Hate to See You Go, Love to Watch You Leave
Last week was a big week for my home town. On the same day, the Ottawa Senators solidified a non-garbage team for next year, Alex Trebek made his allegiances known, and I strutted out of the Via Rail station in a baby pink mask.
While I’m happy to be back, leaving Toronto was anxiety inducing. This is the longest Mark and I have been apart since February, and we’re only on day 4.
It seems crazy, but anyone who lives with a partner is in the same boat. I mean where can you go? For months we've been stuck together, and it's hard to say if this Thanksgiving week a part is healthy or scary. Likely it's a bit of both.
This Hand is My Hand, This Hand is Your Hand
As (presumably) well-adjusted adults, a week apart shouldn’t be an issue. Mark’s job usually has him travelling for weeks at a time, and we didn’t spend much time together during work days anyway. From happy hour drinks to hobbyist clubs to networking events, neither of us were what I would call homebodies. We could always count on at least 1-2 nights of solitude respectively, not including the random weekend getaways and vacations we went on independently.
In short, we lived our own lives
Now though, it’s often hard to see any distinction between my life and his. In lockdown your partner quickly becomes your person for everything. Mark is my coworker, my friend, that annoying guy I see during my commute, my roommate, etc..
As two extroverts, it’s easy to become enwrapped in each other, and each minute of solitude is important. It took months to figure out how best to co-exist, and we work extremely hard to give ourselves alone time
Recently we’ve been revelling in looser restrictions. I never thought I would be so grateful for the long walk to the gym. Now I have real things to share when I get home. For instance, the woman at the gym who INSISTS on shrieking for every set.
Alas, as of Saturday a lot of our coping methods have been taken away.
Independent activities are often the easiest way to maintain individuality in relationships. With those gone, it’s a slippery slope to losing your sense of self. Not only is that impactful to your own metal health, but it can be problematic for relationships too.
One of my favourite podcasters often describes couples as candles. Everyone has their own burning wick. As your wax melts, it creates a unique pattern. The trick is to find someone at the right time that fits into your wax shape. If you buddy-up too early or too intensely, you melt together into a homogenous blob. If you wait too long, it’s almost impossible for someone to fit into your defined shape.
I love that analogy for many reasons, but I find it extremely relevant in COVID. If you aren’t allowed to move those candles apart, how do you prevent yourself from fusing into one being? Without normal activities to keep us busy, sometimes it feels like Mark and I are building a life in a vacuum. A weird version of a desert island where we create our own rules, patterns, and secret languages. We sing to our pet rabbit every morning, and that’s become a ritual.
I have to say, it’s uncomfortable losing that routine, even for a few days.
In this environment, it’s pretty obvious to see how co-dependant tendencies would flourish. If you’re living a partner with different attachment styles, for example, this could be a brutal scenario. Inconsistent levels of affection can simulate addiction where one person gets “intermittent hits of dopamine”
Dose me up.
It sounds fun, except for the withdrawal. Even stable couples are poised for a rude awakening as we get back to whatever normal looks like. You can always have too much of good thing.
Skunk in Love
Lock it Down
Though the lockdown was a struggle, it was also novel. Mark and I felt like we were on a vacation from real life. A permanent sleepover with movies, comfort food, and snuggle breaks in the middle of the day. For us the spring was an experience we’ll likely never be able to have again - not until retirement anyway - but we’re also the lucky ones.
We actually like each other.
In the spring there was an overarching fear to the lockdown. No one really knew what to expect. As such, emerging relationships jumped on a fast track. Turns out that the dreaded DTR relationship comes early during an apocalypse. The panic and urgency of COVID forced the hand of many new couples: do we quarantine together, or will I see you in 2022?
We had a friend move in with a new girl after 2 months of dating. For them it's been a dream, but image being stuck with Pépé Le Pew... SO damn needy. 2 months in, though, you probably don't know what you're signing up for. Locking it down that early is a gamble, but is it that much crazier than doing quarantine alone?
For those that did stick together, this whole year has been like living in a pressure cooker. Ask any couple. It’s a sink or swim environment, because there’s nothing to distract from the relationship. It’s pretty glaring what is and isn’t working when you eliminate all the surrounding noise.
And what’s a couple to do if it's not working? Moving just got a whole lot harder, dating is near impossible, and the external stress is enough as it is. If you had excuses not to break up before, you definitely do now.
Home Bodies
^That’s a pun, it’s just really dark.
In the last few days there’s been a deep sense of regression as restrictions get tighter. We had a small glimmer of freedom in the summer, and the anxiety of getting trapped again is building. It may feel like getting a prison sentence to go back inside, but some victims have been living with their captors this whole time. Amid the pandemic, there is also a women’s and children’s safety crisis.
While codependency is a concern for some partners, abuse is a much more dangerous outcome of lockdown. Alas, a huge catalyst for domestic abuse is economic and financial strain. In fact, it’s been reported that a 1 percent increase in the unemployment rate can correlate to a 12 percent increase in physical abuse.
Moreover, violence also increases whenever families spend extended periods of time together. Holidays, for example, are often rife with hotline calls (Happy Thanksgiving, btw). Mix together the stress of a global pandemic and the inability to get away from family, and you have the perfect storm for an uptick in abuse worldwide. And not just from abusers with a history of violence. COVID has created conditions to breed all kinds of new offenders.
Of course, abuse isn’t always physical. Abusers commonly employ surveillance, behavioural restrictions, food limitations, financial control, and isolation as tactics to wield power. All of which are more easily achieved in lockdown where victims aren't able to get any distance.
Even worse, the likelihood of escalating violence only increases the longer we’re confined. Abusers who murder their partners often do so after personal crises like losing jobs or huge amounts of money. The more victims are stuck at home, the greater the chance is that they never make it out.
For those stuck in abusive relationships, the opportunities for help are also bleak. Family and friend networks have been shattered with the pandemic, time away from the abuser is limited, and financial dependency is way more common. How can you leave if you’re supported by your partner? What other job are you going to be able to find? When everything shuts down, so do support systems. Leaving just became way more difficult, and it was already next to impossible.
For children, the hardest part is spotting abuse. Children stuck at home no longer have teachers, guidance counsellors, or doctors who may notice signs of physical or emotional stress. That said efforts are being made to help the vulnerable. For example, San Fran pushed forward a measure that allows victims to text 911 instead of call. This is a huge step in being able to seek help discreetly, presuming you’re able to access a phone.
Despite how awful this time in history is for victims, there is hope that service providers will update their methods to help more people in the future. The Atlantic poses that "we might see a techier crop of social workers, family attorneys, and advocates” emerging from lockdowns. Just like grandma learnt Skype to stay in touch, hopefully support systems can find ways to implement tech in their abuse response efforts.
Alas, there isn't much other choice.
Tell Me Something Good
Girl, I wish I could.
In full transparency, I almost cried when I left my apartment on Wednesday. It feels insane as someone who’s always identified as self-sufficient, but separation anxiety was real.
Like many of you I am also exhausted. I have no more energy for bad news and anxiety. The burnout I’m feeling isn’t the “zoomed-out” work fatigue my HR team keeps spouting about. It’s much more existential than that: I’m tired for my entire gender.
I’m tired for a good portion of the world too.
With every story there’s a new reason to feel dread or loose a ray of my perma-optimism sunshine. We lost RBG, who stood up for us in spaces we can’t access. Catcalling has gotten worse, so I feel threatened everywhere. The Shecession is increasing the wage gap. Abuse is rampant, though there aren't many obvious ways to help. And to top it all off, the 2 options for president are just despicably out of touch (I miss Hillary more than I miss Mark).
It feels like a constant attack on everything I identify with and as, and it's wearing me down. So maybe, just maybe, I’ve leaned a little extra on my partner. And maybe, by extension, the separation is more challenging because I’m missing my anchor. Is that so wrong? I’m asking because I don’t know. Adjusting to a normal world after this is a big question mark.
Do you think my job will let me bring in an Emotional Support Mark? It’s worth an ask.
And here I am compounding the negativity. There’s only so many jokes I can pepper into an article on abuse. I don’t want to beat a dead horse.
Okay that one made me cringe too.
But you get the point. What I want to be a fun piece in your inbox has devolved into my weekly feminist rally cry. Truthfully I love doing it - it’s cathartic - but I don’t want to add to the general angst we’re all feeling. Next week I promise I’ll write about something fun. Maybe even something spooky. It is October after all.
At least I have someone great to come home to, no matter how attached we've become.
