A year ago I wrote a post about how emotionally draining 2019 had been.
If only I had known then what was coming in 2020… I would surely have cried some more, and not quite believed the virus-ridden-science-fiction-dystopia-pseudo-police-state that we now live in.
My job in 2019 was so stressful that, actually, furlough was a blessing in disguise. It was the emergency exit from work that I had desperately needed.
I yanked on that metaphorical parachute and gracefully glided down to earth, rather than crashing and burning as I otherwise would surely have done.
Furlough did eventually end, of course, and I had to go back to work in September. It was strange to be back in the classrooms, armed with nothing but an optional face mask, visor and gallons of hand sanitizer.
I did not feel as safe as I wanted, and showered everyday after work to wash away my anxiety and to reduce the risk of infecting my family.
There was light at the end of the tunnel, though.
I started a new job after the Christmas break, which coincided with the new lockdown.
I’m now working at home, supporting students online with their work.
So even though it feels like the country is falling apart, I am in a happier place with a less stressful job, my children are still able to attend school, and we are healthy.
2020 was the strangest, scariest year of my life, and although we are not out of the woods yet, there is the glimmer of hope that this vaccine might save our lives and eventually revitalise and restore society to something that more closely resembles ‘normal’ life.