blending the blues
It’s December. The season that seems to radiate gratitude and giving back. Even in Los Angeles, the weather is cooler and the air crisp. I’ve always loved the smell of home at Christmas time; the smell of cookies carries throughout the house. The heater brings forth a sense of comfort that immerses itself so deep into my bones I feel as though I can taste its warmth. The earthy, woodsy smell of pine catches my attention every so often. This time of year has always been my favorite. It’s always meant family and seeing friends I’ve known since childhood but would only ever really see at holiday parties. Christmas has always provided me a sense of calm, moments of reflection and resolutions for the year to come.
It’s December in 2020 –– a year that has looked unlike any other. A year that has been full of loss, injustice and loneliness. Yet without fail, the weather is cooler and the air, crisp. My house smells of cookies and Christmas pine. I feel a sense of calm and safety as I reflect on the last few months. I find myself thinking about all this year has taught me and anticipate what’s to come in the next.
This year has been a blur. Hours blending into hours, days into days, months into months. Moments into memories...blending together like the colors in a watercolor painting. I look back and see lots of blue. Different shades. Dark blues; the sadness, the loneliness, the uncertainty. Light blues; clear skies, hope, calm. These shades of blue blending together like the emotions and moments that defined this year.
I think back to the beginning, ringing in the New Year with family and friends. Big resolutions and even bigger dreams. Career goals and spontaneous adventures. A room full of people —– full of light and expectations. Hope that the new year would bring good tidings and fulfill promises. Little did we know what life would look like in just two short months.
Come March, the world flipped upside down. Everyone and everything, halted. Stopped in our tracks. Scared, confused and faced with endless uncertainty. Within days, life as we knew it had become history. There will now and forever be a then and an after.
As I sit in the safety and comfort of my home, March feels so distant. Like an eternity has passed but how –– at the same time feeling like no time has passed at all. It feels like another lifetime but also like we’re just frozen in time. On pause. Mother Earth, still spinning as its inhabitants hold onto her for dear life.
I’ve been in quarantine now for over 270 days. I am immunocompromised, Type 1 Diabetes. My family and I have been extremely cautious. It may seem excessive to some but as time has passed I’ve become less and less concerned with what people think and more focused on staying safe. I’ve read quite a few articles about being a diabetic and the effect this pandemic has had on someone living with an incurable disease. For the first time since the pandemic hit I started to realize that I was not alone in my fears. I saw myself in others' words –– in their attempt to shake people ever so slightly so that maybe they could experience this time, navigating this pandemic, through the eyes of someone who is immunocompromised.
When I was eleven I was told that I would need to take insulin and check my blood sugar at least six times a day. I was told I would have to inject myself anytime I wanted to eat anything and that I could no longer drink orange juice except for emergencies. I really liked orange juice. Life as I had known it for eleven years, gone. Not accepting my new normal would be life threatening. So, I accepted and I adapted.
A decade later and I don’t really remember my life before needles and the constant that is diabetes. No days off. Every choice I make, influenced by diabetes. I’ve learned to live with it, some of those choices are now subconscious but they exist. Something as simple as a trip to Target includes my insulin pump, back up pump supplies and back up needles in case my pump fails entirely. Plus juice boxes for the potential low.
Diabetes is not easy but it has taught me about how resilient I am and for that I am grateful. There is a lot in life that we can’t control and that is extremely unsettling. For someone who loves to be in control, learning to live with diabetes was no easy feat. It was met with a lot of tears and a lot of fear. But I didn't have a choice. Not accepting and adapting meant I wouldn’t survive. So I did and before I knew it, so much of it became second nature. Being diagnosed with a life changing disease at eleven years old meant growing up faster than most kids my age. The feeling that comes with being told that if you had waited even just a week longer you could’ve been in a coma or worse, forever lingers over you.
This pandemic has me, yet again, faced with having to accept and adapt. I don’t want to put myself at risk but even more so, I know what it is like to be diagnosed with an incurable disease. I know what it’s like to have zero control over your entire life shifting, changing. I owe it to my family, my friends and the myriad of strangers whose lives we could forever impact, to stay home and be safe. I can’t fathom being the reason someone is faced with a life changing illness. Not to mention, I don’t know what the outcome would be for myself and I’d rather not find out.
In the big scheme of things - wearing a mask, avoiding gatherings and staying home seems so simple in comparison to all I had to endure when diagnosed with diabetes. Eleven years later and for different, seemingly more important reasons, I have found myself accepting and adapting.
The decision to stay home to the extent I have is a choice, a choice that comes with privilege. Privilege that comes with living at home rent free. Privilege that comes with being financially secure. Privilege that comes with having a comfortable, loving homelife. It is a choice that most people can’t afford to make. But if my staying home has the chance of keeping those who can’t, safe...then that makes it easier.
Easier but not easy. I live in a house with quite a few people - people I love. It’s never quiet and never lonely but it hasn’t always been easy. I miss being on set, I miss Disneyland with friends, I miss coffee dates and nights out at restaurants. I miss making plans and spontaneous trips to TJ Maxx. I miss singing with my friends in the car and sharing new songs. I miss carpool chats about anything and everything. I miss smiles from strangers and those hugs from friends you hadn’t seen in months. I miss it all, always.
So for now I hold onto those moments, those memories. For this too shall pass. The distance will shorten, our wounds will heal and before we know it there will be dancing in the streets. Until then, I will continue to adapt. I will appreciate this time to write and read. I will take pride in small accomplishments. I will be open to the opportunities to create passion projects and I will take full advantage of the slowness of it all.
Smells of cinnamon and balsam fill the air I breathe. Music fills my ears as an attempt to drown out the distraction but not loud enough for it to disappear completely. Faint crackling, as the candle atop my dresser burns across the room. The clock lets out a soft ticking, counting every second. My siblings chatter fills the other room as they talk about math homework and finals.
I sit, eyes closed. Christmas is just around the corner, followed by a new year. A new beginning. I think back to this year and amid the pain and heartbreak I am met with lasting memories. I am met with thoughts of zoom calls with family whom I would normally see, maybe once a year. I am met with zoom game nights and Wednesday phone calls. I am met with weekly family movie nights. I am met with pen pal letters and porch chats. I am met with virtual reconnection with old friends and sharing laughs with new ones. I am met with patio dinners, fire pits and smores.
Thinking back on this year I am reminded not by what has been taken away but by what we have managed to do with what we’ve been given. New traditions and drive-by celebrations. A newfound appreciation for things that had once been taken for granted. We build relationships through shared experience and this year, these experiences have allowed us all the chance to grieve and grow...together while miles apart.
Christmas will look a little different this year. Our holiday party will take place on zoom. Memories made with family and friends will happen at a distance. No less special, just different.
The New Year has always offered new beginnings and a fresh start. While it seems as though we will be facing repercussions from this year for quite some time, I am still hopeful. Cautiously hopeful, but hopeful nonetheless. It will be a long while before we all heal from this. Many will never heal completely for they will forever have an empty seat at the table. Slowly but surely we will pick up the pieces and mend them back together as best as we can.
I anticipate this new year will bring its own challenges and its own triumphs. If this past year, this past eleven years has taught me anything, it’s that while we can’t control what is thrown at us, we can choose how we react. Running from change will only leave us lost and resentful. We must accept change with open arms and embrace it. Embrace the uncertainty, the unknown, all that is to come. As this year blends into the next, I hope you are brave enough to find calm amidst the storm. For we have the power within ourselves to adapt, blend the blues and find the silver linings.
