One Year into a Pandemic: What is Life?

I was three months into my new position as a content marketing manager at the company I had been with for two years. The position was brand new to our company, and I loved the work that I was doing. Every day came with a new challenge, but it was very rewarding.

It was a particularly productive Thursday at the office. I had written and edited several articles for the company blog, and I was jamming to the DOOM (2016) soundtrack.

Then the head of the HR department stepped into my office, shut the door behind her, and told me that my new position was being eliminated because the CEO didn’t believe it necessary, that my previous position in the company had already been eliminated in order to downsize, and that I was being let go as a result. It was March 12, 2020 — the day before the Covid-19 pandemic ramped up in the U.S.

To say that I was completely devastated feels like an understatement. Things in my life were looking up. I had just landed a job seemingly tailored to me that paid a decent wage and that I actually enjoyed. My fiancée and I were discussing a date for a wedding. I finally had the means to live the life that I always wanted.

That afternoon, I took a few hours to dust myself off from the initial shock and started looking for work. Having worked at a daily newspaper and still being religious about keeping up with the news, I knew that Covid would be a huge factor in job hunting. But I don’t think I, nor the rest of the world, could have ever anticipated how the next year would pan out.

For me, it was a year filled with loss and the deepest depression I have ever faced. Every opportunity I chased seemed to be just beyond my reach. I spent nine months unemployed, separated from my friends and family for fear of catching the virus — or even worse: giving the virus to them — alone in my house with no one but my cat to keep me company. The only time I got to see my family was at my grandmother’s funeral, and even then, we didn’t get to properly mourn together.

Those nine months are mostly a blur. I’m not sure if it’s because I rarely left the house or because I was so deeply consumed by my grief. I’ve known grief before. I lost my mother when I was 16 years old. It fundamentally changed who I became as a person. But somehow this was worse.

Maybe it was because my family could come together to grieve and comfort each other when my mom died but couldn’t for my grandmother? Maybe it was losing a mother figure for a second time? Maybe it was the existential dread that this pandemic brought on? Maybe it was the overwhelming loss of human life that surrounded us? Maybe it was the evil and corruption at every level of the American government? Maybe it was the feeling of hopelessness and utter despair? Maybe it was all of these things and more. Whatever the cause, I know that I’m still grieving, that I am still in a battle with depression on a daily basis, and that I have a long way to go.

I have lived alone for years now. I’ve enjoyed the independence and the peace of mind it’s given me. I never had a problem with living on my own. Until this past year.

I have never felt so alone in all my life as I have living alone through this pandemic.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. I was home 24/7, which meant spending less money — very important for someone who was newly unemployed. And in the first few months, I was able to see some friends and loved ones (and yes, we were overly cautious about it). But the visits stopped after my grandmother died. The only person I saw was my fiancée, and that was very sporadic. We would see each other once every few weeks, always quarantining before and after visits. But even that stopped once I found a source of income that required daily interaction with the general public.

Yes, I get daily human interaction, which is more than can be said of others, but it isn’t with those that matter the most. And sure, my loved ones and I talk on the phone, have Discord calls and whatnot, but a video call does not substitute for real, physical human interaction.

I miss being able to hug my family and friends. I miss holding my fiancée’s hand and kissing her face. I miss the family meals together and staying at my best friend’s house for the weekend. I miss seeing a movie at the theater, seeing my favorite bands perform live at concerts, and going to conventions and celebrating the geeky goodness that my fellow nerds and I bond over.

And I know I’m not unique in that. We as human beings crave interaction with our fellow man. It’s a very human thing to be missing these things, and it is a misery that we all share in this moment. There’s an odd sort of comfort in that we are not alone in these feelings.

And modern technology really is a lifesaver. Although we can’t be together in person, we can still see each other and communicate almost instantaneously through the Internet — something we couldn’t do just a few decades ago. I think I truly would go insane if it weren’t for the ability to video chat with friends and family.

So, where am I now? Where am I in relation to where I’ve been this past year? What does life look like now?

Well, needless to say, it’s very different. But some things are improving.

As I just mentioned, I do have employment now. It pays the bills, and until I can find better opportunities that are more fulfilling, that’s exactly what I need.

As of this writing, I have received the first dose of the Moderna Covid-19 vaccine and have the second shot scheduled in a month. My fiancée and her family are scheduled to receive their vaccinations as well, so once we are all fully vaccinated, we can finally begin to see each other again — something I am over the moon about.

Although this year has been wrought with challenges, including being away from each other for months on end, my fiancée and I have never been closer, and our relationship is stronger than it’s ever been. We will have been together for five years as of March 20, 2021, and soon we’ll actually be able to celebrate together.

The sense of optimism that permeates the country now that there is a viable vaccine for the virus is hard to ignore. Don’t get me wrong — there is no denying that we have a long way to go before things are completely normal again. There are people that still deny the very existence of the virus, even after more that half a million Americans have died from Covid-19 or related complications. It’s going to take a miracle to convince these people that a vaccination is necessary. But the fact that there is a vaccine now gives me hope — something that has been very hard to come by.

So, what’s next? Where do I — where do we — go from here?

In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think anyone can fully answer that. Life will return to the way it was before the pandemic one day. When that day will come is really the question, but I firmly believe it is a “when,” not an “if.” And even when things do go back to normal, I believe normal will be a relative term. We’ve been living in these conditions for a year, and it isn’t over yet. Will masks be a new normal? Is Covid here to stay? Will we have to get vaccinated once a year like getting a flu shot? These are questions for someone a lot smarter than I am.

I do have faith that we will all be able to see each other again, that we’ll be able to embrace our loved ones again, and that we will be able to heal together soon. Maybe not tomorrow, next week, or next month. But soon.

As for what’s next for me, I’m just going to keep going. For a while now, I’ve felt like I’m just treading water, and honestly, that’s okay. I’m still here, and that’s the important thing. If anything, this pandemic has taught me patience and perseverance. I have to put in the work to be where I want to be. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it in the end.

At the same time, I am also trying to grasp the concept that my productivity and work do not determine my self-worth. I shouldn’t beat myself up because I’m not meeting my own impossibly high expectations right now. And I can’t let that get in the way of trying to get where I want to be either. It’s a hard lesson for someone like me who has tied their successes to their self-worth in the past. But I’m here, and I’m learning day by day to forgive myself, to be kind to myself, and to love myself again.

I’ll get there eventually. We all will. Until then, we have to keep going.