As the third wave of the virus grips the country by the balls, and while I continue to work at eliminating bad habits from my daily life, the casualties are adding up. 

Doing what you believe is right has its benefits, but it also has its pitfalls. I’m struggling to manage my emotions – with anger being at the top of the list – and I’m becoming more self-isolated than ever before. 

Since the beginning of the pandemic, my partner and I have taken the advice of the world’s leading health officials. 

• Recreational outings have been kept to a minimum;
• we stay away from crowds and social gatherings;
• we haven’t had a guest in our apartment in over a year; and
• we haven’t eaten out at a restaurant or been to a movie theatre.

It’s what’s best for our safety as well as those we come in contact with.

And before the trolls raise their hairy arms in dispute: yes, there’s research that states otherwise. But you can always find facts and skew them to fit your narrative. Religious zealots have been doing that for centuries. As have politicians. 

The problem is my behaviour is changing. 

And not entirely for the better. 

I’m becoming a hermit who is terrified of getting somebody sick. I’m less concerned about my health; I worry most about my partner with health issues putting her at risk and the abundance of seniors who live in our apartment building. 

If I passed along the virus to one of them and they ended up in critical condition, that’s on me – getting together with the boys for a beer isn’t worth the guilt I’d feel. 

Nor is it worth the pressure it could put on our healthcare system, or the potential of a senseless death. 

So aside from playing squash with the one other person in my bubble, I stay home. 

And I work. 

That’s the other downside – all I do is work; on my career and my blog. For the past 18 months, I’ve been laser focused on personal growth and professional development.

So much so, I’ve turned into a shitty friend, family member, and boyfriend. 

Everyday I become more and more disconnected to the people who have been a huge part of my life for so long. 

I’m losing touch with those who believed in my ability to achieve success. 

I’m separating myself from those responsible for lifting me up.

The blind eye of a self-awareness 

The more I work on myself and the more self-aware I become, the further I drift from what’s equally as important. The meaningful relationships I’ve built over the years are crumbling around me. 

I’m starting to wonder: 

1. Who will be left in my social circle after the pandemic finally comes to an end?
2. How many will I push away?
3. How many will lose patience with my inattentiveness? 
4. How will my social life change?
5. What other behavioural changes will I go through?  

I don’t know the answers to these questions. And frankly, I’m afraid of what they might be. 

That said, some things are out of my hands, and trying to control the uncontrollables is a futile exercise. The best I can do is be more aware of those affected by my lack of attention, and to do my best to find ways to show them I still care. 

Because I do – that’s why I’m revealing part of my soul in this blog post. 

If you’re reading this, thank you for sticking with me. I’m sorry for not being the person you once knew. 

I promise to do better moving forward. 

Thanks for reading, folks.

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