A definite need to decompress.

Phew, my husband has at last tested negative for Covid-19. What a relief! I have been so worried about him this past week. It is the hardest thing in the world to see someone you love, poorly, especially with this virus. It is indiscriminate and you just never know how your body will react to it. I know my anxiety got to him even though I was trying to keep it under wraps.

We have discussed how, weirdly, this was a 'good time' for him to get it. Not that anyone wants to get it but if he had to get it, now was the best time. He had been away to meet his first grandchild which was a wonderful experience and on his return, he had not planned much work for this week. I agreed. It was probably a good time for me too. What I meant by that is, if he had got this when the pandemic first swept around the world, I do not think I would have been able to cope as well as I have done now.

In March 2020, a lot of 'stuff' had come up for me about not feeling safe in or out of my home. Similarly to this time, my husband had been the other side of the globe attending a family wedding and it was hit and miss whether he would make it home on the last plane to leave the country. That caused a high level of anxiety within me. He managed and we decided as he had been travelling that he would quarantine for ten days in the back bedroom. Even so, that caused me to feel unsafe in my own home. I had not felt that way for many a year. Yes, my dad is still abusive towards me but it is emotional abuse not physical abuse. So I have not feared for my life recently like I did as a child.

Feeling unsafe away from home was caused by the lack of knowledge about this virus, particularly at the beginning of the pandemic. People started acting peculiarly. They would see you coming towards them and jump out of the way as if you were a maniac on the loose. I observe people all of the time. It has always been a survival mechanism for me. I realised that others' anxiety was adding to my own.

I was also struggling with the need to wear masks. It still is really hard for me but I have made myself do it. Most days, I can manage for up to an hour before it all gets too much for me. Wearing a mask myself and also seeing others wearing masks, triggers emotions and traumatic memories of a serious assault many years ago. It brings it all back. The terror, the shock and especially the fear of not being able to breathe. And if I breathe in and the mask gets sucked into my mouth a bit, well then I lose the plot completely. Friends suggested I asked for an exemption but I did not want to have to keep on explaining the reasons why I do not wish to wear a mask as that would also be triggering for me.

I really had not felt this unsafe since I was a child. And that messed me up. I knew I needed therapy to help me unravel all my anxiety and stress. I had discussed these issues in previous therapeutic interventions but this time seemed different. These past fearful lived experiences were coming back to haunt me daily.

The most dominant issue that caused me to feel unsafe outside my home when I was growing up was the fact that my family were under intense scrutiny 24-7. This occurred as my parents and their church were fiercely against apartheid. The church was multiracial with a black African president. The South African government obviously detested the church's policies and tried with all their might to prevent and quash any anti-apartheid gatherings or uprisings.

My parents and many of the church's clergy who fought the government's racist abuse of power were hounded by the government's security police. My dad, being British, caused them even more consternation. Thus, I was born into a world of scrutiny. The first time I realised there was always a man sitting outside our house, I was four years old. I can still 'see' the large balding man in the big white Chevy watching our house. He was a security police officer whose job it was to observe and follow my dad. Of course, I did not understand the full gravity of the situation. My Mum was one step ahead of me and knew I would notice him and ask questions. So she made up some story about his wife visiting our neighbours. I duly checked with the neighbours and as my Mum had already primed them, their story held steadfast.

That was the start of my childhood career as a serial security police spotter - whether they were parked outside our house or following us while my parents were driving. I think I kept an eye on them as I was terrified of them really. My Mum had begun teaching me what I needed to know and do to keep my parents safe from these wicked men with their wicked beliefs.

Who would have thought that more than fifty years later those feelings of fear and having no control would once again be brought to the fore by a pandemic.

Therapy did help. I unpacked and processed a number of issues and it helped me let go of a catalogue of fearful images stored in the dark recesses of my mind . But I am still a work in progress. When it all becomes overwhelming, I have to stop and take a few deep breaths before I can continue my day. But I will get through it. We all will. In our own ways.