As the economy collapses, the Government vacillates and the grim data on Covid-19 deaths continues rolling in, we have all been heartened by stories of people looking out for each other. In communities pared down to their essentials under lockdown, something of real value has been unlocked.
But behind closed doors, where we might expect to find the lion’s share of our support, things may not be quite so benevolent. At least that’s the reality in my house. At different times, everyone is stressed, on edge, often critical and impatient. We’re lucky - there’s no violence, domestic or otherwise - but tempers are easily frayed, and although we come together on Thursday evenings to thank the NHS there’s precious little rousing applause for each other.
As a psychotherapist, I’m now working with my patients on zoom, while in another room my partner flits between paperwork at his desk and endless pre-recorded episodes of “University Challenge,” his favourite TV show since he was at school. I can hear him shouting out the answers, sighing, and singing along to Joni Mitchell (whose voice I can’t bear) - and talking to the dog. Simple things like the sound of the kettle clicking off and the toilet flushing have become irritations, and with no clear end in sight even the strongest relationships are being tested.
