Second Draft - Symptoms of... (25/08)

In Retrospect 17

This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #20: Close-to-Final Draft - Symptoms of...". It was published at 12:44am on 26/08/20, but the upload date is now changed to 25/08/20, since most of the work had been done on that day. I also tend to consider the time before sleeping as part of the "day", even if I've passed the midnight mark. In addition, this is likely the first draft in which I decided to switch my sister's initial from K to L. I'd fix it in retrospect but I'm going to leave in it, to keep the original piece intact. I'm only correcting any spelling or grammar errors in these posts for clarity.

In this Retrospective editing, I've added in the brain storm plan I used to formulae this essay.

In this draft, I did away with the numbers, but gave each section a name, something to suffer symptoms of.

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Section 1: Brainstorm Plan & References

Final note, there are two new sources in there that since I've fully cited (as far as Creative Nonfiction standards go), I'll still cite them here with Harvard referencing. I didn't take any notes, because the information was fairly brief and I simply slipped it into the essay:

Miller-Keane Encyclopedia and Dictionary of Medicine, Nursing, and Allied Health 2003, Burnout, The Free Dictionary, viewed 24 August 2020, <https://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/burnout>.

Embree M 2013, Envy, The Free Dictionary, viewed 24 August 2020, <https://www.thefreedictionary.com/envy>.

Wikipedia Contributors 2013, The Five Love Languages, Wikipedia, viewed 24 August, <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Five_Love_Languages>.

Section 2: Symptoms of...

BURNOUT

The Miller-Keane Encyclopedia and Dictionary of Medicine, Nursing and Allied Health defines burnout as mental and physical exhaustion resulting from environmental and internal stressors, and insufficient coping and adaptive skills. The afflicted may also exhibit an increasingly negative attitude towards their work, low self-esteem and self-deprecation.

Strategies for preventing and managing burnout include the usual, “setting realistic personal goals, learning and using coping mechanisms to deal with emotions, ensuring oneself adequate relaxation and recreation, maintaining a healthy lifestyle, and minimizing stressors at work and at home.”

We all know that’s easier said than done.

 

There’s an academic calendar taped to the closet beside my bed. Small, purple text promoting free breakfasts and lunches were obscured with lifeless black marker for the more pressing agendas and deadlines. The poster looms over my bed like an academic guillotine. I sometimes stare at it emptily, as though it marks my impending execution.

 

I initially saw the humorous irony in the situation. After several jobless months at home, I attended a fortnight of classes on campus before being sent back to my living room floor desk. Now, I scoff when I recall my optimism at the start of remote learning. “It’s going to be just like last year, except at home!”, I told myself. Empty promises of “it’ll all be over soon” created a nice mirage at the ever-extending tunnel, and “I miss you” wasn’t as depressing.

 

If there’s something history didn’t teach us about quarantine… it’s how motivation can spiral downward at an exponential rate.

 

I’ve made such disgusting mistakes in remote learning. The first was setting an impossible standard, that every spare minute should be spent studying and completing assignments. This snowballed into an unhealthy mindset, and caused me more grief than productivity in the future. Then, I started to feel guilty I was achieving less in my days to fend off burnout. Applying for extensions felt like I was telling my teachers I was an inept student. Last week, I experienced an overwhelming dread I had never felt before. Fear stiffened my body as I hastily worked to submit an assignment three minutes before its midnight deadline, already extended by a week. Even though I can reflect on it now in retrospect, I still feel like saying to myself, “You deserved that, you’re so lazy.” The cherry on top is how often I’ve compared myself to me a year ago, studying in a library with a friend, after a free lunch with a crowd of other students. Because that’s totally fair, you idiot.

Touch… deprivation.

In The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate (1992), Gary Chapman describes exactly that. I’d say the most influential one is physical touch, because being able to hold hands, cuddle, kiss and be intimate are typically important parts of relationships. Additionally, neurologist Dr Katalin Gothard explains that “Social touch stimulates the release of opioids and oxytocin in the brain”, the effect of which is similar to taking opioid drugs, which make you feel happy. So many of us, from the time I’m writing this, are experiencing withdrawal symptoms from a drug called physical affection. You can imagine how much harder this might feel for couples.

 

There seems to be a widespread attitude that long-distance relationships don’t work, are too hard and ultimately not worth it. I have a boyfriend, N, who lives up in Queensland, and we’ve received much sympathy and astoundment from local couples. I personally perceive a twinge of superiority from them, “Thank God I’m not them”. It’s especially clear when they say, “I couldn’t do that”.

 

Look who’s laughing now.

 

All of a sudden, many local couples have turned long-distance. Being in one myself, I understand how vital effective communication is. It’s so obvious which couples have spent so much physical time together and don’t know how to communicate when literally left to their own devices. There’s been a rise in adult store sales, likely from these couples trying to simulate what sex they can over a video call. Ugh, the amount of anonymous people online seeking advice on what to do after they’ve gotten bored of watching Netflix, playing video games, and cybersex... ever thought of sending care packages or voice-acting comics online together? What is more gross however are the people attempting to exploit the “intimate partner” rule to hook up on apps like Tinder.

 

Ah, but, I can’t really talk as if I’ve got the full moral high ground, because I grew desperate for physical intimacy too. Instead of struggling with my final semester one assessments, I spent more time messaging N and a close male friend-turned-crush G (with N’s knowledge). Come June, G and I are desperate to see each other. He offered to meet up during Victoria’s lowest transmission rate.

 

We went out on June 3rd. The nationwide lockdown was over, but social distancing guidelines remained in place. We met at Melbourne Central, and my self-control almost instantly collapsed. A hot, flustered wave rushed through my body as he drew dangerously close, expecting a hug. I reluctantly stood my ground.

 

We stepped into Coles to buy some dental floss. The narrow aisles and need to distance from others kept him right on my heels, so tantalisingly close. My body outright hungered for his touch, skin tingling as it demanded the affection it had been craving from someone of the opposite sex.

 

We left and rode the escalators up to Milligram. But the stationery store was closed. As we decided on our next destination, I noticed there were few people around. My body leapt at the opportunity for a hug, and he accepted.

 

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. Normally I satisfied any cravings for the intimate touch I was lacking in my relationships through interactions with friends, but I had none of that. G wasn’t simply a replacement, and he wasn’t primarily into women anyway. It was manipulative of me to vicariously use him to feel physically loved.

 

But the moment we embraced, his warm hug the perfect pressure, my walls broke down. All my body could do was demand for more. Squeezing him provided only temporary relief. And then, we let go.

Envy. And loneliness… together.

When our social needs aren’t met by our current relationships, if any exist, humans experience a suffocating emptiness called loneliness. It’s important to note that it doesn’t only occur when one is alone, it can even happen when amongst others. It’s also rather common, affecting 1 in 3 adults. Thanks to COVID-19, research has seen this number jump to at least 1 in 2 (footnote 1) (footnote 2).

 

1 in 2. That’s you and me.

 

Unfulfilled needs in general can lead to irrational or desperate behaviour. Sleep deprivation can make one irritable, anxious, fatigued and unable to concentrate, for instance. So what occurs when an emotional need is combined with envy?

 

In her book Abused, Confused, & Misused Words (2007), Mary Embree defines envy as discontent or desire for another person’s advantages or possessions. It’s generally used interchangeably with jealousy, but they’re distinct because you feel jealous when someone has or threatens to have something you feel you rightly deserve, like a partner.

 

How I felt that June outing… I’m not saying it was right, but thanks to this pandemic, I’m not entirely my normal self.

 

In May, my younger sister, L, was able to return to high school for face-to-face learning. After her school days, she would usually go on walks to see her boyfriend. While I was glad for the opportunity to spend some “quality time” alone, I soon got envious. N lives up in Queensland, and we only get to see eachother once a year, in December. While this normally wouldn’t be a problem, remember; my coping methods became useless in lockdown.

 

In lockdown, I had very little. I don’t hug my father any more, and L dislikes them from me. The only person I could embrace was my mother. But gradually, even her cuddles felt like nothing.

 

I needed tension, excitement, in my life. Playful brushes. Cheeky nudges. Teasing smiles.

 

The main attraction for my day out with G was Club X, an adult store. Neither of us had ever entered one before, but with the support of a friend, we were brave enough to enter. 

 

What a sight it was. G aptly described it as “stepping into a real-life Pornhub”.

 

Despite its nature, the place was clean, welcoming, and cheesy love songs played. Silicone dildos of different colours, girths and sizes adorned the walls. Silly paraphernalia were displayed in shelves in the middle of the store. We gazed wide-eyed at a glass bong. To our amusement, there was an incredibly limited DVD section, barely about 15 overall. What I called the “screams of the damned” flowed through from behind a door, the sign above it reading “Uncensored cybersex”. We’d sometimes whip our heads in its direction, surprised by particularly loud moans.

 

As we browsed the shelves, I snuck glances at G, feeling a heat begin to pool in my lower body. I stiffened as we examined the starter BDSM kits, remarking on the fluffy handcuffs and blindfolds.

For the first time that day, a sinful image flashed across my mind’s eye. And then another. And another.

 

“Hey um, are you excited? In any way?” I asked. I didn’t notice the nervous hint in his eyes, behind his calm smile.

 

“No. Are you?”

 

“Haha, no no no, I was just asking!” He didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

 

The sexual heat wore down as we left the store, but my infatuation didn’t. During the rest of our journey through the CBD, we stopped at other, more mundane shops such as Lush and Chemist Warehouse. In Dymocks, I made him try on a blue puppy apron and snapped away. I secretly hoped we looked like a couple from a distance. I continued to playfully flirt with him the whole day. Any guilt I had was squashed by my happiness and eagerness to do more, say more, and touch more. I later prompted him to put his hot lunch in with mine in a paper bag, to keep them warm. He obliged, then tried to take it from me, but I held it away. I said he needed to hold my hand first. He did, but I held it away again. He gave me an exasperated smile, but didn’t let go.

 

I jeopardised the day when I attempted to overstep my boundaries. At the end of our day, we wound up in Flagstaff Gardens. We sat on a wooden bench, arms wrapped around each other, free hands clasped in the middle. We fended off the cold, and tried to ignore the 3pm deadline we were overriding. I had asked to kiss him. After twice hesitating, I had mustered up enough courage when he suddenly pleaded,

 

“Please don’t kiss me.”

 

He didn’t say it out of disgust, because he said moments later that he felt some kind of attraction towards me, but he was much too supportive of my relationship. Even though N had privately allowed me a small peck in the first place, all I could do was say “O-Okay, I understand,” and bashfully change the topic.

 

Ashamed, I hesitated to touch him as we entered the nearby station. His train arrived first. We exchanged a final embrace, but as I hurriedly pulled away, his hands lingered on my arms, trailing down them like a lover would.

 

He didn’t want to let go.

 

And for a moment, I didn’t want him to either.

Hope? Or Despair?

I had planned to meet G and my other friends following my assessments, but the transmission rate began to grow. On June 30th, my suburb was among the 10 that went into lockdown. On July 9th, the rest of Metropolitan Melbourne and Mitchell Shire joined us. Come August 2nd, a state of disaster was declared in Victoria. And finally, this week, on August 25th, Premier Daniel Andrews announced that there would be legislation to extend the state of emergency in Victoria.

 

I personally view deadlines like a hurdle I’ll eventually have to jump over. Ready or not, a stone wall is slowly pushing me towards it. I have an irrational fear that time will stop and I’ll be trapped forever within that hellish period, like an exam. But once it’s over, whether you did it successfully or not, you feel relieved that it is.

 

The worst thing is when deadlines continue to get extended. No end in sight.

 

In trying times like these… I could use a hug. And I suppose an artificial one will have to do.

 

Do me a favour. Bring the book up to your chest now - in tablet, laptop, whatever form - and hug it. Maybe you’re reading this in lockdown. Or maybe you’re reaching this several years after the fact. I’m talking to you like a hermit who hasn’t seen civilisation in so long. A one way connection. At the very least, squeeze it. Savour this moment of artificial affection.

 

Let’s do it for real next time.

 

Footnotes:

1. Swinburne University’s yet to be published study surveyed 2,666 people from around the world for their first wave, and found that 1 in 2 Australians report feeling more lonely since COVID-19.

2.  Associate Professor Jilly Newby at the Black Dog Institute found that over 50% of people reported feeling lonely during the pandemic out of 5,070 participants.