Prepare for some haunting quotes:
“Though this was a difficult decision…”
“The COVID-19 outbreak has given us no choice but to…”
“...remainder of the Spring semester…”
We all remember the moment it happened. One email seemed to encase and erase our entire universe. On March 12, 2020, the word “remote” was a hateful word. It was the term we were bracing ourselves to see on the screen, and yet, few were prepared for the sting. Some felt anger–- the strong kind, some felt desperation– the sad kind, and some were confused– the kind that ultimately led to anger. Those few who were unscathed by the ignorance of our country reacted with a solemn nod of understanding. Here began a twelve-month-long decade.
It is difficult for me to describe the feeling that ripped through my chest after receiving the news. At the time, I was a second-semester sophomore with a freshly broken ankle and a fading optimism towards the world. During the weeks leading up to March 12th, my concerns were: when I was going to walk again, how I could somehow get on a plane to Florida for a spring break trip, and an overdue essay that I needed to finish. Needless, to say, my anxious brain was at capacity.
When I put down my phone, the words “remote” and “remainder of the spring” echoed in my ears like sirens. I closed my eyes. Images of the dining hall, south quad, and Case green flashed in my head like memories of a life that was taken too soon. I was in mourning. I experienced each stage of grief one by one and all at once. I wanted to rip off my cast and run away.
Looking back on my one-legged and heartbroken sophomore self, there was so much that I did not know on March 12th, 2020. I did not know that a year later, COVID-19 would still be running rampant in our lives; that I was about to embark on a lifetime’s worth of emotional growth in the coming months; that I would have a Edna Mode-esque haircut; and I certainly did not know that the mere mention of Florida would send shivers of disgust down my spine. I do not mean any offense to any Skidmore Floridians, though you must be used to the Florida slander by now.
A year ago, I felt I was a victim of unfairness. I couldn’t finish my sophomore year. I couldn’t see my friends. I had to be trapped in my house. Yes, COVID-19 was anything but fair; however, why did I make everything about me? People were sick, dying, scared, and I was most concerned with my sophomore year being taken from me. The reduction of my ego was one of the greatest gifts COVID-19 gave me. I know how that sounds: a pandemic giving me a gift? I don’t mean to say that I am grateful for this pernicious pandemic. I am not. I do believe, however, that if I were to leave this experience without learning a thing, I would be doing myself and the world a disservice. So, I choose to reflect. I urge you, whoever you are, to do the same.
Ask yourself: if you from March 12, 2020 and the you from right now sat down and spoke, how well would they know each other? Would they get along? Do they have the same friends? Do they have the same values? To those who believe they haven’t changed, ask yourself these questions. Who are you now? Are you better off? After this very long year, self-understanding has become my mission, and these questions still consume me.
If me from March 12, 2020 and I were to sit down and talk, I would start by giving her a hug, some better crutches, and a paper bag to hyperventilate into. That would not be an easy conversation. She would hate my hair, not recognize my clothes, and disapprove of my social inactivity. She would question my apparent introversion– a side of myself I before kept hidden– and laugh at how awkward I have become. I would look at her and smile. Her face to me would look ages younger. She had so much to learn. I would tell her who I am now: a thoughtful, careful, introverted extrovert, who is brutally aware of her mental health, and is actually doing something about it. I would tell her how much time I have had to give myself the attention I give others. I would tell her that the ER doctor who told her she would be walking in a month was off by about three months, and I would give her a moment to recover from that news.
My March 12th, 2020 self and I could talk for hours, with her jaw dropped– frozen in a state of shock and bewilderment. She and I would agree on a few things, though. First, this year brought a decade’s worth of lessons; for that, I am wiser. Second, I was forced to detach from the conscience I created from pieces of other people; for that, I am self-aware. Third, I learned it was possible for my whole world to change in one day; for that, I am grateful for today.