About a year ago I wrote about the Coronavirus. It was nearly just the begining.
Looking back on that piece, I realize how easy it is to be naive and optimistic to the unknown. I was so arrogant and unknowing of the pandemic. Even writing how simple it would be to stop it; just stay in our pajamas and home for two weeks.
When first hearing about the coronavirus and these two week lockdowns, I viewed it as a resting period. I viewed it as, those who were still opting to not wear masks and gloves (remember when our streets were lined with medical gloves?), who could not simply stay home for fourteen days as selfish. It is now a year later and some of the most non-selfish people I know have contracted the virus - while following guidelines. It is now a year later and we have multiple vaccines due to the severity of this virus. It is now ONLY a year later and I'm on my fourth series binge (Columbo - all ten seasons), my third semester of remote schooling, and my 100th video call with one of my doctors.
It is just as easy to be optimistic about the unknown as it is to fear it.
I reflect back on the past year and see many spirals in my own life. 2020 wrecked havoc on me outside of the pandemic; it started with elevated cortisol levels which bloated my face, had made gain at least twenty pounds I still can't shake. I was scarred with acne, and exhaustion. This rolled into an allergic reaction that my family described as looking like a zombie or a rotting hand, as my skin began to itch, burn, bubble, peel, and bleed continuously. I had two biopsy's done on my index finger back in April to rule out I was allergic to a type of medication. My best friend in the world sent me a bottle of Bob Dylan whiskey then he said goodbye without a word, without any reason I could see (Perhaps I'll write a piece later on Coping with the Loss of Someone Still Alive). I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and followed for arthritis and lupus. Two of my siblings tested positive for Covid, mom had emergency surgery, and like most, I battled depression and suicide on a daily basis. I've never felt more alone since moving back home and being surrounded by family. I felt alone with my thoughts and trying to cope the loss of myself.
Though 2020 did have its ups. Throughout it I found real friendship, friends whom kept in touch and checking in during an isolated period. I am sleeping beyond three hours a night. I now have my dog with my all the time. Saving money on commuting, and finding new trails to hike during the weekdays when there are no crowds. I also started collecting records again, as I feared my favorite shops closing due to the uncertainties of the pandemic. My dad became part of the Board of Selectmen in our town, which I am very proud of. And we also have a new president and vice-president. Though we, as a country, still have a long way to go. (cough-cough gun restrictions as that is very relevant as well as eliminate the bias and prejudice towards other ethnicities- rid the xenophobia this world has. I want my only anxiety while grocery shopping to be picking the right register - one that's not too long, and with a worker who isn't too chatty. I want to go to classes and fear only my name being called when I don't know the answer, or walking down the halls with my fly down. I want to go to a movie theatre and be transported into another reality, not faced with a cruel one. I want mental health to be open for everyone and not stigmatized. I want this for everyone.)
What I've learned in the past year is how easy it is to loose yourself. Which is what I will be focusing the rest of this article on. With the halt of concerts and my own independence, I became enveloped in this shadow of insecurities and self-hate. I do not fit in and never have, with most my age. I often feel dumb because I cannot articulate myself correctly, a reason I choose to capture my feelings in art, photography, and writing. My therapist dropped me saying she couldn't help my situation, this has happened many times in the past and I began to wonder "is it me? Am I not suppose to be happy?". I just can't change money situations or autoimmune defects. I'm sorry I sometimes, most of the time, deflect with humor. I also now have a negative feeling towards my own therapy, as they all sit there and nod without any feedback ( this is not shooting therapy down, if it works for you and you have a great one, stick with it. If you're contemplating on therapy do it, try it out. Research a therapist that best fits your needs). I'd rather spend the hour saving my copayment dollars and find the answers to life problems through the means of others. I think that's why I like autobiography's of my favorite musicians. A lot came from down and out situations, they're own struggles and being outcasted, but found ways to rise above them and defy the odds. I don't want to be famous, but I do want the glory of finding a passion that heals you and can heal others.
I do my best, I try to help others. I am very open about my feelings because I think they are natural and shouldn't be shamed. If I am having a rough day, you will know, I will tell you.
My depression took hold of me and dragged me into a rabbit hole where I started feeling terribly down with all these new diagnoses of fibromyalgia, which still today as I'm on medication, fills me with hinges of flames licking my body, and chronic exhaustion. My Raynauds Syndrome grew worse as my other autoimmune disease fought with each other, that I couldn't grocery shop due to loosing blood circulation in the produce section. Some days it would get so cold I'd pass out due to lack of oxygen in my blood and body overworking just to heat up. I felt bad about loosing my gym regime and gaining weight. Depression struck me as I watch someone I love battle something I know too well.
My blues then blurred my vision and reality. I couldn't identify myself in the mirror, and started identifying more with the mask on than with it off. Perhaps it was because I barely saw my own reflection in the mirror and just pandemic blue staring at me, or my mask from my dear friend, Lorena, that says "Dibs on the Drummer".
How do we cope with loosing our own identity?
Throughout our lives we are coping with the loss of part of ourselves or things we have attached ourselves too. Whenever we loose a loved one we might feel like part of us has transitioned as well. When we change our career, we let our past no longer define us; "I was a TJMaxx Employee, now I am a Home Depot Associate". If we study the idea of loosing ones identity we can therefore study aspects of Jaques Lacan's Imaginary Stage of psychoanalysis. Here he defines a baby, whom has only recognized itself as a dependent, as part of the mother. The baby comes from the mother, the baby requires breast milk, and needs the mother for nurture; this is the idea of oneness. A baby then looks in the mirror, it recognizes it is not intact an appendage (to speak) of the mother, it is it's own, unique subject. It has it's own actions, movements, noises, and identity. This stage of Lacan's Three Reals is also known for when one develops an ego. A baby then might cope with the loss of itself, the loss of the self it thought it was; one with the mother. It will try to fill that emptiness with desires- here Lacan introduces the Oedipus complex, which is not at all where this article is going so we move away from Lacan, but keep in mind the loss of identity is within us from early on.
So what happens if one year you're fine. You're happy with who you are, your body isn't breaking down on you, you have your own independence, at a top school, and living in Boston taking pictures and writing. Then out of nowhere you gain weight without trying, your friends make you question whether or not you were just a charity, because they leave you- ghost you. The one thing you love more than anything, music, gets canceled. You cannot travel to Boston and you've barely picked up a camera. How do you cope when the reflection looking at you in the mirror is not the one trapped inside?
I wish I had the answer. I only give suggestions, as I am still trying to find myself. I guess I first looked at Identity and what it was. Who was I. Our identities are not just something we create for ourselves through our own expressions, or how we deal with the path given to us. Rather our identity is also an entity of how others perceive us or create an illusion of us. When it comes to finding our identity again, think about not only how you want to be, feel, but think about how you'll be perceived. That might sound showy, but I look at the Resting Bitch face example. One with a resting bitch face might be identified as "the bitch" by others, when they are really the embodiment of Julie Andrews.
- I suggest doing what is natural to you, not what is natural to the world. If you want green hair, have green hair. Do not dye your hair green because Billie Elish had green hair and it was deemed "cool", do it for you. Going back to my first suggestion, when you do things for you that make you happy, it reflects. Be the one who doesn't stick to the quo if you choose to be. But when you "choose to be" when forming your identity, you are not choosing a celebrity you adore to capture and mock, you are not going to a store and picking out a sweater off the rack. You and your identity is a blend of your desires, dreams, and story. Your sweater is going to have a stain or a rip in it, that is your past. It will have some loose threads, those are the loose ends in your life that keep you thinking and working towards tying up. Your celebrity maybe faded as the print, but that's only because celebrities are meant to be role models (for the most part) but they do not star in your life feature. You can learn from them, but never wish to be them. For their sweaters probably have more holes than yours.
- I suggest trying the new and familiar. Push yourself to be uncomfortable to explore yourself. When we break out of our comfort zone we enter growth. Rather this push symbolize something you life or dislike; they both help form you. You are a mix of opinions. Try to start with doing what your old identity, the one you lost, loved to do. For example, I use to drive around listening to a Merle Haggard CD I got at Walmart. I now expand my drive home, to do just that. I now take hikes again, and look I am writing not for school. After discovering the lost you is still around, make time to explore new adventures. Perhaps you're desires. Try skydiving or even a simply thing such as a paint class. You might love it, you might hate it. Your feelings are yours.
- Find a passion. Find something that makes you feel unique or perhaps make you feel connected. Maybe you'll build birdhouses, and perhaps join a meetup and find new identities that mesh and accept yours.
- That brings me to acceptance. Accept the change you have done, accept that you are constantly on a plane going forward, rather than back. Your past identity is still in you, but they've grown. They've evolved. Allow yourself to accept it and work on how you can feel comfortable in your new identity. You do not need to give up to get out. Also, allow yourself to only be surrounded by those who accept your quirks, and desires. Do not change yourself to fit anyone else mold.
. I learned this year that it is okay. It is okay to be broken and it is okay to keep trying.
I suppose I learned how easy it can be to turn from an optimist to a pessimist. Slowly I am optimizing the opportunity to look through the glass as not half empty, nor half full. Rather look at the glass as a prism and find the right angle, the correct balance, to refract light and produce a rainbow.
