'This lockdown seems different': second time around, Melbourne is on edge

Melbourne residents will be locked down from midnight on Wednesday. It is both easier and much harder this time around.

Easier because remote working routines have already been established and because, this time, we know what to expect. And harder, because we know what to expect.

Gone is the optimism that powered the first Australia-wide lockdown in March, where people spoke of flattening the curve and experimented with baking sourdough and bought jigsaw puzzles for their children after the prime minister declared them “absolutely essential”.

The curve has flattened, bent, and bounced back up. The jigsaw puzzles have all been completed, and children who were prepared to go along with the first seven-week lockdown being a fun adventure are now anxious. Holidays were cancelled, again.

The return to lockdown, announced after Victoria recorded its highest daily increase in cases of the pandemic so far, was met with a mixture of resignation and relief; fury and sadness.

The stage three stay-at-home orders that will apply across greater Melbourne and the Mitchell shire ban anyone from leaving their home except for essential shopping, work or school that cannot be done remotely, caregiving and medical appointments, and exercise.

Related: Coronavirus Victoria: what you need to know about Melbourne's stage 3 lockdown

It’s tough, but much less tough than the hard lockdown conditions imposed on the 3,000 people living in nine public housing blocks in inner Melbourne. Many who spoke to Guardian Australia about their own anxieties mentioned the towers first: if they can survive that, we can survive this.

A city on edge

There is a nastiness to the public discourse that was absent in March. A desire to apportion blame – to the Andrews government for infection control failures in hotel quarantine; to Black Lives Matter protesters despite repeated confirmation that no transmissions have been traced back to the march; and to poor and migrant communities who have been blamed for the spike in family to family transmission.

That nastiness is driven in part by frustration, but also by fear. Australia did not have community transmission on this scale when the cases peaked in March. The risk is more pronounced.

“I guess this time it feels closer, it feels claustrophobic,” one person tells Guardian Australia. “Not the lockdown, but the thought that this outbreak, if it continues on, could see us tipping over into what we always saw as another country’s experience ... I’m scared the safety barrier is broken.”

Jordan Janssen recently lost his grandfather and says not being able to spend time with his grieving Nana under the lockdown is “extremely challenging”.

Related: 'They change the rules': confusion reigns for frightened and stressed Melbourne public housing residents

Janssen identifies as a “massive Dan Andrews fan” but the bungling of hotel quarantine makes it feel as if this outbreak – and therefore this lockdown – may have been preventable.

“This lockdown seems different,” he says. “I’m still completely comfortable that this is the right decision, but having a little taste of freedom and having to take that away is definitely harder.”

For some, supports that were in place last time have dissolved.

One woman will be experiencing this lockdown as a single parent, her relationship a casualty of the first lockdown.

Another woman lost her beloved 14-year-old cat in May. As a single person who lives alone, it was her primary companion. She is, like many single people, now facing another six weeks with no meaningful contact with another human being.

Ellen Sowersby is facing her second lockdown as a single parent to four-year-old twins. She says having to explain again that they can’t see family or go to the playground is “really upsetting”.

“Parenting on my own through a pandemic is hard,” she says. “I have a wonderful partner but he lives separately. So it can feel rather lonely at times, when all the pressure of needing to keep your children safe and happy all falls on your shoulders. It’s relentless.”

The kids are not alright

Bec Blakeney says her seven-year-old daughter “thrived” during the first lockdown, but is not doing well now.

“Recently I checked her worry jar and found her worries are: ‘having coronavirus’ and ‘not seeing my friends again’,” she says.

Jen Askhams’ son coped well with remote learning last time but he’s “really sad and anxious” this time. Socialising over Zoom, not ideal at the best of times, is very difficult when you’re seven.

“I heard him crying quietly in his room this morning and it was heartbreaking,” she says. “We’ve had to explain that we just don’t know what’s happening with school yet – it could be remote learning or it could be school, or some other combination. “

Older children are also struggling. Mel’s daughter is in year 12, and stressed by the prospect of remaining in face-to-face classes after some coronavirus cases were confirmed at her high school. She did well under lockdown, Mel says, and found it “incredibly stressful” to go back to school. They have been told that because VCE students are able to remain at school, she will fail attendance requirements if she studies at home.

Related: Australia coronavirus: almost two dozen healthcare workers and patients diagnosed with Covid-19

“The coverage seems to focus on how much these students miss their friends and benefit from being back at school, but actually there is a group of kids who are really worried about being there in person and would rather work from home, where they are calmer,” Mel says.

Patrick Stafford, whose child attends a specialist school, says the decision to keep specialist schools open during this lockdown has been described by some parents as a “lifesaver”.

“Balancing work and him was incredibly difficult,” he says. “So having the specialist schools open makes this lockdown so, so, so much easier.”

Other children are mourning the loss of winter sports. Jane says her eight-year-old son is more upset about his football season ending before he got to play a game than he is returning to remote learning.

Jobkeeping and jobseeking

Meanwhile, Jane, a freelance writer whose main client is a university, and her husband, an academic, have felt the impact of job cuts in the university sector. Others tell Guardian Australia they are worried that the slow drip of work which has sustained them since March will dry up.

Those who lost their job when the economy first shut down in March are struggling through the return of mutual obligations on jobseeker payments, and terrified of the prospect of payments being reduced from $1,100 to $565 a fortnight in September.

It is unclear whether the increased jobseeker payment, or the $1,500 fortnightly jobkeeper payment, will be extended beyond the end of September in response to the Melbourne outbreak.

“If jobseeker is reduced by any amount, I’m screwed,” says Jay Coonan. “I can’t make up the difference in income.”

Coonan says he has become used to staying in, and can’t really afford to go out, but will miss being able to visit friends. He’s also frustrated at the “blatant partisan politicisation of poor people from both the ALP and Liberal parties”.

One man, aged 21, says he dreads losing jobkeeper payments.

“I hope we are out of lockdown by then, that’s what really keeps me up at night,” he says.

He says he feels “just really fucking sad, but I’m not angry – it could be a lot worse. But it does feel like I’ve wasted one of the best years of my youth locked up at home.”

Another woman tells Guardian Australia that she is furious. “It seems like a few careless people have undone all the hard work and suffering we went through,” she says. “I’ve lost my job, and job seeking right now is soul destroying. I’m so worried about my future. I live alone, will have little capacity to see others and will have to mark my birthday alone. I have no confidence in how my mental wellbeing will fare, and I’m one of the lucky ones.”