Thinking of my plans that CO-VID has cancelled, I feel a bad kind of butterflies.

Today (07/05/20) would have marked the opening show of a site-specific, audience interactive that two of my beautiful friends and I were in creative development for prior to CO-VID. Whilst I'm grateful that I'm performing in an independent theatre companies virtual cabaret show tomorrow night on Zoom, my heart still feels heavy in mourning the loss of another show.

I'm sure I'm not the only one... Let me rephrase that. I know I'm not the only one who has lost something because of the corona virus pandemic, whether you had a dance eisteddfod coming up that you've been rehearsing for like crazy, a school gala concert, or an art show. It doesn't have to necessarily have to be a creative project that's been cancelled. It could be a soccer game, a trip overseas, a visit to your grandparents or your own birthday celebrations. There are a million other experiences and opportunities that could have been cancelled or 'postponed' for you and if you're one of these individuals that are feeling this kind of grief and loss, I want you to know that you're not alone.

I've labelled this feeling as a bad kind of butterflies. This is because when I start thinking of what could have been, butterflies burst into my stomach. But when I remember how what could have been is no longer happening, the butterflies stop fluttering and instead, start to spin around aimlessly in my stomach. Like they are trying to make a cocoon for themselves but they don't have enough silk. And these butterflies, they don't sleep. Not like us. They're always trying to keep us awake, to remind us of what we've lost. Sometimes, it's hard not to spiral when we think about those things and it's hard not to wish that this is all a bad dream that we can wake up out of.

How do we get rid of these bad kind of butterflies? I wish I had a straightforward answer, but I don't think there is one. All we can do is stay hopeful that we will be able to re-live the memories and the experiences that we've lost in another way, shape or form once our nation is no longer in lock-down. But staying hopeful and finding hope isn't an easy task. Not with all of this negativity, uncertainty and chaos going on in the world.

When I remember the cancellation of my shows and other events, I try to think of the things, people and routines in my life that I still have. I think of how lucky I am that I still have a job(s) to go to, that I'm able to create new routines and structures for myself, that I don't live alone and that I have access to social media so that I virtually can stay connected with those who are dearest to my life. I'm grateful that I'm a student and have study as form of distraction and an outlet to take me away from the everyday, especially if I'm learning about cultural capitol.

I always carry a journal with me at all times so that I can clear my head whenever I need to and I always have chocolate with me, for when I need some comfort. If I'm feeling nostalgic over the loss of my shows, then I flick through memories of past shows that I've performed, directed and/or written and the feelings of joy and love flood through my body. When I look at my weekly planner and see all the events, meetings and coffee dates that have been scribbled out, I normally check in with the friend(s) or colleagues that I would have experienced those with.

Like you all, I'm waiting for the day that I can live the experiences that I missed. I'm waiting for the day that I can catch up with my friends and family, be able to go to the cinema and have the luxury of being able to sit down at my local cafe and devour the moment. I'm waiting for the day I'm standing backstage, hearing the sound of the audience, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait for the stage manager to give me my cue to go on stage. Like all of you, I can't wait for this game of waiting to end and for our collective grief to be transformed into feelings of joy.