A f*&ked Easter

The following is my own non-edited, non-proof-read stream of consciousness about Easter...

I carrot believe it’s Easter, just like my brain still carrot fathom that there is a currently a law saying that I (and the rest of my family) cannot drive over to my grandparents’ house in Bribie Island for our traditional European Easter Sunday lunch. I can’t help my grandparents to hide all of the Easter eggs in their backyard for my little brother to find and I can only seem my little brother through facetime. This time last year, my little brother, former partner and myself were climbing on a playground, seeing if we could all fit down the slide at once and taking a bunch of cheesy selfies with the messenger filters on my phone. Afterwards, my former boyfriend and I when to one of his friends’ parties, in which we wore identical bad Christmas shirts and posed for photos under a flower wreath. The last time I went to a party or a mass gathering was over two months ago.

This time last year, I was working on three theatre productions, two of them being my original works. I had rehearsals nearly every night and if I didn’t have a rehearsal then I’d be having creative development meetings with my collaborators. Now, I’m still creating for my own personal practice and have set myself the creative goal of collaborating with a fellow artist weekly for a YouTube segment I’ve started called ‘Co-Vid Creativity’. I’m also creating for various independent companies weekly live streams and their upcoming shows which are now virtual. However, performing in your bedroom and from your bedroom for a virtual audience is nowhere near the same as performing on a stage. I haven’t been to my local theatre and laid on its stage (it’s very therapeutic) and sat in its auditorium in over a month. To me, that’s the most unfathomable thing of them all and something my brain still can't comprehend.

This time last year, I taught approximately eighty students who I would in contact with every Saturday morning. Now, I teach twenty students privately via Zoom and we give each other virtual hugs. This time last year, I was going to my tutorials at university and grabbing coffee with my friends. Now, I’m at studying from home and I’m nowhere near closer to reaching that free coffee.

This time last year, I was planning the itinerary for an overseas trip from my mother and I had in June. Now, I don’t know when our next overseas trip together will be.

This time last year, I had a partner in crime who hardly ever left my side. Now, I’m getting used to being single again, feeling even more alone in my alone time and trying to mend the cracks in my heart and the moths in my stomach.

This time last year, I was more mindful. Now, my brain is constantly egg-sausted, if not from spending all day working on my masters’ assignments that I had due last week or have due this week, then from thinking about the future; of all of the conspiracy theories out there and the ‘what happens next’.

This time last year, when I went to sleep I dreamed. Now, I mostly have nightmares.

This time last year I didn’t feel like I was living in an Orwellian world. I wasn’t trapped in my own home. I could go about our usual routine, go to work, go to rehearsals, see my friends and see my family. Now, I miss my freedom.