I Feared She Might Never Bounce Back

Two years ago today, I walked down a deserted Marylebone High Street. Instead of the usual mid-week bustle, many places had already shut shop, and there was almost no-one around. I’d never seen London like this.

I was terrified. Would this strange virus destroy us all? Would London ever return to the vibrancy I’d, until now, taken for granted?

For a long time, it seemed like she might not. Six months after that Marylebone morning, my husband and I ventured into Soho for our first night out since the pandemic began. The centre of town was still eerily quiet.

It no longer is. In fact, it’s heaving. The other day there was a half hour queue at one of my favourite Soho cafes. The once silent, empty city felt like a distant memory.

Seeing this transformation reminds me how it is possible bounce back from challenging circumstances, even when we fear we might not be able to. That said, of course I also appreciate that recovery is not always a given. And that hidden behind the surface of this once again vibrant city, there are also many stories of loss, in its myriad of forms.

I do find it important to remember our potential to rise back up, though. Not least because I know that when I’ve been massively knocked down, my own tendency is to think, that’s it: I’ll never get over this; I’ll never flourish again.

Which was my initial response when, at barely thirty, I had my first big shock, in the form of a cancer diagnosis. Luckily, I did recover. Not just physically, but I was also able to rebuild my life in the wake of all the illness swept away from it.

Rather than recreating a painstaking replica of what we left behind, rebuilding often means crafting a new construction that responds appropriately to our new circumstances. While our losses might impose some restrictions – for example, breast cancer meant I couldn’t breastfeed my son – our reconstructed lives might well include aspects that are beyond what we could have previously imagined: if it wasn’t for cancer, I’d probably still be commuting across town to work a crazy 60 hour week as an architect.

I’ve had other shocks since that first one. Each time, my initial reaction has been sheer terror. Yet behind that fear, sits a knowing, deep in my cells, that rising back up again is possible. And while I wouldn’t wish hardship on any of us, I’ve come to believe that the experience of surviving past ones, is one of the tools that can help us find our way through future ones, and provides us with the hope that one day the light can indeed return.