Hindsight (Actually) Is 2020: Five Observations

Sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way in order to come back a short distance correctly.

—Edward Albee, Zoo Story

It’s been a year. I can remember being in Disneyworld with my kids and my ex-husband—we had successfully fulfilled our promise to our kids that we would take them back to that happy place, and perhaps more importantly illustrated to them (and to ourselves) that we could still be a family, even if it wasn’t the one we’d imagined we’d be. Disney was as open as ever, though we had heard by then of the mysterious Coronavirus. We didn’t have any idea how serious it would be or how fast things would change. There was not one mention of it during our week in Disney, not even one hand sanitization stand, although the place itself would be abruptly shut down the very next week. Just last night my eldest child, Cate, now 16, said, “It’s hard to believe it was a year ago. You know, that was the first time I ever saw anyone wear a mask.” We all solemnly nodded, remembering—it was at the airport, as we were about to come home. We didn’t have masks. We certainly didn’t think we’d be wearing them. None of us became sick despite the fact that we were traveling around and standing in long lines right next to complete strangers from around the world. We also weren’t particularly worried about it. We had no idea how lucky we were.

When we got home, the kids didn’t go back to school. What we imagined was a temporary situation became permanent. We all had our own masks sewn for us by a loving and industrious friend, and we all donned them for a picture that we figured would be one for the books. That was before we all became mask aficionados, knowing precisely which ones we’d like best. It was before it would seem weirder not to see someone masked in public places. We never thought we’d still be wearing them all this time later. But we know better now—we expect to be wearing them for some time to come. Of course it hardly seems to matter now—just a small thing in a year that’s been full of big lessons. Because, for me, anyway, 2020 had very little to do with Covid-19, but it had everything to do with the things I learned from it. For me, the year really started in March, and I’d like to end it here. This is my return to writing, and in some ways, my return to myself. I’m embarrassed to think of how long I’ve been gone and how far away I had to go. But sometimes life is that way. I hope I’m a better person for it, and this particular blog will simply be a reflection of the lessons I learned in 2020.

Observation One: A Loving Reminder—We’re Not Getting Out Alive

One of the focuses of the pandemic seems to have been the reality of death—who is most vulnerable, who isn’t, what precautions should be taken, what risks are okay—and how we might cheat it. Perhaps my outlook is shaped by my childhood trauma, but all of this struck me as so odd. We are all going to die—it’s a simple fact that many people appear to not have really considered in terms of themselves or the people they love. The amazing part of the human condition is how we manage to carefully avoid facing the fact of death, so that when we have to face it, we act like it’s the most unexpected, supreme injustice. We surround ourselves with coffee mugs and motivational posters that remind us to be grateful and live for today, but we wink at the notion that today is really all we might have. Again and again I witnessed people grappling with the very real possibility of death and all the anger, resentment, and fear that stems from it.

Observation Two: We Get to Choose What Rules Us

Positive psychology tells us that although there is much in life that we can’t control, we can control where we place our attention. We can curse the darkness or embrace the light. The interesting part is that we can (and probably should) do both. People seemed to be putting a lot of pressure on themselves to embrace the light when they didn’t feel like it, a farce that became tougher to keep going the longer lockdowns stretched on. I saw how some people got stuck in the “be positive” mode, even as they seemed to spiral downward into a “just be” state of mind. Others became transfixed by the concept of grieving—that we are all grieving, that these are unprecedented hard times, that we should not expect much of ourselves right now. It’s certainly true that we should allow ourselves to feel whatever feelings we have, but it’s also important to explore our other options. The lockdown doesn’t extend to our personal growth—there’s plenty of room for that, even in the smallest of spaces.

Observation Three: What We Tell Ourselves Matters

Everybody has a pandemic story—everybody. It’s this unique time that we are all going through together. And although your experience might be very different from the next person’s, we can accept that all of our experiences are valid. They all matter. And what we tell ourselves about our experience (and other people’s) matters, too. We all experience the world differently; that’s why we can all look at the same sky and see something different. It’s part of what makes the human experience magical. It’s also why we disagree about how we see things like masks, vaccines, rallies, and restrictions. Instead of approaching these differences with curiosity and a quest for understanding one another better, we are often more interested in judging people who view things differently from us. We can remind ourselves to ask questions, to exercise our empathy, because our stories are simply one way of experiencing the world at this time.

Observation Four: It Takes Courage to Hope

2020 was a year full of fear. It was unfamiliar and unpredictable, which made it scary. Many people chose to let the fear rule them—and what happens when people choose fear is that they become smaller. They contract. Possibilities shrink. I was reminded of this time and time again as people clawed through the uncertainty to find anything they could actually count on again. Some people went back to old habits. Others went back to toxic relationships. Many who could simply went back home. Some people did all three at once! We—all of us—were literally stuck. But the thing that seemed to unstick me was hope. And I wasn’t alone—hope comes in lots of forms: science, leadership, spirituality, love. And hope helps us expand—it opens up the possibilities again. It allows us to consider that even if we don’t know what’s coming next, maybe it’s better than what is.

Observation Five: We Can Choose To Live Now

Some people spend their whole lives trying to prolong it instead of trying to live it. This is a losing proposition. Life is meant to be lived—now. But it’s also meant to be lived with purpose. So it’s not about throwing caution to the wind and living recklessly, but instead it’s about figuring out how to make it mean something outside of ourselves. How can we shape our stories to somehow improve the stories of others? Can we choose a path that positively impacts the world? Is there a way to reach outside ourselves to connect with something larger? People all over the world have had their world shrink, just like yours and mine, but this shrinking has also joined us together in an experience that none of us are likely to forget. Each day, regardless of where we are (or where we wish we were), we can ask ourselves this question: What choices can I make today that will make this life more worth living?

There was no perfect vision in 2020. But it’s behind us now.

In hindsight, I was expecting big things to happen in 2020. It seemed for a little while that maybe it was shaping up to be the year I was waiting for—but in reality it was the year where plans crumbled, disappointment reigned supreme, and I was forced, finally, to see things as they were, not as I wanted them to be. As it turns out, that reckoning with the truth actually was a big thing that happened. I took off my rose-colored glasses, for sure, but I could still have a glass of sparkling rosé. I was alone often, but I learned how not to be lonely. I felt despair many times, but I expanded my already-high capacity for joy and fulfillment. The most important thing that happened for me in 2020 was that I swapped out the notion of lockdown with lift-up. I am staying put not because I have to, but because it’s where I am choosing to be, day in and day out. I will make my own luck, and I will make this life as enjoyable as possible for everyone around me.