Corona Virus, Panic and Toilet Paper

If you had predicted at the beginning of the year that we would have a shortage of toilet paper (after a wave of panic-buying), I reckon most of us would have laughed. We had more important things to worry about, such as the bushfires and related smoke, choking Australia. Yet, here we are. I recall that one of my most controversial posts on social media, had to do with punch bowls. Yes, you read that right. I saw a photo on Pinterest which detailed how an old punch bowl could be repurposed as a bird bath in your garden. Thinking it a brilliant idea, I shared it. There was outrage! I received quite a bit of feedback from people, defending their grandmother’s punch bowl, and stating that they still use them as intended. It was at a time when our society was going through upheaval and grief. People were unsettled, and had nowhere to reconcile their jarred emotions, and so they jumped on the punch bowl post. I thought about this event, and realised that the toilet paper panic really has nothing to do with loo paper. Rather, it’s emblematic of our fears, and need to control what is happening. We are at the mercy of this virus, just as we were the bushfires, but hell, at least we can control how many rolls of toilet paper we have.

That being said, I went into five supermarkets and three pharmacies in the last three days, looking for pasta, antibacterial wipes, hand sanitiser, toilet paper, tissues and other necessary items, and came home empty handed. I was hoping to purchase these things, not only for my household, but for friends who have a myriad of conditions that would see them become seriously ill if infected. There is the lady who has a port in her chest, through which immunoglobulin is administered regularly. There are friends undergoing chemotherapy, and friends over 60 years of age. There are those with asthma, and those with other health conditions. Some friends can’t get out to the supermarket or chemist. Many of these items can’t be ordered through online shopping , as they are in limited supply or sold out completely.

I must admit, I was angered when I saw first-hand, the empty shelves, and thought of the people who’d bought more than they’d require for the next month. It means others miss out; usually those who are in desperate need. I had relatives who lived through rationing during WW2, and they didn’t hoard. Rather, they were issued a certain amount via their corner shop, and made do. They even ensured there was enough to give visitors to their home’s. I feel for the workers in our supermarkets, especially after hearing terrible stories of the verbal abuse they’d suffered. Some have had things clocked at their heads, after shoppers became enraged by the shortages.

Eternal vigilance is the price we pay for freedom, and also our health. We can all do our bit during this crisis. Check in on your elderly neighbours, or friends with health conditions. Reach out and see what they need at this time. Donate your extra cans and toiletry items to local charities and refuges. Ensure that nobody is left behind.

I met a medical receptionist in my neighbourhood, and she told me that she and the doctor she works for, are issuing patients in need with toilet rolls, hand sanitiser and antibacterial wipes from their stock. Others have reached out to check in on loved ones and reassure their friends who are anxious. Parcels have been left at front doors, and people have shopped for the vulnerable in their community.

This period of crisis shall pass, as all challenging times are want to do, but the kindness we exhibit, and the dignity of which we hold ourselves, shall be remembered always.

The Consolation of Shopping

I once knew an elderly gent whose house was filled with clutter. The living room had no available seats, and he had given up using his mahogany dining table. There was no room for cutlery, let alone plates. I have seen shipping containers filled with items which still had their tags attached, never used. I have seen sheds built in yards to house the surplus of a person’s shopping addiction. I have come to understand the motive behind chaotic shopping patterns.

The $100 shoes that were on sale, in a style they would never wear, in a size that doesn’t fit, represents the love they never received. It is also symbolic of ill-fitting relationships.

The designer dress is symbolic of needing a lift after a failed attempt on IVF. Having the news broken over the phone, seeing prams and pregnant women everywhere is enough to drive a woman into the closest store.

The new furniture, smart TV and rugs represent the sinking feeling that something is not quite right within a cultivated life.

The bookshelves crammed with ornaments is symbolic of the urge to hold onto the past and it’s people, even though it is time to let go.

The broken pots and detritus in the garden is symbolic of a life out of control. They looked so inviting at the garden centre! You had grand plans to make an entertaining area in the yard, but realised that everyone in your family flits in and out, and the conversations you crave aren’t to be had. Those items symbolise abandoned dreams. It is akin to telling yourself that you aren’t worth the effort and time, nor is it worth doing for your sole enjoyment.

Perhaps, people that are content in life don’t shop excessively. The items that they buy are needed, and valued. They use everything that they buy, and don’t purchase gifts to win favour. A life that is in balance doesn’t swing like a pendulum.

The endorphin kick one feels at the shops is as forgotten as the identical shorts and shirts at the back of the wardrobe once home. The sinking feeling when one surveys the damage held on receipts is not worth the fleeting rush to the brain’s reward centres.

This stuff can’t make up for the cruelty inflicted on you. It is no substitute for inclusion, nor love. It can’t make pain disappear, or a longed-for child appear. It won’t make people love you more, and it can’t vanquish illness.

I have had the sad task of clearing out several homes of friends when they died. I have seen their bedrooms crammed with makeup and skincare, shoes and clothes, and gifts hidden away in case they are needed one day. Everything still had the prices attached. I have seen beds used as repositories for shopping bags, thrown into the room as though they were a live stick of dynamite, ready to explode. I have felt desperately sad as I surveyed the magazines and kitchenware, piled high in living rooms. Not wanted nor needed, nor ever used. I have understood that such scenes have been their attempt to stockpile in case they meet with a cruel winter. It happened once, and it can happen again. This stuff is their insurance policy. Mindlessly purchased, they felt the lovely flutter in their tummies, their brain beliving that this purchase will make their life better. Heck, it will make them better. It will make them care less that their husband is a philanderer, their family is a hot mess and that they are depressed. It will eradicate all of it. The shopping culture lies. It manipulates us, deliberately and often. It knows what it’s doing, down to the displays, the lighting, the music, the colours and scents. It knows how we think, the holes we try to fill and what we are trying to make up for.

Here’s how you can beat the horrid high and low during this Christmas season.

  • Make a budget and stick to it!
  • Make a list of those whom you want to buy for, and decide what you want to gift and how much you can spend beforehand.
  • Check in with yourself before leaving home. Buying stuff is no consolation for feeling lonely and sad. Make sure anything that you purchase is for the right reasons.
  • Eat before you leave home, and carry a water bottle. That horrendous disorientated feeling brought on by shopping centres is made worse by hunger and dehydration!
  • Check in any rewards points you have accrued throughout the year. These can be used for groceries or you can opt to donate them to a charity.
  • Declutter your home. The stuff that makes you depressed has to go. The clothes you have held onto but never worn, the kitchen gadgets in boxes and books you have yet to read, need to be donated or sold. No good comes from a home without sufficient room for energy to circulate.
  • Give experiences, whether that be movie tickets, a voucher to dinner in the New Year or babysitting services. Experiences last longer than stuff.
  • You have nothing to prove to anyone. You are enough, just as you are. Put down that item you can’t afford, and bake something for your friend instead.
  • Call your friends and organise catch-ups. Go on picnics or have a coffee together. People need you, not stuff.
  • Shop local! Support your local farmers markets and shops. These people are your neighbours and possibly your friends.

I remember in living colour, the sadness I felt as I surveyed dusty shelves piled high with items still in their original packets. The hope that this product would be a game-changer had long perished, and all that was left was a prison built of ┬ádiscarded aspirations for a better life. Sit with pain, befriend and understand it. Shopping won’t help what needs fixing. Self-love can.