This week marks the one-year anniversary of the coronavirus pandemic. One year since we began saying goodbye to loved ones; one year since we last saw some of our closest family and friends; one year since we first heard the term “social distancing;” and one year since we started saying on a regular basis, “I can’t wait until this is all over.”
In a year, COVID-19 has taken the lives of 2.6 million people worldwide, including half a million human beings in the United States. One in three Americans have lost a loved one to the virus, and many of those who have survived are still experiencing symptoms. The virus has wreaked havoc on both those who have contracted it and those who have been lucky enough to avoid it. From our mental health and our bank accounts to our relationships and our future plans, this pandemic has robbed so many of so much and leaves us here now, one year later, wondering, what’s next?
Sure there’s a vaccine many have been able to receive and many more will get in the months ahead, but what about after that? What does “normal” look like in the months and years that follow a global pandemic? What do we do now?
In everything I write about related to the pandemic, I always think it’s worth noting that although we’ve dealt with our fair share of heartache this last year, my immediate family and I have remained COVID-free, gainfully employed, and relatively content. I have exclusively worked from home for 360 consecutive days now and my son returned to in-person learning in September. Any pain and suffering we have had to endure this year pales in comparison to what so many have had to face, and I try to remind myself to remain both cognizant of and grateful for our privilege every day.
My circumstances, I realize, are why it’s much easier for me to say there are things I’ve experienced this last year that I truly hope don’t end when we finally remove our masks and resume asking strangers to use our phones to take our photos in crowded public places.
First up is being home as soon my 9-year-old son finishes school. Van’s school is less than a 10-minute walk from our house, yet until this academic year, we’ve always had to arrange for after school care because neither Rod nor I were able to be home by 2:30 p.m. When we would pick him up from after-care pre-COVID, we were all rushed to get home to tackle the evening’s to do list, which always included a host of joyless tasks that could only be completed after 6 p.m. There was no quality time on weekday evenings and, if there was, it meant pushing something off until the next day that would surely give me more anxiety than what I thought it was worth.
Now, Van walks to and from school every day and I get to see him when every child is at their happiest - right after the bell rings. We chat for a bit, he does his homework, I finish my work, and then we go for a nice long walk where we talk about our days and generally and genuinely enjoy one another’s company. Sometimes, when the weather is too cold to go out, we read, but the time together is just the same. There is no rushing; no worries about what still needs to be done. Just good one-on-one time that I still cannot believe took a global pandemic to achieve as a working woman.
There’s also my own routine, which I’ve given myself the freedom to adjust as necessary on any given day. While I’ve always thrived on routine, pre-pandemic, I was becoming so rigid that I was both unkind to my family and unforgiving to myself if every last thing wasn’t finished in a set timeframe arbitrarily established by me. This would inevitably lead to fights and regular bouts of anxiety and depression that I didn’t realize were an issue until I was at home full-time seeing, right in front of me, the forgiveness embedded in each hour and the meaninglessness of so many tasks.
Similar to my time with Van, this newfound freedom in my everyday routine can also be attributed to my working from home full-time where I can fully integrate what must be done for work with what must be done at home. I realize some people cannot live life this way - intertwining work with chores and answering emails in between - so I can’t advocate on behalf of this lifestyle for everyone. But what I can say is, for me, combining the two into just one life versus a life at home and a life in the office has truly benefited both my mental health and the happiness of my family.
My current mental stability, oddly found at a time when I know so many are barely hanging on, has also led to a variety of additional benefits in my marriage and in my home. One of my best friends recently told me her relationship has never been stronger and that the pandemic has given her a sense of security, joy, and ease she now sees as unbreakable. The same applies to me and Rod. Now that I’m enjoying more one-on-one time with Van and fortifying my work and home life balance, I have come to truly appreciate, look forward to, and delight in the time I spend with my husband. Not only do we talk and laugh (which we’ve always been able to do), we also work on house projects and set new goals, and plan together. In the last 12 months we have organized every square inch of our home. Not one cupboard, closet, or storage space has gone untouched, and not one item remains that should have been donated. We’ve completed minor home renovations, redecorated rooms, and made plans for much larger projects this summer. We have solidified our standing as a team and I credit the pandemic for providing us this time to make that part of us work.
I wrote last September about Life on Mars, about the path to finding my way back to me six months into the pandemic. Now, six months later, I think I’m finally there. I do hope many things will return to the way they once were, I really do. I desperately miss live music and worriless vacations with my friends. I miss long meals at restaurants and seeing my dear colleagues in person. I also miss standing mindlessly in line at the grocery store without questioning why the guy in front of me still can’t figure out how to wear his mask over his nose.
What I don’t miss though are the barriers to spending more time with my son or the unrealistic expectations I set for myself and my family. I don’t miss the time I spent in a car running to and from work or all the other places I “had to” be. I don’t miss not having my house in order or the goal-setting bonds that were still not yet fully formed with my husband. These things I will not miss, but what’s replaced them are the things I will fight to keep intact even when “this” is all finally over.
P.S. Dearest David Bowie, you did it again. I turned and faced the strange and found it wasn’t that bad.
