The doors are closing | 1

 Be careful, the doors are closing. Time, routine and psyche on self-isolation through the eyes of writers

 Because of the pandemic, we attended a rehearsal for the end of the world: it never occurred to anyone that there would be massive self-isolation in our century - and this experience we just have to comprehend. Who can help in this matter? Writers with a prison past - who better than them know what real limitations and loneliness are. We study what happens with time, routine, neighbors and our psyche in isolation (alas, this knowledge can still be useful to us).

 If you take a quick glance at spring 2020, a nap immediately rolls over: the days from March to May merge into a single shapeless lump. And all the major events of that period cannot break this dense dark veil. It is difficult for us to recover our own feelings and emotions that we experienced only six months ago. But if you have difficulties with reflection, you can turn to someone else's experience - and see how isolation changes habits, attitudes and lifestyle.

 Schedule in isolation

 Fun fact: Routine itself is good. Thus, there is a positive correlation between a timetable, a “timed” day, and a sense of meaningful life.

 Most likely, things from the list of tasks help us achieve our goals, and the latter are a part of ourselves, because routine is a way to be present in our own life.

 Once locked up, a person "falls out" of the usual way: neither you have a tasteless lunch in the dining room, nor a walk to the store for cosmetics. Only a normal defense mechanism - denial, anger, bargaining, and further down the list.

 In return, prison (and, to a lesser extent, self-isolation) imposes its will and schedule on the prisoner. Hence the artistic descriptions of the conclusion:

 "... life is monotonous, like a drop of water on a gloomy autumn day" (F. M. Dostoevsky, "Notes from a dead house");

 “My senses are tired. Eyes - from the monotony of colors, from endless combinations of gray, yellow and green (all dull, dim, causing feelings of anxiety and discomfort). Tongue - from the same flavor combinations of tea, bread and cigarettes. Food has become a dull duty. I chewed, mechanically grinding food, and swallowed it like medicine ”(A. Rubanov,“ Plant and it will grow ”).

 The choice of solutions in such conditions is extremely limited - the penitentiary institution does not imply any autonomy. Institutionalization gradually takes place - a person gets used to new conditions.

 Therefore, the advice popular during the period of self-isolation is logical and correct: establish a daily routine. If all the usual routes are broken, new ones need to be laid. This is the only way to truly return to your own life.

 Which, by the way, from now on becomes monstrously slow.

 Time in isolation

 We have a stopwatch, clock, and calendar to guide our own lives, but the sense of time depends on both emotions and cognitive perception. Waiting for pain or for a train are two different expectations. Twenty minutes before the ceremony is not the same as twenty minutes before the execution. It's boring - and the hands of the clock move slowly, merrily - they accelerate.

 There are two cognitive models for assessing time: retrospective - based on memories and experiences - and prospective, which depends on where we are and how much attention and working memory this location requires.

 Where there is nothing interesting and vivid memories do not arise, time is also blurred. Days turn into a clump of pasta sticking together. Decisions are postponed until "when it's all over."

 Dostoevsky, in Notes from the House of the Dead, tells about his experience of being imprisoned in prison:

 “A free man ... lives, he acts; real life fascinates him with its cycle completely. Not so for a prisoner. ... He decisively, instinctively cannot accept his fate as something positive, final, as a part of real life. " According to Dostoevsky, the time spent in isolation does not remain in memory. It seems to be absent where there is no active action and free will.

 Twenty years later, the convict expects to be released from prison exactly the same as he entered the prison. This is a time of nothingness - it does not age.

 In self-isolation, online trainings, sports marathons, idiotic challenges and even cleaning have become tools for imitating "real" life. In a word, all the cases that were previously postponed for later.

 Andrei Sinyavsky called five years in a forced labor camp the best time in his life. He combined physical work with reading and research, and in his legendary "127 letters of love" addressed to his wife, he set out ideas that later became articles and books.

 Sinyavsky formulated an important principle: in prison, even when you are idle, as if you are busy with something - you are serving time. But this "activity" is illusory. “I don't want to live dependent on the future,” he admits.

 Instead of perceiving isolation as an endless time, you can try to breathe some meaning into it: learn how to do push-ups, dismantle the pantry (no matter how funny it sounds for free and busy people now!).

 Unless, of course, you will not be disturbed.