I recently turned 23. Typical for a birthday—perhaps especially so for the first since graduating into a new chapter of life, and also being mid-pandemic—I was feeling quite reflective of the past year and my recent life goings-on.
On the one hand: I feel unmoored. A profound sense of loss, having broken from the existential tether for one's sense of self that is schooling. Even more so given the abrupt finish my cohort (and the rest of our community) faced in the spring, with COVID dashing away any hope for real closure to this way of life we were to conclude. I've lost sense of the daily routine of it all, of education and socialization, of sleep and food and drink (in all combinations of balance and imbalance, as undergrads are wont to do, in normal circumstances.) Now, it all happens within the confines of the same four walls every day, all taking place on the same screen. I see every day in my job—which I'm also so lucky enough to have—the ways that students, admin, and faculty are still struggling against all that COVID has wrought. It's bizarre and unreal. And I haven't un-shaken myself from it all.
On the other hand: I feel so miraculously freed. I am out of the woods in a sense, with a job that excites me and a roof over my head in a city that I love. I am aging out of late adolescence and into proper adulthood. My family and loved ones are safe, and I feel newly invigorated by these precious relationships I've fostered and focused more on since quarantine has forced long-distance communication to be the new norm. I've gained a sense of resilience amid uncertainty; of righteous purpose amid wrongful suffering; of love and growth amid rage and chaos.
Above are unorganized, un-fleshed out dichotomies. I'm uncertain if some, or any, of the thoughts shared prove helpful or relatable to anyone. But it's my slice of the lesson this "unprecedented moment" seems to be teaching us: despite all we face, as daunting and defeating as it can seem, there is also strength, spirit, beauty, and love.