New Beginnings

Everyone grows and changes as time passes; we all become different versions of ourselves at different times for different reasons in different environments. For me, though, there is a distinct separation. A distinct change. Clearly separated, there’s a me before the pandemic hit and a me after. What happened in between is what created such distinction.

I am a true extrovert. I may seem reserved at first, but I love being around people. I love having deep conversations, learning new things, and just experiencing life with others. Not just around them, but with them. Sharing experiences. Working creatively. Exploring new ideas—you get the picture. Prior to the pandemic, I worked not one but two retail jobs, I was a full-time student, and I participated in extracurricular activities. My schedule was loaded and I had never been happier. My entire day was spent conversing with others, learning about the world around me, and building meaningful connections. I had this sort of innate joy within myself. Even on my worst days, I had this joy because the world and people around me felt so brilliant and I was so excited to see what each new day would bring.

Then, the pandemic hit. The lockdown happened. I know many people loved it (the lockdown, obviously, not the pandemic). I did not. It was the most isolating time of my life. Because of my busy schedule, I had very few close friends to begin with, but those friendships ended during the pandemic. Though they may have bounced back temporarily or for a time, they ended. I made suggestions about going to get coffee separately, meeting in a parking lot, playing music out our windows, and doing a group FaceTime call, so we could remain safe while still spending time together. That never happened. I became depressed. Truly, truly depressed. I lost my sense of self. I don’t remember a distinct moment of change, but I do remember the moment I noticed it. I was back at a retail job, and one of the customers told a friend that I “looked like a bitch.” A few things: I don’t think anyone would have said this out loud, at least not before the pandemic; I would have felt so heartbroken if they had; I never would have accepted it—I would have tried to prove them wrong. I didn’t. I thought to myself, ‘Good. Because I am one.’ I wasn’t. The version I’d become wanted to be one, though. Wanted to be edgy, harsh, perhaps angry. Once restrictions were fully lifted, I decided to pursue fashion journalism as it was something I had always wanted to do. Yet, despite the fact I was doing something I enjoyed and dreamed of, part of me still felt unhealed. Maybe it was the trauma of constantly being isolated and worried about my well-being and the well-being of those around me. I don’t know. I just know there was this spark within me that never seemed to truly light up all the way. To be clear, I have had so many wonderful moments of joy! I met and married the love of my life. I launched a fashion publication that I was able to interview and collaborate with so many wonderfully creative people on. I’ve taken road trips. Shared in celebrations. Built new community. And there has been joy in all of those things. But my spark was still not quite there yet. For my day job, I was working, isolated, in an office. I tried retail again briefly, but customers weren’t the same. They no longer wanted to talk, they just wanted to either look around or buy what they were after and get out; they had no interest in or patience for conversation. The best work I’d done on the publication was when others worked on it with me, or at least sat in the same room while I discussed my ideas for it. Despite these attempts to regain . . . whatever exactly it was that was missing, it was like part of me had dwindled and drifted away. I didn’t know where to find that part, and it hurt, because most of the time, it felt like the most important part.

That brings us to now. I have just started graduate school and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made. On a conscious level, I wanted to further my education so that I can work to help preserve literature and have greater opportunity to work with human rights and environmental conservation organizations. On a subconscious level, I think I wanted to reignite that spark and I think part of me knew that going back to school would be the ignition that could do it.

Maybe it’s the combination of sunshine and exercise, walking across campus multiple times a day, racking up anywhere from 2-5 miles of walk time. Maybe it’s reading new material, learning new concepts, and discovering new ways of thinking. Maybe it’s not just being around people, but once again being with people—journeying down this path of education together. Maybe it’s because I, once again, have two jobs and both involve engaging the public in ways that warrant deeper conversations. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things (I think it’s a combination of all these things). Either way, I’m finally getting that spark back. I can feel it growing stronger each day now. I am noticing ways of thinking I picked up during the lockdown that are deprecating and filled with self-doubt. I am able to call them out. I know I still have more growing to do to get this spark back fully, but I am so grateful to have this part of me again. And that combined with all the blessings and joyous moments I’ve experienced since? Well, I’m excited to meet the version of me that I’m becoming.