Blog: My previous 24 hours

It is important that we actively listen to and learn from the experiences of Londoners to best support mental health, wellbeing and resilience and the characteristics which influence these. Here, Roger Juer blogs about his experience of lockdown and feeling lonely.

By Roger Juer

I design and build environments. At least, that is what I used to do. I’m old now. But I have something to say and this morning I thought it might do some good, somewhere, to – just for once – journal the events and thoughts of the last 24 hours in my life. It will be disjointed, and in lousy style, but here goes.

Yesterday morning I phoned the Philips global electrical company. I had tried online, and failed, to get the second-year warranty on a new shaver I had recently bought myself. I needed help with this simple task. The agent who answered my call was really friendly, supportive, and efficient, and for an hour after the conversation ended, I felt great. Why? Because I had been treated the way that person would like to be treated themselves. With courtesy and patience, and without judgment, aggression, or condescension. It was wonderful!

But then the euphoria wore off. I went for a walk in glorious sunshine and was soon in a leafy bit of London’s public open space where people were chatting amiably to each other. Or whizzing around on bikes and scooters with music blaring from loudspeakers. Or on the phone to friends, relatives, and colleagues. But they all had someone to talk to as a matter of course. I didn’t. Odd man out. I didn’t belong there.

Since lockdown, actually since long before it, nobody has called me just to say, ‘Just wondered how you are and if you need anything?’. I have no family members, no relatives anywhere, no close friends or lovers. I have a lodger, of whom I am very fond, and we get along very well, but he has chosen to spend lockdown with family and friends in the Midlands. Though disrupted, his life there is rich and connected. He never contacts me. Why should he?

Every December I go through a fortnight of misery. I’m a very social person, and I love company, but come Christmas I am forgotten or abandoned while people get on with their own lives, stuffing turkeys pulling crackers swapping pressies etc. For me, lockdown has been like a hugely magnified, extended, infinite Christmas. The loneliness has become almost intolerable.

When I told a former colleague that I was recently feeling isolated because almost nobody phones me, she said, ‘I’ll phone you, I love talking with you.’ Within a week she did that. Wonderful. A week later she did it again. Wonderful. And then it dried up. In the hurly-burly of information and contact overload they just fizzle out.

I go to my local Tesco Express every day, sometimes twice a day, because there is a lady who works there and who always says hello to me – and asks me how I am. I think she knows that is the real reason why I go. Those few words in Tesco really make my day. They will often be the only conversation I will have.

I’ve just received a message from a network coworker in Kolkata, India. His home has been rendered uninhabitable for the time being by a cyclone, which has left many dead or homeless and destitute. A wonderful, tireless (if occasionally tiresome) campaigner for LGBTQI+ rights and acceptance in India as well as globally, he now has other things to deal with before he can return to that work.

Yesterday evening I tried participating in a Google Meet meeting. I am from the pre-computer age, and although I try very hard, every day, there is a fatal disconnect between the way my mind works and the way modern technology works. This is a huge disadvantage at any time, but particularly so in times of social distancing, lockdown, etc. At the meeting, everyone was keen to tell me I was upside down. I knew that. I could see for myself that I was upside-down. I didn’t want to be upside down but there was nothing I could do on the spot to correct myself to try to measure up to the abilities of all the other participants.

I say hello and show an interest in each of those people squatting, paper cup in hand, outside my local supermarket, bank, etc. Perhaps you have seen them too – and perhaps you chatted with them. I have felt too low recently to do that, but seeing them is a reminder that this virus has impacted and will continue to impact upon a great many innocent lives. Those people are not criminals. If they were, they would be occupying their time differently. We can all turn the other cheek and pass by on the other side. But we don’t have to.

I’ve been told that people ‘detest’ talking on the phone. I have that in writing. Does that make me a bad person for enjoying listening? Enjoying the occasional chat on the phone? I know of several people, some LGBTQ, some not, who are even less proficient than I in modern technology. Some have only basic, non-smart phones; some, incredibly, no phone at all – and no computer.

Some of those people are happy like that; some are not. But they all appreciate being part of society in some way, rather than being excluded from it. That is why I think a telephone service is invaluable to the minority of folk who have simply never felt comfortable in bed with a Mac or a PC.

Next time you ask someone how they are, and they reply, ‘I’m ok’, you will now know what they might not be telling you. Even if they would like to.

Tools and resources to support your mental health and wellbeing

Considering the extra challenges at the moment, it’s never been more important for each of us to think and talk more about mental health and wellbeing, and to seek support when needed.

In London, there are a range of free resources, online tools, and helplines available to help you cope and stay mentally healthy. Alternatively, your GP can advise you about helpful treatments and also help you access mental health services. You may be able to refer yourself to some services.

Or you may feel more comfortable talking to someone you don’t know by using one of the following helplines:

• At a Loss can provide additional information and resources if you’ve been bereaved and need support, or if you are supporting someone who has been bereaved.
• The Black, African and Asian Therapy Network is the UK’s largest independent organisation specialises in working psychologically, with people who identify as Black, African, South Asian and Caribbean. Their website provides a list of local and free resources and services for people of minority background who are seeking help.
• Samaritans free, 24-hour listening service on 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org.
• Shout is the UK’s first 24/7 text messaging service for anyone in crisis. Text Shout at any time to 85258 to start a conversation.
• The Switchboard LGBT+ helpline is open daily from 10am-10pm on 0300 330 0630 or email chris@switchboard.lgbt.
• Young Minds have advice on supporting the mental health and wellbeing of young people and a dedicated parents’ helpline.