The Lonely Year

Roughly a year ago our world changed unexpectedly. Many of us didn't realize it at the time, but our two week stay-cation would turn into a year long global existential crisis. With cases and casualties on the decline, we may soon be on the other side of this crisis, but it's hard to imagine anyone isn't scarred in some way by the previous year. I wanted to write this as a post-mortem for the year, and try to, in some small way, turn the shit into something useful, even if it only serves as a reminder to appreciate life.

the beginning

I had moved in to my new place 9 months before the world shut down. It was the first time I'd ever lived by myself. "Maybe I'll get a roommate in a year", I thought. Turns out I did get some roommates, they just happened to be glass bottles of brown liquids that I stored in my mid-century bar. They were good company but not very talkative. Impeccable timing for solo living aside, I think I was hopeful at the beginning to be out of action for only a few weeks. Surely this wouldn't be as bad as they were saying.

I remember the last time I went out. My brother was in town. We went to Dino's and Mickey's, a couple of East Nashville dives that presented a viral threat even pre-COVID. I really miss the feeling of hanging up my jacket and smelling the bar on it the next day. Shortly after, we started to see the shutdowns: bars and restaurants, schools, churches, retail stores, the major sports leagues and live entertainment. Going to get groceries was a unique experience. I remember walking the aisles, seeing the shelves cleared of pantry staples and frozen foods. It was like a scene from an apocalypse film, where the store was picked clean and nature was beginning to reclaim the building. "I hope I can make something decent with chorizo, bacon, and this soup mix," I wondered. It was good that I had purchased toilet paper before the shutdown, or I would've been on a shit-shower plan for a few months.

I remember the first time I wore a mask in public. Sitting in the parking lot of Kroger, fumbling around in my attempt to affix the cloth to my face. I had purchased reusable masks on Etsy, which were nice enough. It felt weird, like I was doing something wrong. But it was exactly what needed to be done.

My job was slowly changing. I had worked from home for over 6 years, so my day-to-day routine didn't really change. The product I helped manage was used for live events and trade shows. Obviously, the requests for change and support started to decrease. Fortunately, my job was never in danger. It's a perk of working for a large corporation that didn't solely rely on revenue from in-person events. Not everyone is as fortunate as I am, for which I am still grateful.

The beginning. I hate that it wasn't just a short moment in time. It's going to stay with me forever.

not ready to meet the moment

"The new normal". "We're all in this together." The buzzwords and refrains from marketing departments trying to sell you on their delivery systems, virtual features, and streaming services were the dominating milieu. Meanwhile, many people were suffering: loss of a job, loss of family members they couldn't visit in the hospital, loss of social services and lifelines for many were cut off in the name of public health. No help was coming. Millions of people, sitting at home, unable to work, were slamming F5 on their keyboards, trying to sign up for unemployment benefits on an overwhelmed site built with COBOL 30 years prior. The government, as nimble as a sloth wearing a weighted vest, seemed only concerned with meat packing plants remaining open and formulating CYA liability shields for mega corps.

Where was the concern for working people? This is, of course, rhetorical. The country's economy was succeeding in propping up the class it was designed to enrich. In a time when a majority of people could not afford a sudden 600$ expense, surely they could find their way out of this pandemic, right? While first-world democracies around the globe mobilized to provide support for working people and solidify their public health infrastructures, the U.S. was sending medical bills for tests and treatments to families whose landlords were lined up outside of courthouses, ready to evict. Finally, after months, a compromise was reached, in the form of a single 1200$ check. A drop in the bucket for the suffering. Rent was still due.

We couldn't even agree on this being a public health emergency. For many conservatives in power, the true travesty of our day was the economy being closed. Grandma and grandpa were willing to sacrifice themselves at the altar of Capital, they would exclaim. With COVID being roughly 5 times deadlier than the flu (source), the comparisons were made often, and to this day have yet to cease. Large groups of people refused to comply with health guidelines, and we got sicker. A lot sicker.

Thank God for the frontline workers, doctors, nurses, and hospital workers. They were the only ones ready for the moment, and our society and government failed them.

the winter of my discontent

Image Source

I think about the image above a lot. Wearing a mask in and of itself is no heroic deed, but as a collective action it is most certainly heroic. The science behind mask wearing is conclusive (source), yet for many it is an inconvenience that cannot infringe upon their God-given rights. Many of those who believe this also believe most collective action is totalitarian: universal single payer healthcare, universal basic income (even during time of crisis), workers unions, etc. But in our modern day where few hold the levers of power in our society, collective action is the greatest tool in our tool belt for improving people's lives.

The isolation, while completely necessary, is taking its toll. Not just on me, but on so many. The state of mental health in the U.S. pre-COVID was bad, and it's only gotten worse. For many, there is no recourse for mental health therapy, at least for therapy that can't be bought in a store. Those who champion American healthcare are quick to point out that our healthcare is not rationed. While technically true, healthcare is functionally rationed: by wealth. It's past time that we removed these barriers for care.

I've not been perfect. When the economy opened in my area in 2020 I made visits to certain establishments and the homes of family and friends. I've tried to stay at safe distances and wear my mask when appropriate. We weren't meant to permanently live alone, even during troubled times like this. I look forward to my life post-vaccine. I miss hugs.

I will think of this year in many ways. In a lot of ways, it is the lonely year. The year when our conversations were digital, and our screens were the gateway to community. But it is also the year that made me realize even more the importance of collective action. This is the year of solidarity: with health workers, with essential workers, with social and criminal justice activists, with climate activists, and those that seek to promote the welfare of our communities through collective action.

always the optimist

Let's get something useful out of the shit sandwich that was 2020. I've had a lot of time to think about what is wrong, but I'm not one to dwell on the negatives without trying to learn and improve. How do we possibly turn this into something good? For many, there won't be smiles for a long time. Many will be left longing for the treasured soul that was taken by this awful scourge.

When the world opens back up to a more normal cadence, we must be ready. We must learn and grow from this. Here are some things that I hope stay with me for a long time:

Be ready to forgive, and forgive without hesitation. For many of us, we have lost touch this year with family and friends. It may be over a calendar year since you have even seen them. Be willing to forgive, and forgive those that don't deserve your forgiveness.

Be ready to give, and give generously. We've all seen the suffering. The videos of lines of cars miles long, queued up for food donations. There are still millions without jobs. We must be ready to give, time and money, to those that are in need. While charity is good, we must also fight to fix the broken system that deprives so many people from basic needs like food, water, shelter, and health care.

Be ready to engage, and engage meaningfully. I think we've all had enough time in front of screens this year to last a lifetime. When we all meet again, maskless, let's put the phones away and engage with sincerity. Be present with the people you care about.

Be ready to live, and live intentionally. Be the one that initiates connections with others. Get involved in community programs and charities. Go visit new places. You never know when life can hit the pause button.

the new-new normal

I haven't wanted to do the dishes much lately. I say lately, like I've ever really wanted to. I tell myself it's for my own mental health, like living in filth is part of some kind of self care routine. The forgiveness I talked about earlier needs to extend to myself as well. In the lonely year, it has taken a considerable effort to stay sane. I consider myself one of the lucky and privileged ones, and it's still been the most difficult year of my life.

The light is visible at the end of the tunnel. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Be involved in making the lives of others better. And if you have to be lonely for the sake of others, just know that you aren't really alone. Let's make it better together when the venues are full and the ICUs are empty.