Many of us are worried: not just about whether we might catch Covid-19 and how a possible economic meltdown might affect our lives, but whether we could survive a fortnight — or longer — trapped at home with our loved ones.
After having a child together, things got so bad between me and my partner — sleep deprived, finally forced to co-habit and both working from home — I started seeing a family therapist. Alone. One evening, our daughter was asleep and the television was on. P came up from the basement where he’d been working on a mind-numbing report. The programme caught his attention just as I was inquiring whether he’d mind if I had a bath before we watched an episode of Better Call Saul?
P snarled at me to shush. An hour later, we were still shouting at each other. Amazingly, our daughter Sadie slept through the yelling match. P made up a bed in the cold garage. I wanted to lock him in there. Actually, for a few minutes, I did, and had visions of his starved corpse being discovered by future occupants of our home.
A parent’s priority should be making their children feel safe and secure, but it’s hard to keep calm in the midst of such tremendous anxiety and uncertainty. I’m even tenser than usual and have been quite snappy. Last night, Sadie woke up with a nightmare: she dreamt that she had coronavirus and had to have her face and leg cut off. One of her classmates told me this week that his house was going to be knocked down. That’s what ‘lockdown’ sounds like to a seven-year-old. No one knows when this coronavirus outbreak will pass, but as tempers get frayed, the fault lines of our most intimate relationships will be tested to their limits.
“I predict parents everywhere are about to relinquish control of their kids’ screen time.”
I usually prepare for school holidays with military precision to keep Sadie’s boredom at bay and mitigate disruption so that either me or my partner can keep working, but if we have to self-isolate or if schools close (which seems inevitable despite government pronouncements to the contrary), our house could turn into a pressure cooker.
People less practised at working from home might find it tough to separate domestic matters from professional ones. If you’re cooped up in a small flat, or even in a big one, a quiet space can be difficult to defend, especially with kids at home without their usual routine. I predict parents everywhere are about to relinquish control of their kids’ screen time.
In the coming weeks, we not only need to recognise the importance of washing our hands at every opportunity. We also have to learn how to prevent rows from escalating, and to apologise for our part in them. Saying sorry is complicated. If you capitulate too readily, too often, you run the risk of allowing your partner to dominate. Apologies need to be made with genuine intention, and the other person has to be ready to receive it. Hopefully, they can then own up to their part in the quarrel too. In our home, heading off an escalation with a loving gesture, such as offering to make a cup of tea, often does the trick.
Today we discussed, only half-jokingly, whether we should put our wills on the fridge door in the event that we both die. The important thing is trying to keep a sense of humour.
Other couples might argue about childcare or who cleans up. We have the same fight over and over again: I tell P to stop shouting and he tells me that I’m nagging. Psychoanalyst Caroline Garland explains that couples project onto each other the nastier parts of themselves. “You may want to shout sometimes but you insist P’s the shouter. He may want to nag sometimes but sees you as the nagger.” Couples can get locked into a cycle of blame, reproach and grievance, with each party saying it’s the other one’s fault.
If someone engages us passionately, they will engage our love, but at times they will also engage our hate and aggression. The opposite of love is indifference. Healthy, loving couples quarrel and get over it quickly.
But the coronavirus has added a layer of alarm to normal proceedings.
What will happen if P or I become ill? How will we keep Sadie amused? And if she gets sick too, who will look after who? Will we take it in turns to stagger to the kitchen to make hot lemon and honey drinks? And — God forbid — what if my ageing mum gets sick? These are the questions that matter the most. This virus, in fact, could be an opportunity to show each other how much we care.
Divorce lawyers might be anticipating a bumper season ahead, and just like Christmas and Valentine’s Day, there’s some seasonal inevitability here. But there’s also never been a better time to keep irritability in check and to remember the importance of being kind.