New Beginnings

The Covid-19 pandemic swept over my life like a tsunami following a faulty warning system. I was, like countless others, unprepared in every aspect of the word. But where I was before the pandemic is infinitely less important than where I am presently, and even less significant than where I will be when I come out the other end of it.

Everyone will have a pandemic story. In a country that values individualistic attitudes and freedoms, we have had to take a long, hard look at how we collectively dealt with the mighty blow. What resulted from this was the awareness that our great nation is full of more inequity than imagined, public health emerged to the foreground, surpassing the previous narrow focus on what is now perceived as mundane, selfish, petty, and insignificant. It no longer mattered what your plans were for 2020 (and beyond). We all felt the ire and despair of realizing we have less control than we thought.

Where did this leave me? One in millions, scrambling to cope with the notion of formulating a new plan to counter this new normal. Initially, it was to remain frozen in suspended animation. Months ticked by. An early childhood business I had grown from seed to garden was now a barren wasteland. Like too many, forced shut-downs and unrequited requests for help led me down a rabbit hole of emotions. Fear led to reflection, reflection to growth. And after a tedious personal battle with myself, I emerged with a new concept of life. My pre-pandemic consumerism, attitudes and lack of clarity on what is important was shed like the cumbersome coat of a bighorn sheep.

My life was important before. But aspects of it were not. I learned through this experience to care more for others, to approach my community in a way that showed unity. Whether that meant wearing a mask, not hoarding toilet paper when I knew others needed it more, donating to a charity I may have overlooked, and even using less because even Mother Earth's sickness that has been swelling for generations now felt more urgently in need of my attention. Feeling suddenly more fragile and vulnerable also inherently caused me to feel more human.

I, like many, can't go back. I can't go back, look back or take any of it back, and I won't try to. I am hopeful, and newly recharged and while I don't plan to thank this pandemic for any of it, I am grateful for the gratitude and personal growth that resulted. I started writing again after leaving my pen dormant for decades, too preoccupied, too busy. I rediscovered self-care. I took time to breathe, to walk in nature, to buy less and appreciate more. I left my pre-pandemic job behind, not because it was not important and fulfilling but because in this time of tumultuous change, it feels right to change big. I am a completely new person, scarred and flawed but full of renewed wonder. I am working toward a new job that will help the underserved, the forgotten, the at-risk, the high need. And if I am honored with an offer, I will work to serve and to love, not to bank and to spend. I look at others differently. I miss people in ways that I could never have imagined. I want to see them again, when it is safe. I want to share stories about our challenges and our growth when we were apart. I want to savor time the way I once savored material things and superficial experiences. Even my dogs look at me through a new lens- I am present, awake. More patient, more kind. And this is change I can accept, amidst so much I cannot.