62 years ago I was born in Sydney. I stayed a week. I’m a Melburnian!!

Being on the spectrum I am hard wired positive, sometimes intimidatingly so and until recently, always looking forward to what’s next.

Right now, this is the lowest I’ve ever felt; not that the world will end soon low; just a long flat dull thud kind of low. For me joy is harder to find than it has ever been.

And I can feel many of you are the same way. Not a week goes by without an increasing number of you making some form of contact to talk about the possibility of selling up and moving on.

In many ways who can blame you – we have gone in our own minds, from the best city to damn near the worst. We are the laughingstock of Aus, despised by the Europeans and seen as laggards by the rest of the world in saving our planet. In our own minds. And all this whilst we are locked up, starved of friendships and worried about our futures. This is seemingly our lot as Melburnians.

Many think that at month’s end there will be some honeymoon champagne drinking for the more fortunate ones, but no earth-shattering, switch-flicking from all is wrong to all is right.

We have been relatively ravaged as Beirut has been, as Razzaq has been, as New York was 20 years ago. We are involved in collective trauma, the likes many of us have never experienced before.  So why would you not want to leave – to run – to look for life that is greener, sunnier, more vibrant on the other side of the hill.

Please, I am not about to suggest some jingoistic C’mon Melbourne campaign, although it wouldn’t hurt. In fact, I am not going to suggest or tell anybody how to deal with anything or how you should feel. It may seem unacceptable to many but I am even starting to feel a softer spot for the protesters, the anti vaxers, as I do for the medical teams and police. Things are less black and white for me in the 2000-2019 world’s most livable city than they were even a few months ago.

I have lost clear sense of my identity, of my community’s identity, of my beloved Melbourne’s identity. I am not as clear on who a Melburnian is. I want to get that back.

Yeah, I know chin up and soldier on and I will; but right now, it just doesn’t cut the mustard the same way it once did.

PTSD has become an acronym that we not only get conceptually, but we are now getting a version of by living in Melbourne.

I am not sure if any of the above helps you or me but I think acceptance is one of those stages of loss, as is anger. I am more regularly finding I have to ask – did you really just say that Mal? Is that how you really feel? Or was that a visceral reaction to your current circumstances – away from that specific interaction that you just seemingly lost your marbles in?

I have an underlying feeling of disturbance, an increasing sense of loss, and that back of mind experience of blunt force trauma. And like you, I am some way from fully getting over things, despite my channelling otherwise. AND I have less reason logically to feel that my difficulties are comparable to yours. I am extremely lucky by any standard, extremely well off by any measurement and yet I still feel a little lost.