The Shadow by Janine

​Janine is a scholar and writer in Aotearoa New Zealand, who has always been fascinated by the stories of others and builds this passion into her research and writing. During lockdowns, she lives in her family bubble with a pack of furry babies and gets creative. She’s an avid crafter who loves trying anything new (at least once!).
 
There is an ominous shadow inside our gilded Covid cage. I call him Ed. He’s growing bold again.
I’m prone to dramatic overtures, as my friends will confess, but I’m not being dramatic in this moment. Neither about the cage, nor about Ed. Our little bubble of three joined lockdown with dogged determination last Tuesday.We’ve learnt from the past not to panic buy, that the shops stay open for at least one of us to escape for a moment each week, and we all (pups included) relish a daily neighbourhood walk, sometimes two.

Our bubble wholeheartedly supports the public health initiative to stay home. We can find happiness hiding away from (or protecting others from?) the tyranny of the Delta strain. But making the close contact list is a whole new Covid experience. Locked. Down. Inside our gilded cage. With Ed. It’s a comfortable cage, a privileged one, filled with resources to see us through. But a locked cage nonetheless. For the most part we have coped remarkably well. I’ve certainly never been happier to drive for my Covid test and see the world once more even when its masked or observed from my mobile bubble.

But you see, there’s Ed.

Over years and tears we have wrestled with Ed in our home. He arrived in our daughter’s back pocket quietly one dark night. To my shame and regret, I didn’t even notice him living with us until much later. She was feeding her shadow quietly in the corners, keeping him hidden away from us by her own despair and inner confusion. I only noticed Ed when I stumbled into her room unannounced one night and saw the ravages of Ed’s appetite. You see, to feed Ed, for him to grow, she must get smaller, her body physically shrinks, her light diminishes.
 
Then we fought. And we fought hard. I begged Ed to leave her alone, I begged her to kick him out. And we watched her shrink, fading smaller and smaller, while Ed the shadow grew. The light in our home was slowly being overtaken by his arrogant confidence that he was stronger than her, bigger than all of us. But Ed doesn’t know my girl the way I do. On the ropes, in the final round, she started fighting back. We consider ourselves deeply blessed that we could access and find a medical team, including an eating disorder specialist who helped her finally confront Ed, see him for what he is. It’s not a matter of if, they said, but when he wins then his shadow will eclipse the last corner of your light.

Then she fought. And she fought hard. Years later, she exists in a healthier state. I give thanks every day that she is thriving in a carefully managed state of recovering. For type As like ourselves the idea of recovering as a perpetual state, rather than recovered as a completed task has been a lot to process. It’s a journey, of mental, physical and emotional agility. Ed has been contained in a corner, kept in his place for the most part, although occasionally he gets a little cocky and tries to push the limits again.
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And then Covid came along and Ed’s arrogance grew alarmingly. I could see at the announcement of our first ever lockdown how she panicked. I was even more panicked when I saw her reach out, back towards him. No, I screamed on the inside, he’s not your comfort, don’t give him room to grow! It was a daily challenge, and we were constantly checking on Ed to make sure she was still able to keep him at bay, not letting his shadow overwhelm her again.

This past week of lockdown has been different. Locked in self-isolation, no one leaving the house, the vital outdoors, the fresh sunlight that we need to restrain Ed was harder to manage. All her coping strategies were severely limited, her anxieties heightened. Ed was growing bolder. A late night ping from a text and a negative result equals a positive outcome. A light switches on, Ed slinks back into place. Yet never fully evicted. So we sit inside our gilded cage as lockdown marches on, keeping a close eye on our ominous shadow. She’s won this round. But I worry, with a mother’s broken heart, about all the other shadows being fought or succumbed to all around our motu right now.  

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