope this essay stands as a testament to the hardships even as someone in a wonderfully advanced country has experienced in these unprecedented times.
I truly hope it’s all okay in the end.
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