‘The Idea That My Support Bubble Could Be Taken Away From Me Sends A Feeling Of Panic Through My Chest’

‘Do you regret living by yourself?,’ it’s a question I’ve been asked a lot over the last year and it’s one I still don’t know quite how to answer. When I signed the contract on my rented flat two years ago I was excited - at 31 I’d finally moved away from shared houses, the instability of ever-changing housemates and from feeling like an eternal student.

But little did I know just how much time I would be spending here. Over the last year, due to the Covid-19 crisis, I’ve spent approximately seven months inside these walls, completely alone. The only small concession to this ground-hog day like existence? My support bubble, aka my sister.

In the first lockdown it took nearly four full months for support bubbles to be introduced - as many people like myself struggled to navigate a global pandemic in complete isolation from our family and friends, largely forgotten in a rhetoric which implied that the only people who live by themselves are elderly.

To say it was tough would be an understatement. Having no one there to rest their hand on your shoulder and ask if you’re ok. No one to laugh with, or to cook with, or to struggle with through the absurdity of it all - every day can begin to melt into one. So this week, as reports swirled that support bubbles could be axed - something Health Secretary Matt Hancock has denied for now - it’s key to understand just how important a lifeline they are to the 7.7million people living in single-person-households.

It’s incredibly difficult to describe what the experience of the last year has been like. On some days, every emotion has been heightened; I’ve felt angry, sad and scared but on others I’m completely numb to it all. I walk, I cook, I sleep, and I resign myself to the fact that it’s just how it is. It can feel - in all honesty - barely like an existence, and there are only so far my reserves of ‘focusing on the little things,’ can stretch.

Friends who also live alone have felt the same; one confided in me recently that struggling for work - and with friends busy trying to get through themselves - she’d gone three whole days without saying a word out loud to another person. At these times I have clung on to being able to see my sister - and occasionally work with people in real life - to get me through the endless days of nothing. The idea that could be taken away from me, or anyone else on their own, sends a feeling of panic through my chest.

Of course, there are no real ‘winners,’ - unless you’re a morally destitute Love Islander sunning yourself in Dubai. Things are difficult whether you’re trying to combine home-schooling and work, you’re struggling because of the economy, you’re trapped with a partner you long since fell out of love with, or you’re living in a house share with people you hate. But you can’t really comprehend what it’s like to have spent such a long time alone, unless you’ve actually lived through it. Support bubbles are, in my opinion, the bare minimum social contact and connection people need.

For many people this lockdown feels harder, more unstable and more serious then the ones we’ve faced before. So when I’m struggling I try not to let myself think too much about what other people are doing and instead focus on how lucky I am; my flat is clean and safe and I have, for the most part, been able to work. But it can be hard not to feel resentful when I see people out in larger groups, when I’m acutely aware that them doing so may potentially end in stronger restrictions for those of us who live alone down the line.

As frustrating as it can be though, there is one place the blame truly lays. And it’s not at the feet of the struggling parents hanging out with their friends at the park, or the newly-together couples who have broken the ‘sex ban,’ it’s not even with those attending 300 strong raves, no matter what Twitter wants you to believe. It’s with Boris Johnson and the government; a government that has failed at every opportunity to offer clear and concise guidance.

A government who have u-turned so often that it’s easy to comprehend how people don’t understand which set of rules they’re supposed to be following. And who have failed to protect people at every corner; whether that be from the virus itself, from financial ruin, or from the mental health impacts of the pandemic. And it is them, and them alone, who should feel ashamed. And it is them who has a responsibility to truly look out for everyone.

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