
‘Hey! How are you holding up?’ I’ve not said those words aloud in a while. It’s probably been a month since I saw anyone. Feels weird…
A week before the official lock-down in Nigeria, I was already at home, away from people. It was a decision I had made just to be cautious. So I had to stop going to the studio, all my plans were put on hold. Then the official lock-down was announced; we were given two weeks. I smirked at the overly optimistic decision. But when the lock-down was extended, I was sad, but staid. Now, almost a month later, from what feels like the clear blue sky, I feel shaken. I miss dance. I miss being in the studio, training. I miss being able to hug, touch and embrace my dance partners. Crazy to think that in contemporary dance, when dancing with a partner, you must feel each other’s bodies and energies in order to create a masterpiece. I miss all that…
As I write this, I feel the need to point out how privileged I am to even have this yearning. To have something that I’m passionate about that I feel heartbroken to have it ripped from my hands. This, in itself, is evidence of my overwhelming privilege. I am thankful for my family, my health and my friends.
But tonight, I let myself feel sad, not because of because of lack of hope, (my hope still remains unshaken, on Jesus), but I let myself feel sad because of all the things I took for granted. Going out, meeting friends, travelling, even endless hours in the studio that I always dreaded.
However, I feel guilty for feeling sad because I find myself writing sad thoughts at a time when other people’s struggle seem far more grave than mine. I feel I don’t deserve to feel sad at a time like this. So I just focus on improvement and try not to feel anything.
Again, I ask? How are you holding up?
I J pops, popping pops now that you asked, I just want the period to end
same here boo