During one of the seemingly endless days of the third lockdown, I found myself in tears over a typo. The typo itself wasn’t necessarily the biggest issue. The problem was that I had missed it. Only a week before, I had lost my job. And, as is the case for many young women, that job had become an essential part of my identity, something I could cling to during months of isolation.
As I wept over a spelling mistake, I couldn’t help but think that the person I was before lockdown would not have made this error. That during the endless days spent cooped up indoors, something very important to my sense of self had been forever misplaced. And I am not alone. Our
