somebody to lean on
I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this for the past few weeks. How does one possibly sum up a year's worth of feelings after navigating a global pandemic? Finding the words to express how I’ve felt over this past year seems near impossible. I wrote a poem called waves about a month into the pandemic and a year later emotions continue much like the ocean’s tide – billows of fear and uncertainty, followed by ripples of calm and peace. After ringing in the New Year, leaving 2020 behind us, it hit me just how fast we were approaching a year of Covid. I find it strange how time has managed to pass by so quickly but life has stood still. Thinking back to last March, it feels like another lifetime but here we are seemingly frozen in time. Mother Earth has been spinning and we’re still holding on.
Oddly enough as we enter March I’ve found myself torn. Torn between feeling excited about our new normal yet anxious for the unknown. There’s been a lot of talk about when this pandemic is over and life after covid and I’ve been grappling with a vision of what that will be. So instead I’ve found myself wanting to soak up these moments of calm – from the surprise pen pal letters to the magic that is zoom theatre.
I spent many moments last year feeling terrified about the potential effects covid could have on me, as someone living with Type 1 Diabetes. I made a choice — a choice I don’t think a lot of people understand. A choice to quarantine with my household and stay that way until it was safe to do otherwise. For us that's meant no grocery stores, no outdoor dining and not seeing anyone outside of our family. I spent more time than I should’ve last year, doubting myself and my choices — feeling like maybe I was being too cautious, too scared. It took me several months before I chose to stop feeling that way. Because here’s the thing, whatever I did worked because I’m still here. It hasn’t been easy but I am proud of myself for continuously finding ways to stay grounded and motivated and allowing myself rest when I needed that too.
I saw a post the other day where a couple was going through a separation right before the world changed. Then when the pandemic hit, it forced them to hold off on their separation and quarantine with their kid. They talked about how they didn’t feel ready to go back to real life yet. Something about that post spoke to me. I miss so much of life before the pandemic and can’t wait to see friends and get back to work but there has been something unexpectedly comforting about this time. We’ve allowed ourselves to eliminate expectations and obligations - a chance to reroot ourselves and dedicate time to the things we used to find ourselves putting off. There’s a very big part of me that hopes I don’t lose touch with these new roots. When life gets busy again and there’s more to juggle, I don’t want to stop making time for reading, practicing the uke or allowing myself to take a mental health day.
Over the past year, I’ve had this recurring dream about being in a crowd and no one is wearing a mask. I spend the entire dream trying to find a mask or leave and then I wake up – feeling anxious and rather bothered that even my subconscious can’t seem to escape pandemic stress.
On March 1st I had a new dream. I was in my house with family and friends – we were having a party – I’m not sure why. We were in my dining room and we were all smiling. Then all of the sudden, we started singing Lean On Me. Surrounded by familiar faces, everyone started clapping and singing at the top of their lungs. No masks, no covid – a celebration.
I’m not one to read into dreams too much but I woke up from this one feeling a sense of warmth make its way through my body. The more I thought about it, the more emotional I got – for the first time in a long time I felt a sense of comfort and calm. The fact that this dream came to me in March of all months seemed like a sign? Do I even believe in signs? I don’t know...I’d like to think I do.
Every so often I’ve found myself feeling sad for all that was taken from us this past year. Birthday parties and graduations. Live theatre, vacation plans and job opportunities. Canceled concerts, weddings and dinner dates. A year ago I, like a lot of the world was grappling with the five stages of grief when it came to the pandemic – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance – not a straight line, sometimes feeling it all in a single day. Towards the middle of last year, I found myself in the acceptance stage. I realized the only way to survive was to accept it and make the best of it.
Last March it seemed like survival of the fittest – people fighting over toilet paper and hoarding Clorox wipes. My family alone was getting groceries and essentials from several different places – flour and eggs from local restaurants and toilet paper from Staples. It all felt very apocalyptic. The repetition of sourcing groceries and claiming store pickup slots became routine and eventually that routine became the norm. As things start to open up again and more and more people get vaccinated, it’s still unclear what exactly the world will look like.
Our new normal is still full of a lot of unknowns and that can be unsettling but after a year of so much distance, I hope this new chapter brings us all a little closer.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about those who lost their lives or loved ones to Covid. I googled it today – 2.63 million people worldwide. 2.63 million people. I wish I knew how to express my sympathy to those who lost someone they loved to this virus but instead I find myself completely heartbroken, at a loss for words. All we can do is make damn sure we don’t take even the little things for granted.
While we all went through this pandemic together, our experiences have been widely different. As we make our way back into each other's lives I can only hope that we are empathetic and understanding. Some people lost jobs, others lost loved ones. Some people struggled with their mental health, while others were given new opportunities. Go easy on yourself and go easy on each other – there was no pandemic survival guide handbook.
“I just might have a problem that you’ll understand.
We all need somebody to lean on – lean on me –
When you’re not strong, and I’ll be your friend.
I’ll help you carry on…”
One day at a time, we will continue to adapt and search for the silver linings. In spite of all the isolation and loss we’ve experienced this past year, there sure has been a whole lot of love. As we navigate this new normal, let’s continue to lean on and support one another. And hey – call me, if you need a friend.
