OPINION: Furlough during Covid lockdown became an opportunity for learning and personal growth

It’s an unsettling feeling, looking back and realising that it has been five years since that March 23, when the world around us came to a standstill after the UK government announced the first lockdown.

Those days, and the months that followed, almost feel as if they belonged to a different timeline, a succession of blurred chapters in the books of our personal history.

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One of the sharpest memories from those first days was the moment I was told I was to be put on furlough - only a few days, if hours, after I had heard that word for the first time.

At the time, it felt like going down a stair, in the dark, and missing a step. That instant of panic and confusion, not knowing whether you are going to fall or find ground to balance.

I knew I was one of the lucky ones. My job was still there, and most importantly, enough money to withstand the storm. I am very grateful for how, even if I had been with the company only a few months, I was retained and able to return to work eventually. The announcement was done in a very understanding and human way by the people who communicated with me.

Yet, it hit me harder than I would have wanted. It was the first time, after years of hard work to pursue a career in journalism, that I was forced to a halt. I felt disoriented, lost.

I moved from Italy to Scotland to follow a dream job, making my way through university, graduating as the only person in my multimedia journalism class who was not a native English speaker. I felt the buzz, and I felt I was heading in the right direction.

Then, a job opportunity opened up for a reporter at The Inverness Courier. I moved to the Highland capital on a sunny day, and started my first-ever, full-time job as a journalist. It was July 2019.

I had found a family in my local rugby team, Inverness Craig Dunain, I met my partner shortly after, I had the best flatmate one could ask for. I was growing into a role I really loved, with a wonderful team of colleagues. I was living the dream.

Only a few months later, Coronavirus was first reported in Italy. The main clusters were identified in the north, where my family lives. I remember watching the nightmare unravel so close to home. Many will remember the pictures from Bergamo, the procession of military vehicles carrying more than 70 victims of the virus. It felt weird to see life going on as normal in the UK.

I remember being asked by colleagues how the situation was. They were even then really supportive, and I recall a sense of unease looming over.

We were told to work from home in March, and soon after lockdown was announced.

The following day, a phone call from the editor confirmed my new situation - so, on March 24, I joined the growing army of furloughed workers. The week that followed was one of the hardest moments I have experienced as an adult.

My family and loved ones were all in Milan, a city in which the cases (and deaths) were rising by the day. I was isolated from every person I cared for in this country - my partner lived in Moray, rugby was of course temporarily cancelled, my flatmate and friend had moved to France, and I was living with a young French stonemason, who - although he was a lovely person - rarely left his room. And I had to stop doing what I had been working hard for many years to achieve.

I felt disoriented, lost, with no purpose. The first week, getting out of bed was a struggle. I felt like a failure, and I was scared of what the future would hold.

However, I am lucky to have some amazing friends, who I knew I could reach out to. Even if remotely, their words nurtured me back to strength. And, although I was still feeling low from not being able to do the work I love, I decided to take this time as an opportunity to grow in other areas of my life.

So, furlough then became an occasion to learn - online courses were one of the things that really kept me going and dragged me out of a dark headspace. I was able to get my NCTJ Gold Standard Diploma after getting through my 100 words per minute shorthand exam.

I found courses on everything, from drawing to photography, to podcasting. As a whisky enthusiast, I joined the many virtual tastings that were being organised - one of the highlights was a doughnut and whisky pairing organised by local café Perk and the Malt Room. With a friend, I was also leading some of those online tastings, which was another out-of-my-comfort-zone experiences. However if anything, my alcohol consumption has been reduced considerably.

Being in Inverness, I was lucky to use the hour of daily exercise to get back into running, and exploring my surroundings - and when the hour was over, I could spend time looking after the garden. I never had a proper one before, so this was a learning curve for me. I started doing daily yoga practices (of course!) and working out at home on Zoom with some teammates. I practised goal kicking from a tee, given that passing a rugby ball to trees is not exactly the most exciting practice.

I caught up on movies and TV shows, joined a book club and cooked as much as I could (yes, I tried to make sourdough and no, I never succeeded in making a decent loaf).

However when you are on furlough, filling in the time is not always easy - as much as you try. My brain suffered a lot in those months. I tried to get back into journalism, trying to write for web outlets which were there for people like me. Expand my horizons and write about more than local news. But it felt as if my brain had atrophied. I could start a project, have the ideas, and do the interviews, but then at the moment of tying things together, my mind went blank. That is something I am still recovering from.

Months passed, and we had reopenings and re-closures. I could see my partner again, if occasionally. I managed to see my family and fly back - and took the chance to stay a bit longer, which was one of the brighter sides of furlough. Things were looking up, if not perfect.

My last act as a person on furlough was making a huge step I had been dreaming of for years. I adopted Chewie, an 11-month old Carpathian shepherd mix from Romania who was in foster care in Rosemarkie. In his own way, he turned my life inside out and upside down. I finally had the time to look after him and help him settle at home. I had to learn a level of patience, empathy and understanding that I don’t think I ever had before.

Less than two weeks after Chewie arrived, I received a phone call from the office. It was time to get back to work (in a different role, joining the digital audience team, remotely and part-time at first).

Looking back at that year I spent basically out of work, I feel that much has changed. It helped me listen to my physical and mental needs better.

In a way, it was also good to slow down, for the first time in many, many years. I now call my family every day. The bond has strengthened, even if remotely.

And although yes, I am still working on getting back my full mental stamina and leaving that sense of fatigue behind, it made me realise even more how much I love being a journalist, and crave for more.

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