Tiers Before Bedtime

I started by saying: it’ll be fine. Whatever happens, I’ll be okay. Either way.

Then we went into Tier 3. And I thought: okay, that’s the way it’s going to be. I’ll manage, it’ll be fine, in a way it’s a relief. The decision is made. Just a shame I can’t find anything nice to cook for Christmas dinner. But hey, it’ll be okay.

Then my family had different ideas, and they made a plan, so I could still go, still be with them, still see them all. And I thought: aww, they really care, they really love me, they don’t want me to be alone and miss out. Bless them. That’s the way it’s going to be.

Then we went into Tier 4 and the goalposts moved. And I thought, okay, so this is the way it is after all. I’ll deal with it.

Can I get round the rules by having a ‘support bubble’ that I have to travel 140 miles to be with? Or even 50 miles, if they’re in Tier 2? Can I travel out of the area? Do I want to be the person who goes from Tier 4 into Tier 2, even if I’m going there and back in a day? Can I justify that? Is a ‘support bubble’ equivalent to a household, when it’s not just around the corner? Do I break the rules on the basis that ‘they can’t check every house…’ as someone (no names) suggested to me? Wouldn’t that make me part of the problem? And if I stayed away, and needed the catsitter to come in, where would they stand? Even if they weren’t strictly breaking the rules, they’d know I was, and what would their position be?

Enough. I don’t want to break any rules, or take any risks, or put anyone else at risk.

I think perhaps, because I’ve had so many times in my life when I’ve been unhappy and not been able to share it with anybody, and had to carry on and appear ‘fine, okay’ when I deeply wasn’t, even my nearest and dearest don’t realise how used I am to having to deal with a degree of sadness and disappointment that makes Christmas on my own seem trivial by comparison. I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy being with my family on Christmas Day, but it won’t destroy me. I’m not saying I won’t have to shed a few tears, just as I did on my birthday – as I have done already several times in the last twenty four hours. But it will come and it will go, and it won’t be the worst thing that could happen, and even if – as I said the other day – it turns out to be my last Christmas, well, it won’t be greatest regret.

If you pin your hopes on one thing – a particular day, a particular person, a particular wish – you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of disappointment. Take it from someone who knows.