I don't have to justify my existence.
However, I used to be one of those busy, busy, busy people. I hated being stuck indoors. I always had something to do, whether it was going to the gym, swimming, rehearsals, gigs, choir practice, evenings out, seeing friends, going on expeditions into London, exploring different specialist food shops and cuisines, conservation work, decorating, shopping, volunteering, etc, etc. I've always been very aware of how quickly you can lose freedom because I've got PsA and a flare can take years to get through.
Last year's lockdown was tough, but I'd already sort of got used to doing fuck all as a result of a flare from the previous year and having caught Covid in March, the majority of it was spent trying to get enough air into my lungs and then forcing myself to get some exercise by using the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs, complete with a twenty five minute recovery period between each stage. Having a bath and actually getting myself in and out of it, never mind drying off, was far too much excitement for me. By August, I actually left the house three days a week for a graduated return to work and that felt like the most amazing thing ever.
The winter lockdown has been harder, as I've physically been able to do more things, but nothing's been open and DP took the Don't Leave Your Immediate Area stuff literally.
I'm really hoping that there isn't another lockdown, as I'd like at least a limited version of busy to come back. After all, I never know if I'm going to have another PsA flare, so I've got to get as much living in as I can.