What the Pandemic Has Taught Me About Myself: Reflecting on the Past Year

A couple of days ago I got a message from a girl that was one year below me at college saying that she is starting to study for her final oral exam at the university I graduated from last May. That’s when it hit me: it’s been about one year since the pandemic began.

At this time last year, I was in London for my spring break with plans to fly back to West Palm Beach in a couple days and finish the spring semester of my last year of undergrad. One year ago, I was adventurous, and social. I was filled with energy and liveliness. I did not know what it felt like to be blindsided, and I did not know that I didn’t know. I felt unhinged from all restraints at that time in my life. I felt a sense of certainty that I could go out and create. I had qualifications, a loving boyfriend, a supportive family, a newfound curiosity for and love of the world’s vastness. It seemed like nothing could stop me.

I did not know what it felt like to be blindsided, and I did not know that I didn’t know. I felt unhinged from all restraints at that time in my life. I felt a sense of certainty that I could go out and create.

A year later, a lot has changed. I’m inactive, isolated, and hyper aware of how little I have control over. The pandemic has seen me act out in poorly directed frustration at the ones I love. It has seen crying, loneliness, loss of motivation and the feeling that my life has lost its purpose and meaning. There were days of isolation to my small 10x10ft room that lost the meaning of the passage of time: when you do nothing productive, the hours and days blur together because there’s no progress or interaction to measure the time with. This past year has seen more neglect for self-care, more toxic self-indulgence, and less kindness and patience than any other period of time in my life. As much as there is a sense of fulfillment in knowing that we are all abiding by the rules to keep one another safe in a time of hardship, there is a deep longing for the days when I felt I could go anywhere and do anything at the drop of a hat.

This past year has seen more neglect for self-care, more toxic self-indulgence, and less kindness and patience than any other period of time in my life.

I miss the old me. I miss the world and it’s buzzing chaos. And while the old me might have found a way to sound positive about it all, the new me knows better. This pandemic has been a really difficult time to live through, the hardest of my life. It’s taught me a lot of things that were heavy to learn. So to commemorate one year since the world temporarily closed, I’ve compiled some lessons that I learned during COVID-19.

I’ve absorbed that I am a very privileged person.

My life in the pandemic has still not scratched the surface of the suffering that others face on a daily basis. While I believe that people’s emotions are reality to them and, therefore, valid, I also think perspective is important. My sensitivity to the hardships of others has been amplified in ways that it was not before the pandemic. The rise of the BLM movement as well as anti-Asian sentiment spewed by the Trump administration and pathetically “justified” by the pandemic really contributed to waking me up to the injustices of the world. Coming out of this past year, I’m more aware of the existence of struggle. It’s a heavy kind of knowledge, and a necessary one. I acknowledge my privilege, and am impassioned not to let it blind me, but to let it provoke action against injustice.

Coming out of this past year, I’m more aware of the existence of struggle. It’s a heavy kind of knowledge, and a necessary one.

I’ve learned that positivity can be incredibly toxic.

And I say this gently. Of course when people attempt to be positive in difficult situations it is born of good intention, but it’s important to acknowledge that this past year has been traumatic and damaging for many. There is a sense of pressure and superficiality that comes with always looking for the good. To ignore the weight of how the pandemic has altered our lives is unhealthy. Social media can especially perpetuate these expectations of continuing to lead a life of highlights, but the truth is, life sucks right now. And we’re not alone in our loneliness and sadness.

…it’s important to acknowledge that this past year has been traumatic and damaging for many. There is a sense of pressure and superficiality that comes with always looking for the good.

I’ve learned that “living for the future” isn’t living at all.

For the majority of this past year, I’ve constantly had my eyes set on things I’m looking forward to in the future. I thought almost-exclusively about post-pandemic things. Towards the beginning of the pandemic I would spend hours designing save the dates, wedding invitations, RSVP cards, looking for bridesmaid and mother-of-the-bride dresses, searching for apartments in Florida, scouring the IKEA website for furniture I like, and the list goes on. For a while, that was a welcome distraction for me because I was able to escape from my current circumstances for a few hours. But after a while, it became clear that this wasn’t really leaving me satisfied. In the end, it was all imaginary. None of it had any effect on my life as it currently existed. Living for the future meant that I lost the opportunity to live in those present moments. It left me emptier than ever.

Living for the future meant that I lost the opportunity to live in those present moments.

One day, I spilled red wine on a blanket of mine and the stain was definitely not coming out. When Ed brought up getting a new one, I replied that I didn’t think I should because I was just going to leave it here when I left to go back to the states. In that moment, I realized that this reaction was a microcosm of the bigger circumstance: I was living a stained and run-down version of my present life because I was so focused on reaching the sparkling bright future. But this mindset brought me to an incredibly low point in my life. Even though my life circumstances are hard to bear right now, I would rather struggle through it than look back and realize that I denied my own life for a year and lost the chance to live it.

I’ve learned that I need support.

I’ve always been a fiercely independent person, sometimes (more often than I’d to admit) to my own detriment. I’m the type that would rather struggle through something on my own than admit that I need help. And this definitely was never more self-sabotaging of a trait than during the pandemic. Even in my loving relationship with Eduards where I find it easy to talk about almost anything, it is difficult for me to admit when I’m feeling especially down, or to want to talk through the reasons for why that is. But opening up and delving into those deep and murky waters almost always leaves me feeling better for the fact that someone understands where my head is and is aware of the fact that I am more vulnerable and in need of support because of it. Having a support system and not being afraid to put all of your weight on it when you feel like your dragging is more valuable to me now than it ever has been before. The pandemic has taught me, through painful methods, that I can’t do it all on my own, as much as I might try to.

…opening up and delving into those deep and murky waters almost always leaves me feeling better for the fact that someone understands where my head is and is aware of the fact that I am more vulnerable and in need of support because of it.

I’ve learned that though I’ve changed, I will be alive again.

This pandemic has changed me: it’s given me some of my most sad and most lonely days. And, while I’ll never be the person I was before COVID-19, I also know that there are parts of me that have lost their life breath during this pandemic that will come back to life. There is so much to do still, so much growth to undergo, so much hope to nurture. While it is important to acknowledge the loss of so many things that the pandemic has stolen, I also know that I have the strength in me to find motivation, find joy, and develop trust in life again.