Change

I don’t typically handle change well. Transitions to high school and college invoked panic and nausea. I’ve never been afraid that I wouldn’t be successful in whatever I chose to do, I just plain don’t like forced change. That doesn’t mean that I’ve clung to routines or ways of life that don’t serve me; it just means that I am stubborn at my core and if newness happens, I like it to happen on my own terms. Make no mistake, my distaste for forced change is not a trait I appreciate about myself, but I’m self aware enough to know that especially in the past, I’ve always needed a well-intentioned nudge (or a straight up push) into the unknown. This year, however, I’ve had a surprisingly easy time coping with the ever changing newness.

When I think about it, I assume I’ve coped well because through a combination of medication, therapy, steady exercise, and meditation, I’ve quieted the constant loop of anxiety in my head. The loop that tells me that if I feel out of control even for a moment something terrible will happen has shut her foolish face a lot more this year than ever before. Anxiety is that mean narcissistic girl that tries to make it all about her and constantly reminds you that you suck because she’s trying to mask deep seated insecurities. But this year, I took it upon myself to shut her up whenever I could and it’s been pretty awesome. So I am now in what feels like an uncomfortable space of admitting that I’m pretty mad.

Part of my dislike for change connects to my deep love for predicability, consistency, and structure. I’ve never met a schedule, spreadsheet, or outline that I didn’t love. My systems are efficient and amazing and I’m oddly proud of them. Back to the anger. I’m angry at all the hypocrisy. And yes, I could avoid social media or any mention of the news, but that feels irresponsible particularly given that there is so much good and kindness out in the world and I want to soak in as much of that as possible. If 2020 taught me one lesson (it taught me many but I’ll save that post for another day), I think the most important was that I have no time for inconsistency and hypocrisy in my space. And I’m more comfortable owning that statement than I’ve ever been before. I’ve seen so many people who are in positions for relative comfort similar to my won frankly whine about how hard every little thing is. And I get it, I listen to Brene Brown too and I know we aren’t supposed to compare our suffering, but damn, some of y’all are really out here talking about how hard it is while also attending gathering with people, thereby making the pandemic last longer.

Do you hear yourselves? Do you just possess an overwhelming amount of cognitive dissonance that allows you to engage in risky behaviors while simultaneous complaining and lamenting how sad it is that we can’t see our extended families for the holidays? Do you not see how you are contributing to the problem? Do you just not care? Or do you only care about yourself and your immediate circle of people? Are you just that selfish? I knew I had a tendency to get angry and indignant at hypocrisy in the past, but this year it’s off the charts bananas. And I’m not going to waste my energy getting all up in someone’s business trying to convince them that their behavior makes no damn sense. It’s not worth my or anyone else’s time. 

Yes, this year is universally hard. Many parts of it suck beyond belief. We should feel every ounce of grief we need to feel to cope with that. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with feeling any and every feeling we have. That’s healthy and helpful. However, we do not get to deny our duty to care about other people. Our basic human duty to treat other people the way we want to be treated. It is abundantly clear after this year that some people truly do not care about other people. We were asked to stay home if we were able and wear a tiny piece of cloth on our faces. That’s literally it. That meant we had to carefully plan when we shopped for food and medicine and we had to rely on delivery for literally anything else we needed. It meant no more brunches and movies out (and believe me when I say as soon as it’s safe, those are two of the things I’m looking forward to most). It meant school at home for awhile and possibly the whole year depending on where we lived and our comfort levels with the safety measures taken. It’s been undeniably hard, but whining about it still after 9 months truly makes no sense to me.

If you believe that the stages of grief are a helpful framework to move through forced suckiness, and I do, then at some point you reach the stage of acceptance. The stages of grief occur on a different timetable for everyone and yes, we should allow everyone to operate in their own unique time. For me, though, that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna sit back and be cool with watching someone whine and complain while also not taking basic safety measures. It also doesn’t mean that I’m gonna be cool with people like me who have the financial means and ability to quarantine long enough to see family in other places to whine about how hard it is while vacationing, cocktail in hand. That’s not a good look, boo.

I know last week I wrote about hope and I am truly full of it. I’ve seen pictures of my cousin and so many other medical professionals I know getting the first dose of the vaccine. I am hopeful that frontline workers and please goodness anyone who works in grocery stores and any sort of delivery service have the opportunity to get it next. And I am over the moon to receive it when my turn comes, probably around summer 2021. But for now, we wait. We stay home and stay safe. We remain grateful for what we have an hopeful for the future. And we do what a friend of mine reminds people all the time, be freaking kind. Happy Holidays and Happy Wednesday!