I remember waking up the day after lockdown had commenced, and realising that I don’t really have anything to prepare for. (I mean, duh, I still work from home, but that’s not what I’m talking about).

I mean: there were no events to plan, schedules to manage and family time to balance. I didn’t have to stress about washing my hair or finding the perfect outfit or making sure that I have a babysitter.

There were no bags to pack and no clothes to iron. No rehearsals to plan for and no meetings to prepare for. No lunch to make. No phone calls to take, as I dash out of the house, with my laptop bag in my one hand and my 5 year old’s hand in the other, trying to dodge my crying baby’s arms.

So I lay there, on day 1 of lockdown, marveling at the stillness (of my brain, not my household, there are a gazillion small people in my home) and I think to myself: is this what living life actually feels like?

I mean, sure it’s lekker to be busy and to be surrounded with people all the time. But for someone like me… someone with a spreadsheet brain… planning and prepping can sometimes take precedence over the “living” part.

The “being” part of ‘human being’ becomes more important than the “human” part.

And honestly speaking, this revelation is not new to me. I know that I’m a busy lady (sometimes too busy, as my husband often points out) and I know that I need to slow down in this season of raising babies.

But no matter how hard I tried (okay, did I really try, let’s be honest) I could never slow down all the way. There would always be something or someone tugging at me to take on added responsibility. And I would always oblige because I figured that, well, I have the capacity to do it, so why not.

But the thing about being TOO busy is that your business becomes your focus. Not the task. Not the people. Just the fact that you’re busy. “Argh, I have so much to do” instead of “Aack, I’m so enjoying this right now”.

Even the Bible speaks about focusing on the right thing, so that the “things of the world” can fade away and the main things can stay main, in your life.

Being too busy means that you’re not focused on the right thing. In my case, the right thing would be spending time with God and obviously would include things like raising my babies, investing in my marriage and making sure that I am emotionally and physically healthy.

Anyways, with that said, my time, in isolation, has kinda been like a factory reset button. The actual “isolation” part of being “in isolation” has been a blessing to me. There, I said it.

I know that the Covid-19 lockdown isn’t all sunshine and roses… I mean, it’s more sucky than it is lekker. But, hey, atleast it gave me a minute to sort out the junk in my head.

Have you had any lockdown revelations?

I don’t know about you guys but our current lock down situation is showing me flames. It’s hard to be content with staying in one place when you have ish to do, right?

I mean, lock down has forced me to cancel events, hair appointments, coffee dates… I’m so annoyed! Also, I desperately need a Big Mac meal. Argh, this is so frustrating. The outcry! The heartbreak! However will I cope?!

Aaand right there, in that moment, is when I realize that I am being a chop and that I need to check my privilege.

You see, friends, privilege probably looks a lot different to each person. I mean, it’s not just about money.

In fact, I didn’t exactly grow up in a household rollin’ in dough. (Dough as in cash, not dough as in the malleable mixture of flour and water. But you knew that.)

And, although my parents and grandmother gave me everything I needed to survive, there was a bunch of things that we couldn’t afford back then… stuff that my kids take for granted right now like electronic devices, out-of-town holidays, random trips to KFC, name branded sneakers etc. We got by. And that was enough.

These days I visit KFC a bit more than I should (cough cough) and yet I still don’t feel as if I’m “Britney Spears rich” (Wait, she’s still rich, right?)

Until the Covid-19 lock down hit.

As I sat there, on my couch, drinking my tea, while scrolling through Instagram, I heard myself complain about all the things that I would not be able to do, during quarantine. And that’s when I had to give myself a big, fat roundhouse kick against the head (I mean, I didn’t actually, because how does one kick oneself?) because I was acting like an entitled brat.

I mean, while I had to cancel events, some of my fellow South Africans had to cancel jobs and contracts that would have provided for their families.

Some of my countrymen had to say goodbye to their parents, not knowing when and if they would see them again.

I could mourn my cancelled appointments in the comfort of my WiFi bedecked home, while my fellow South Africans share one room with 10 family members and no running water. I mourn my fast food burgers, while others mourn the piece-jobs they relied on, and street corners they sold fruit at, to buy their daily bread.

Heck, some of my countrymen aren’t even afforded the opportunity (and safety) of lock down, because they are out there serving on people like me.

And while I understand that it certainly is frustrating for ALL of us (yes, even us, the WiFi enriched sort) and we most certainly have been left in an awkward state, I kinda know that when I was complaining, my thoughts were more bent towards how much I deserve to live the life of a queen and were a lot less turned towards how little I had to give up in comparison to some of our more impoverished brothers and sisters.

And so, I’m here to let you guys know that I realise that I was being a chop and that I am swiftly and pertly nipping that ish in the bud. Because honestly, you guys, my privilege sticks out like a sore thumb right now. It’s so painfully obvious. I can’t ignore it.

And while I can’t help for privilege (for the most part), I am so embarrassed by my previous lack of awareness of it. But I promise to do better and to teach my kids to do better from this moment on.

Because entitlement and an absence of empathy is almost like a virus all on its own. And it’s one that I don’t plan to spread.