5 Things I’ll Never Let Happen Again After 2020

We’re all anxious to get back to normal, but we need to consider what “normal” should mean.

The week before the world screeched to a halt was a blissfully normal one, but I’ll never forget it. Sure, there were daily pangs of fear, but life was chugging along. We had just celebrated my son’s second birthday with a big family party at our house and a trip to a discovery museum.

On Tuesday, my son had an early intervention session at our home. He was seeing a specialist because of delays in his speech, but his new words were really coming along. That night, I attended a board meeting for my theater company to discuss our upcoming show that was currently in tech rehearsals. We discussed the possibility of having to postpone, but were planning on full steam ahead.

On Wednesday, I went to a bar to play pub trivia with a group of friends. We were a little nervous about being out, but we all realized it might be our last bar gathering for a while. During trivia, the multiple TV screens around the bar informed us that Tom Hanks had tested positive for coronavirus, and that the NBA season would be suspended.

On Thursday, I brought my son to his early enrichment center (a charming place called Kidville) where he had begun doing two hours of drop-off programming twice a week. I dropped him off for his 6th day, and for the first time, he successfully made the transition without tears. When I picked him up, we washed our hands thoroughly and texted my husband a picture to show how proud I was of our brave little guy.

My son would never go to Kidville again. My heart still plummets every time I think of that final day that we didn’t know was final. It had felt like the beginning of something. I had achieved that holy grail of motherhood balance where my kid was (at long last) happy separating from me and I was getting work done at a nearby coffee shop.

Friday, I went to Target to stock up on some food and supplies. I remember feeling like I was in the middle of the apocalypse. Half-empty shelves. Nervous people skirting around the store with overflowing shopping carts. Hand sanitizer everywhere.

Then it was Saturday and everything just stopped. “Two Weeks to Stop the Spread” (remember that?) began, and as we all unfortunately know too well, that two weeks went on and on (and on).

The theater company that I was meeting about has since been dissolved, and the show that was about to open was cancelled. My son’s enrichment center permanently closed its doors, and his early intervention services moved online. We haven’t had friends in our home since my son’s birthday party the week before the shutdown. Our life changed completely, and we are still mourning the losses of 2020 every single day.

A New Standard for “Normal”

As I sit here in the house I’ve spent far too much time in this year, I’d give anything to be sitting in a bar, performing on stage, exploring the library play area with my son, or sweating out my stress in a hot yoga room, back in the time before fear invaded our lives (circa February 2020). But instead, I’m here reflecting on the “old normal” of my life (with far fewer distractions).

COVID-19 blew up all of our lives to the point where they were unrecognizable. And so much has happened in the world since we’ve been stuck at home. We’ve been changed. We all have. It would be ridiculous to think that we could go through such massive change and come out the same as before.

The bad news is that getting back to the way things were pre-pandemic would be like trying to complete a puzzle with assorted pieces from 10 different sets. But there is a silver lining here. Now we get to decide how we put the pieces of our lives back together.

I personally refuse to let the suffering, struggles and strife of 2020 be for nothing in my life. After a year of such dramatic loss, coming out of it with no lessons learned would be another tragedy to add to the mix.

So when we get that vaccine and the country eventually gets “back to normal”, what will your new normal look like? These are the ways that 2020 changed me forever, and these are the things I’ll never allow to be normal again.

1. I’ll Never Again Fail To Put My Own Seatbelt On First

Before the world stopped, I would just go, go, go until I literally ran out of gas. I’ve always been the kind of person who takes care of everyone else first. Before motherhood, I just never really ran out of gas, so it all worked out fine. Then I had my son and realized there was a limit to how much I could give before hitting rock bottom and needing to fill my own tank.

The messaging pushed on women is that the more selfless we are, the more wonderful we are. But what happens when there’s no “self” to give out anymore?

The hits that knocked me down during 2020 taught me that I have definitive limits. And if I’ve got nothing in my tank, the family car is going nowhere. My needs are not optional. They are essential. And there shouldn’t need to be a global pandemic going on for me to justify treating myself to self care.

So in the future, I will take my needs seriously, and I’ll make sure they’re met. Then I’ll more easily be able to fasten the seatbelts of the people I love the most.

2. I’ll Never Again Stay Quiet in the Face of Racism and Injustice

I’ve had a complicated relationship with race my whole life. My skin is clearly not white, so people tend to perceive me as Black. But I’ve never felt like I fully belong in a Black crowd, so taking on Black struggles used to make me feel like a fraud. I always felt like I never experienced racism to the degree that I know people with darker skin do, so I’ve stayed quiet when confronted with it. Sure, I’d complain to my parents, my husband or my friends when racism knocked on my door. But oftentimes, I’d let microaggressions (and some macroaggressions) slide.

No longer.

Amy Cooper’s 911 call and George Floyd’s horrific and senseless murder happened in the same week, and both events shook me to my core. They didn’t open my eyes to the level of racism in this country. I was already fully aware of that. But the events did sort of force me to wake up within my own skin.

No matter my own insecurities, I am a Black, biracial woman. My life matters, and the lives of my Black family and friends matter. I can say that wholeheartedly, in the voices of all of the identities that make me up.

Systemic racism is not something that will just go away by turning a blind eye to it. The world needs our voices and our relentless action. There is no amount of racism or injustice that will ever be okay with me, and I’ll never again let it slide in my presence.

3. I’ll Never Again Lose Sight of What Makes Me Happy

Midway through 2020, I actually stepped back (for the first time in a long time) and asked myself, “What do I want to do with my life?” And to be fair, my husband was the one to prompt the question.

It’s so easy to hop on the train of life and just ride. As you pick up steam, the scenery around you just sort of blurs by. It’s hard to dissect the choices you make along the way. You just keeping going.

I’ve been so guilty of that. I just go along, picking up projects and saying yes to everything along the way. But with all this extra time, I’ve been able to really reflect on the choices I’ve made. Which choices did I make just because I wanted to please people, and which did I make because my heart was truly leading the way?

I’ve been a writer since I was in elementary school. I’d write poems to make sense of the things I was going through. I went to college for writing. I wrote an entire screenplay as my thesis. Then I got a job as a writer and editor, and I stopped writing for pleasure. A global pandemic had to come along for me to realize that it had been 10 years since I’d written anything worthwhile personally (outside of my journal).

I started writing again and a fire ignited inside me. I’m just sad it took this long to remember the feeling. So going forward, I’m going to let this feeling lead me when it comes to my choices. I want to fill my own life with happy, not drown while trying to make others happy.

4. I’ll Never Again Kid Myself Into Thinking I Can Be the Perfect Mom

Spoiler alert: the perfect mom doesn’t exist. I wish I could have just accepted that earlier, but better late than never.

Since before my son was born (starting during pregnancy, really), I’ve put so much pressure on myself to do everything “right”. I’ve done all that I can to make sure my son gets perfectly balanced meals, regular playdates with other kids, various outings to keep him stimulated, etc. Like all moms, I just want the world for my kid.

But my kid doesn’t need the world. He needs me; my love, my attention and my time. Being stuck at home with no one to play with and nowhere to go proved this to me. My son never gets bored while playing with cars or bubbles for hours on end. He doesn’t mind doing the same things every single day. I’m the one who gets bored. It’s me who wants to fill his day with a dozen different activities.

I’ll always put pressure on myself when it comes to being a good mom. But I’ve discovered that my son can be just as happy with a whole lot less. And that realization has let me off the hook a bit, and reaffirmed that the best thing I can give my son is myself.

5. I’ll Never Again Be Anything Other Than Me

I’ve always had a hard time feeling like I fully belong in any setting. (I’ve learned that that’s actually a very common feeling among biracial people.) So to cope, I think I’ve always adjusted myself according to my surroundings. I’ve done this in order to better fit in, and in order to make the people around me comfortable.

Then I had to deal with a global pandemic and a racial reckoning while stuck in the confines of my own home and my own mind. I’ve gotten to know myself a whole lot better.

Now that I’ve come to terms with my tendency to blend in, I’ll never knowingly do it again. There is unfathomable strength in just being yourself, and I’ve finally internalized this message. It may sound inconsequential, but my biggest takeaway from 2020 is that I will never again ignore what feels right in my heart, and I’ll never again fail to just be me.