A letter to 2020, our toxic ex
Dear 2020,
There are so many things I could say to you.
I could tell you how much you’ve taken away. How you’ve coerced change in my life. How you’ve forced me to cope with innumerable losses.
But to tell you the truth, I won’t. I won’t simply because you already know and need no reminding. Instead, I want to thank you. You gave me the gift of getting to know myself and testing the bedrock of my relationships. Solitude held a mirror up to my mental health and habits while loss exposed the depth of my grit and strength.
By the beginning of April, I was telling myself and my boyfriend that nervousness was just part of who I was. My panic when entering public spaces and terror over toilet paper shelves entirely barren were natural, because I was just an anxious person. This was the narrative I clung to year after year while I lay awake at night with anxiety in my belly and panic in my blood. It was my explanation when my friends suggested therapy. I convinced myself, and myself alone, that it was normal.
By May, lockdown had stripped away my excuses and forced me to face the fragile state of my mental health. I forced myself to ask for help. With both the benefit of hindsight and therapy, my friends were right to tell me to get help sooner. After eight months, I have strong coping mechanisms and ingrained healthy habits like daily exercise and meditation. Absent this pandemic, I’m not sure when I would have gotten help, and admitting that scares me to my core. Thank you for forcing me to address my mental health and take control of my happiness.
In August, I got the call I had mentally prepared for every day over the last five years. My grandfather passed away. While he is not a victim of COVID-19, he is a victim of this pandemic. His residency in a nursing home meant he lost contact with his wife and children, descending deeper into Alzheimer’s-fueled confusion and frustration. The end of his life was neither peaceful nor comfortable. His sudden death left me sobbing over memories of who he was and guilt over his quality of life.
After the initial shock, I held it together in a way that I didn’t know I had in me. I calmly called my boss, asked for time off, and closed out my projects. While my mom planned the funeral, I coordinated face masks, hand sanitizer, tissues, snacks, paper goods, and post-funeral catering. While helping cut down the to-do list, I still allowed myself to grieve and cry, especially once the distractions of the day was gone. The pain isn’t gone, and tears sting my eyes when I remember that I will never be able to say goodbye. However, the unique circumstances of this year forced me to measure the depth of my grit. Thank you for teaching me to recognize my own strength and embrace my vulnerability.
I sincerely wish we had not added this chapter to our collective history. However, it would be disingenuous if I looked back on 2020 and said it was all bad, because I would be ignoring how far I have come. Thank you for the growth opportunity I not only didn’t want, but didn’t ask for. Thank you for giving me the time to learn how to love myself and be grateful for every day, no matter what it holds.
Authentically,
Cate