Pandemic Reflections: One Year Later

 

Pandemic Reflections: One Year Later

It has been a year since the Covid pandemic descended on the world, I landed my dream job and wrote the blog post Post-Grad Part II. As one could imagine, a lot has happened in that time. I am happy to report that my dream job is still my dream job: I love working there and I know that I am contributing meaningfully to my communities, society and the world. I really feel that I am putting my education, professional and lived experience to good use and making a difference, as cliché as that sounds. That is very important to me and plays a big role in how I value myself: through my social contributions. While this world has always been a nightmare, between capitalism, imperialism, colonialism, racism, white supremacy, anti-Blackness, police brutality, etc., the Covid pandemic has been no different. It has (predictably) resulted in the deaths of mainly Black and Brown essential workers and demonstrated what people like me knew all along: that privileged Americans could care less what happens to marginalized people, as aptly demonstrated in this LA Times Op-Ed.  

It was not lost on me a year ago, having recently been an essential worker, what a bullet I had dodged by landing my dream office job right after the pandemic began. It was already apparent to me that essential workers, most of whom are Black, Brown and women (like me) would be the biggest casualties of the pandemic. And it was clear to me because I experienced how harrowing being an essential worker already was before the pandemic: it nearly killed me and that is not hyperbole. The meager wages, abusive workplace and unsafe working conditions took a toll on my mental and physical health and also endangered the clients we served (I was a caretaker for adults with intellectual and development disabilities). Additionally, as the pandemic progressed, I learned that adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities were at a heightened risk of contracting covid-19 due to structural inequities. The same structural inequities embedded in the care work industry for disabled individuals. The covid-19 pandemic highlighted how important care work is to society as more people that fell ill became disabled and couldn't work or take care of themselves completely anymore. It also highlighted what myself and others were saying before the pandemic: that society does not care about poor, fat, disabled, Black and Indigenous people. 

It feels rotten to look at the silver lining and the blessings this pandemic has bestowed upon me while so many others have suffered. I recognize the immense privilege being able to work from home has afforded me in the pandemic. The pandemic brought about the conditions that allowed me to become the healthiest I have ever been, spiritually, mentally and physically. I love working from home, not only because I am an introvert and excel when limiting interaction with others, but because it is less hassle: no waking up early to put on office clothes and battle traffic to and from work every day. I have more control over my schedule and how I use my time for the day. I can take walks and see my family and dog whenever I feel like it. Eventually, I realized I enjoyed the freedom the pandemic offered me in another way: the freedom of not interacting with others daily while being a plus-size Black woman. I read this blog post by a disabled woman who was reluctant for lockdown to end because she would be met by the myriad disparaging comments from people regarding her disability. I, too have experienced unfair judgment and discrimination from people based on how I look and this is an experience that I do not want back anytime soon. It is sad when you really think about it: how biased and unfair this society is towards certain groups. 

Something else happened during this pandemic that I am extremely grateful for: I had the space and solitude to work through unresolved issues. I continued therapy, which I started before the pandemic. I was really lucky in that the woman I hired as my therapist through Medi-Cal had great chemistry and gelled with me. It helped that she is a plus-size white woman; she didn't know everything, but our shared body type helped me connect with her. I healed from my tumultuous relationship that ended right before the pandemic began and the abandonment issues it brought up for me. I finally learned to let go of what is not meant for me and remain at peace with my relationship status. My therapist and I also worked through the PTSD-like symptoms I was experiencing due to the trauma of my essential worker job and other stressors prior to the pandemic. Basically, I finally learned lessons from past one-sided friendships and relationships. I have felt at peace and mentally well in a way I have never felt before. I have stayed off of Facebook for over a year now and it feels great. I owe these breakthroughs in part to therapy, the solitude of the pandemic and even just turning 27, which I've heard is when everything starts to make sense.

One of my favorite pastimes is to read autobiographies: there is something about the way people tell the stories of their lives that appeals to me. I find that these stories often contain gems and important life lessons. When I saw word of actress Rachel True's autobiography, "True Heart Intuitive Tarot" and the accompanying Tarot card deck on Twitter, I knew in my gut that this was for me and I needed to read it. I did not regret buying the book and recommended it to others and even bought another copy for a friend. Rachel True and I have similar experiences as "alternative" Black girls, which is why this book and even the films and TV shows Rachel has played similar characters in are very important forms of representation for me and others. One chapter that I found particularly useful in learning from past mistakes was the chapter for "The Devil" tarot card. In the accompanying anecdote Rachel included along with the description of the card and its meaning (as was the style for the whole autobiography), she recounted a frustratingly dysfunctional love affair and the advice her friend who is lucky in love gave her. "It's incredibly simple, really," she said. "I only date men who are 100% into me." But how do you know? By the effort they put into being with you and how they treat you of course. "At first, I thought he was making me feel small and low, but then I realized it was me: it was my choice to be with him. I vowed never to put myself in that position again, and broke up with him easily." The friend had several successful relationships with men who adored her before settling down.

But what happens when desirability politics and body politics create circumstances in which no one adores you? Then wouldn't your only option be to be alone? Life is inherently unfair. I've had the same thought while listening to the song "Adore You" by Harry Styles, witnessing Muriel and Rhonda's loving friendship in Muriel's Wedding and watching 50 First Dates with yet another short-term beau. What if no one adores me? And it's due to no fault of my own? Just the reality of existing, let alone dating, while being a plus-size Black woman (and gorgeous! No kidding). It is unfair, but I can at least say that mere days after my latest breakup, I am back to my happy go lucky self. This in itself is proof of my growth over the pandemic, the strengthening of my resiliency and resolve to just be happy even when things aren't going my way. Life is too short to stress, what is meant for me will be mine and I would just do myself a disservice by sweating it. And I am so grateful for that.