For the past ten weeks of lockdown, I have received a call from Amy* at 2:33 am, every Monday morning. Generally, I do not pick up the phone after 11 pm. Yet, when it comes to Amy, she knows she can break the rules.
Amy is a mild-mannered, intelligent woman. Tonight, however, her voice is angry, sleep-deprived, riddled with anxiety. I remind myself not to take anything personally.
She cries.
“I can’t believe he’s lied to us – again. I don’t understand. Why can’t he tell the truth?”
Amy correlates vagueness with lies. It is merely how her brain works. It’s a hard mindset to snap out of, and she does not do it deliberately.
I know this because I used to be this way, too.
There is no grey in Amy’s world, just black and white. Yet the coronavirus pandemic, bereft of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, has thrust her straight into that divide.
I understand why this upsets her. After all, we both have Asperger’s Syndrome.
Unpredictability does not come easy for people on the spectrum. According to the National Autistic Society, there are over 700,000 autistic people living in the UK. Each individual comes with their own experiences of a socially-distant society.
Some, like me, have enjoyed the opportunity to retreat away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, giving us a chance to recharge our social batteries. I am one of the lucky ones because I accept that the only dependable aspect of the world is uncertainty.
Amy, on the other hand, is not so lucky.
Alone in her home, Cleveland-born Amy’s daily routine of volunteering at train stations has been completely shattered by her need to shield from COVID-19. Amy is aware social distancing is essential. However, she also needs people, and nobody is phoning or visiting her. According to some, she’s ‘high functioning and female enough’ to get along with things just fine.
Amy is far from fine. After all, her routine has changed. Her mental health has suffered. She’s glued to the news constantly, overloaded and frightened for the future. In her own words, Boris’s ambiguity is ‘crucifying’ her.
She asks longingly: “I won’t ever see Mum again, will I?”
“You will see Mum again,” I remind her. “She’s safe and well. She spoke to you yesterday. We’ve just got to stay away until it’s safe to see her.”
Amy remains persistent: “But what does Boris mean by ‘stay alert’? I am already scared. What’s the point in living if this virus is going to kill me?”
I do not have the answers. Nobody does. All I can offer is an ear, reassurance and my interpretations.
“For people like Amy, the government approach is staggering.”
Lockdown has made life tricky for us all, and our lives have all done a 180 in the past weeks. Whether we’re yearning for things to get back to normal like Amy, or we’re content in celebrating the solitude, we’re all creatures of routine. Change is a tough pill to swallow, whether you’re autistic or not.
However, for some people, Boris’s vagueness has further compounded the problem, and if all the cuts to local social support hadn’t been enough of a blow, there’s no telling how this lack of clarity will further isolate the UK’s autism community.
For people like Amy, the government approach is staggering. We need the clarity, not the waffle or the prosaic, metaphorical jargon. To come out of this pandemic in unity, we must steer clear of ambiguity.
After all, we’re all in this together, aren’t we?
April Ryan
* – Names and locations have been changed on request.
Featured image courtesy of Claudia Chiavazza on Unsplash. This image has in no way been altered. Image license is available here.
April Lloyd
Hello! My name is April, as I am sure you already guessed. I come from the Wirral and work for JournoResources as an Editorial Assistant. You will most likely spot me in a TK Maxx store looking for crab bells.