Trying My Best

“So, let me get this straight: there were bushfires in Australia that killed thousands of animals.”

“Yes. And by the time the pandemic hit, most people had forgotten about the bushfires.”

“ The pandemic??! ”

“Yes.”

“And the systemic racism?”

“All over North America. Protests in the streets. And necessarily so."

“ All of this happened in a reasonable amount of time, right? Where you could deal with it, one step at a time?”

“Nope. All in the span of a few months.”

(Silence…)

“Dang, grandma. You’re tough.”

Decades from now, this is the conversation I envision having with my grandkids (0r someone else’s grandkids. They don’t have to be mine. I’d make a pretty cool great-aunt). At any rate, the kids will need to know that if 2020 were a movie script, an editor wouldn’t know where to begin. There are multiple plots to follow, and the events listed above are just the tippiest-tip of the iceberg. We’re not even done. It’s only July. In a story setting, this would be too much.

But.

Ice Water to the Face

This is not fiction. This is real life — history we’re living through. Anything can happen at any time. There are no rules.

And guess what. It’s all happening at once.

Anyone else feeling overwhelmed? Absolutely decimated by the Disastrous?

Don’t worry, me too.

My Story

Heading into 2020, I was optimistic. I moved to Vancouver for the arts scene. I got a new job. I fell in love with the city— its lights on the skyscrapers at night, its parks along the sea wall, its people who believe in you. Everything was going according to plan.

Then March came along with Covid. Theatres shut down. Businesses closed or went bankrupt. I lost my job and had to move back to my hometown. Sure, my plan got stunted, and while that’s frustrating, I just had to take a look at the global stage: Black people being killed in the U.S. Indigenous people being killed in Canada. Undeniable proof that racism still exists and governments need a overhaul. So, I did what I can. I signed petitions, I donated, and I tried to re-educate myself. Yet, I did so sitting in the shade of a fig-tree, on a sundeck in a far away corner of British Columbia. I felt guilty for this. I’m one of the lucky few who isn't currently fighting to stay alive.

But the cherry on top?

“I hate to do this over messenger but…”

He’s tree-planting in the interior. Barely gets service, so he can’t call. He’s found someone new in his own far away place.

I understand. It’s a lonely time. I’m not angry, but it’s still a punch to the gut. 3 years down the drain (or, as a mom would say, 3 years of “experience.”)

Now I feel lonely too.

Then I Came Across This Song

If you give the song a listen, that will be enough, but I strongly encourage watching the video as well. It begins with a man holding cue cards. Big, sharpie letters read:

“Hi. My name is Anson and I wrote this song for all of you.

Everyone is going through something.

We’re all just trying our best."

Okay, Anson (I like your name, by the way). I haven’t even heard any music yet, and from these words, I’ve already decided I’m going to listen to the whole song.

This is not a rock anthem. It will not provide you opportunities to cathartically scream or bust out an air-guitar solo. However, make no mistake; this is an anthem, and if you’re going through some kind of pain, it will help you.

“Time Will Heal It” — Okay, But What About Now?

We all know that moment when something breaks you. You receive the news that alters your life in some way. It catches you off guard. Your body transitions in seconds from normalcy to fight-or-flight.

Your stomach rises to your throat, your ribs tighten around your lungs and suddenly, air is hard to come by. Maybe we cry. Maybe we buckle over, instinctively protecting the place where our heart lives. Maybe we open our mouths and no sound comes out (or a lot of sounds come out). If we’re unlucky, maybe we’re in an environment where we can’t do any of that.

How many of us have tried to keep it together because we feel like we have to? (I’ll raise my hand). How many of us have had friends, family, or loved ones say those age-old words

“ Time will heal it”….?

I know these words are meant to be comforting, but the problem I’ve always had with them is that they don’t address the pain of the present moment. Your body is in shock. You can’t think about a time down the road when it’ll be back to normal because that’s not your immediate experience. (After all, you can’t see a sunset when you’re in a windowless room). My response to the phrase has been, and continues to be, “I know, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting right now.”

In this time, the song sits with you. Listen to the first minute and a half:

“…I don’t know the perfect road to go down

But I know I’m trying my best

I’m trying my best to be okay but it’s so hard.”

Of course we know that time heals. What we don’t know is how long that will take and how we’re going to get there, to that place of being okay. The many unknowns make the situation overwhelming. Here, Anson Seabra understands. He acknowledges that working towards being okay is difficult, and sometimes, that’s all we need to hear.

"I Let It Out So I Unburden My Soul"

In the video, you’re introduced to other people with their own cue cards:

“Hi. My name is Dave.”

“Hi. My name is Maxton.”

“Hi. My name is Kaycee.”

And then, along with many more from all walks of life, they give you their stories:

“ I have ADHD and I teach 22 kids every day.”

“I’m a veteran and I struggle with PTSD.”

“I’m a single dad to a 9-year old girl.”

Suddenly, they’re not strangers. You know their names. Every one of them is going through their own struggle, each one different from the next. Some of the experiences might even resonate with you, because you’ve lived them. Even if that’s not the case, there’s a beauty here that cannot be ignored in the unifying similarity.

Here’s the Kicker….

All of these people understand those initial moments of fight-or-flight, when the physiological response takes over. And while you can only ever know your own pain, there’s a comfort in this: we all know what that first emotional pain is like in the body, and how difficult it is to get through. In that way, we are connected, strong, and human.

Anson Seabra released this song in December of 2019, before this hydra that is 2020 had a chance to rear its many, fire-breathing heads. I have no way of knowing if this is true, but it’s almost as though he knew that we were all going to need this (Thank you, Anson!!!).

Undoubtedly, it’s a crazy time we’re living in, and that doesn’t even begin to explain it. For those of us who are isolated, our individual struggles may seem insurmountable. The world is changing rapidly around us for the worse and for the better, in unrelenting chaos.

But please. Know this.

For You

Hi. My name is Taryn. I’m a young woman living in Canada. I’m sad for a world, and differently sad for myself. I know that someday, I’m going to have one heck of a story to tell the grandkids, but for right now, I’m trying my best to be okay.

And to you,

I see you.

I hear you.

And wherever you are in your healing process, Anson Seabra and I are with you.