I don’t know about anyone else, but I made a lot of plans for 2020 that were destroyed in fiery flames, to put it mildly. Reed and I had been discussing our future and our goals all through 2019. Financial, personal, health, self-care, and all around positive goals, and 2020 was going to be the year that happened.
At the beginning of 2020, I changed jobs to one that brought me so much stability. My mental health was healing. Our finances were never better. My new position was bringing the kind of creativity and purpose I had been looking for. I had more energy because of the positives around me. I was on top of the world and could see a light at the end of the tunnel. And then...
We lost it. We, like millions upon millions of Americans, lost any stability we had built. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
In the midst of what seemed to be the best for us, we lost it. Every goal. Every dream. Every resolution.
Now, we are blessed beyond measure at the support and love we received during this time. But, I do want to preface this by saying that as I’ve said before, I struggle hard with anxiety. And what’s the key factor in staying healthy with anxiety? Stability and consistency. And that was gone. It isn’t lost on me how privileged we are, and how for the only time this year, I was thankful for the US Government for letting us keep our home. We were never in harms way or in danger of losing our possessions, food, or shelter. But mentally, thanks to dear old anxiety, we could have already been packing up to live in our cars.
The thing is, I KNOW it could have been worse. I knew then it could have. But the way I felt, anxiety was telling me this was as bad as it got. It could have been worse, and I may have felt exactly the same. If you don’t have anxiety, I don’t know how to explain that some days, weeks, or months, the anxiety you feel after a car wreck is the same one you feel when you wake up in the morning. You wake up everyday tense, nauseous, scared, sweating, just knowing today is going to suck as much as the last, even if you factually know it won’t be. It does not matter what’s actually happening. By this point, I was long gone. I was already in survival mode. It didn’t matter what was on paper.
As time went on, my thoughts were constantly:
“We can’t pay our bills.”
“I failed.”
“I should have stayed miserable at that job.”
“We’re going to lose the house.”
“We’re never getting out of this debt.”
“I will never find a job again.”
Like a record player, over and over again, in my head.
At this point in the year, I had worked for not one, not two, but THREE different employers, trying to get my mental health in check. One being gracious enough to let me come back for a week in between the other two. This doesn’t include the job I quit the August before, due to toxicity. My belief in myself and, quite frankly, in my ability to choose a career path was gone. I mean seriously. Two failed job opportunities that I could not handle, and a brand new, laid off, job. A brand new job that I chose a month before the pandemic, in which my main goal was to send mainly retired members of our community (high risk #1) into the homes of the hospice patients, arguably the HIGHEST risk population possible to visit? *insert face palm here*
In no way, shape or form, did I have the mental capacity to even think about looking for another job. Not to mention, when your background is in Social Work, there aren’t many non-traumatic job openings, when everyone’s throwing out social distance regulations. Trust me. I tried. Unless I wanted to go back to the work that sent me into a spiral in the months before, I had little to no realistic options.
I was numb. Completely. No amount of money, no amount of emotional support, no amount of anything tangible could give me what I craved most: stability. There were weeks when we didn’t know what bills, plans, or goals to just cancel. As everyone else did, we took our heartbreak day by day. It didn’t matter what reality or opportunities were in front of me, we’d already lost it all in my twisted brain of mine. Week by week, more hope just died, and the longer it went, the more I tried to numb myself by indulging in all legal forms of brain numbing activities.
As an unhealthy, unemployed, unmotivated person living in 2020, I did what most of us did. I watched Netflix, ate too much or sometimes ate nothing at all, slept for hours and stayed up all night, and did anything I could to not think about the world around me. At one point, Reed and I actually had a convoluted schedule, where I would watch AN ENTIRE SEASON OF A SHOW through the night, go to sleep when he left for work, and wake up just in time for him to be home. Because for some twisted reason, even though he was asleep, I didn’t want to be awake and physically alone with my thoughts.
And I heard it all, y’all.
“I wish I could have had four months off!!”
“I bet those unemployment checks are nice.”
“I would do so much with that time.”
And mostly, that’s probably because my good friend anxiety also hates telling people I don’t have it together. God bless Reed and my momma, because they hear it all.
And on paper, yeah. It sounds great. We had money to live. I had “time”. But it’s not. I was alone, with my thoughts about how I was a failure and the world was on fire, everyday. My heart hurts so badly for everyone else who did this, especially those who didn’t have someone coming home everyday. And to the ones who are still doing it, you are my heroes.
What people don’t see on paper, is that you and your husband have debts that were going to get paid off this year, and now you may have it for years, if not decades to come. They don’t see that he managed two ER visits during your unemployment, and that adds thousands more. All financial plans, gone.
They don’t see those nights he held you while you cried, because you wanted to start a family, and there was no way you could responsibly try to do that now. They didn’t hear you tell him he had to go to work when he felt sick, because that was the only source of income you had, and he didn’t have PTO. They didn’t hear you sob when he left, because all you needed that day was for him to be there and tell you it would be okay. Personal goals, ruined.
They didn’t hear him calling on his lunch and ask if you’ve eaten today, because you’ve only managed to feed yourself twice in the last three days. Health goals? What are those!
They don’t know that you saved up every penny of those checks you could for when your furlough enevitably became a lay off, and spoiler alert: it did.
On paper, yeah. We were okay. We were doing great, theoretically. But in our home, it was a hot mess. Through a lot, A. LOT., of prayers, and a dash of magic prayers from my momma, we survived. When I tell you, everytime I reached my absolute breaking point, God fixed something to show me he listened, I am not lying.
When it did become a lay off, I was offered a job in the same company. Lucky for me, my anxiety makes me a planner, and I had saved those pennies for when I had to take a significant pay cut. Another thing I heard: “But why don’t you look for something else?” Well, I don’t know if you heard me earlier, but Reed had already been to the ER twice. Since then, he’d had surgery, and was getting checked for a heart condition, so I needed to keep our health insurance. Nothing humbled you more than working out of desperation. Not to mention, I love this company. And while the situation sucked, 2020 is not their fault and they are nothing but kind. At least one staff member checked on me every couple of weeks, either to give resources or purely out of the goodness of their hearts. So for health insurance, a positive, healthy work environment, and my longing for stability, I will take the pay cut.
Then, Reed got his dream job. The day he called to tell me, I cried all day at work about how sick he was. He gave me the news, and I immediately went to crying happy tears for him. A literal answer to prayer in real time. Let me tell you, if you haven’t talked to him personally, he’s thriving. They have been nothing but a blessing to us, and I could not be more thankful for them. They may spoil him to the point my eyes are permanently stuck in a rolling formation, but he’s so happy it doesn’t even matter.
So we survived 2020. Woo.
I didn’t thrive.
This is not my year.
I don’t have a “but at least I had a baby/got married/lost weight/found my dream job/etc!”
Nope. Not one of those things.
But, I tried.
I say all that to say, I’ve seen several of the trendy Christian girls I aspire to be on my timelines, picking “their word” for 2021. And I think mine may just be Try.
This came to me tonight, to no one’s surprise, through YouTube. Reed and I are obsessed with The Try Guys. We, ironically, just finished their episode about trying to Golf. Their entire purpose is to just try things, whether it be baking a cake without a recipe or playing poker. They almost never get it right. They try their hardest, laugh along the way, and learn something everytime. It makes us laugh, and almost everytime we say “I want to try that”. A hint of positivity in our 2020.
Obviously, I have my reservations about resolutions after the crap shoot that was 2020, but can it really hurt to try? I know it very may well not happen, but I can atleast hope and try? It may be me making a crappy cake no one wants to eat because I used too many eggs, but dang it! I can atleast be proud I walked to the kitchen!
I can try to be positive, even if realistically, it just isn’t.
I can try to get off the couch when I feel like I can’t, even if it’s just to clean a corner of the house.
I can try to reach out to people in need or, ugh I guess, I need them, even if it’s just to ask how they’re doing.
I can set realistic goals, knowing I can try, but it probably won’t go as planned. It may not even be possible at all. And that’s okay.
If 2020 taught me anything, it’s that it’s okay to be let down. It’s okay to be disappointed. It’s okay if you don’t have a plan, because no one could have planned for it. It’s okay to know your limits. It’s okay if the only thing you did that day, month, or year was survive. But it is not okay to not try. Even if your version of trying is just putting one foot in the right direction.
We were blessed in 2020, even in the times it doesn’t feel like it.
In the days I sulked in my misery, I did feel silence and peace that God had been begging me to feel for a year. (Side note: don’t beg God for rest. I’m still kicking myself for that one.)
I painted and wrote and drew for hours on end, trying to escape, and unknowingly healed small pieces of my broken self.
I prayed harder and louder, physically screaming sometimes, begging God for peace for me and so many others, and knew he heard it.
I searched the Bible, and sometimes Google for specific answers, and found answers to questions I hadn’t asked yet.
I had a husband, who shouldn’t have put up with me for the thousandth time in our relationship, and didn’t just choose to stay, lovingly wanted to.
I have friends and family, who have showered us with love and support every step of the way. You really do find out who your friends are.
In all the bad, I tried to find answers, solutions, hope, and here I am, a year later, realizing realistically I had them all, even if it didn’t feel like it.
My introverted soul needed time away from the world, even if I fought tooth and nail when anxiety told me I wouldn’t survive if I did. While anxiety was telling me we’d be nothing, God was preparing me and healing me enough to return to normalcy as best as I could. I’m fully convinced he knew after 2019, I was not ready to be on the frontlines of a pandemic yet. Me and him had work to do, even if that work was just learning to breathe through 2020.
Now, I prefer quiet nights in, when the world is too loud. I watch tv and YouTube with my husband to laugh with him, and not to escape. I draw, because somehow starting and finishing that brings me more joy than anything else. I forget to eat because I’m enjoying the world around me, not because I’m too sad. I know we’ll start a family eventually, and I’m glad we got to spend 2020 loving on our friends babies in a way we wouldn’t have if we had our own. I go to work, not out of desperation, but to see my coworkers and do tasks that I know are valuable to our communities in a time that it is desperately needed. I still call my momma to cry. I doubt that’s ever going to change, but I also send her Tik Toks and Twitter feeds in hopes it makes her feel as seen as it did me.
And now, I have never been more confident that God can take my angry, sad, screaming cries, and doesn’t just listen, he understands. The problems that are “little” to everyone else, aren’t little to him. He knows when I’m being a brat, and when I’m in pain, and fixes life in ways I wouldn’t have imagined.
This is our story this year. It may not be a lot, but it’s ours. I see everyday what 2020 has taken from other people, and it breaks my heart everytime. I made this blog to share my story, and this year, I’m just glad my story isn’t done here. And if you’re reading this, I’m glad yours isn’t either.
For all that you’ve lost, because I know you have, I pray that you’ve found good too. I hope that you’ve been able to kick this years tail by just showing up. And if all you did was try, then you are not alone. If all you did was change from your dirty sweat pants to your clean ones, I’m proud of you. You tried. You made an effort. Celebrate the times you tried this year.
Absolutely no one’s plans went right this year. It’s easy to feel like you got nothing out of this year in comparison to those around you, especially when you’re in quarantine. Even in quarantine, people are still only sharing the version of themselves they want you to see.
We don’t know what 2021 holds. For the first time in my entire life, I’m scared of a new year. I didn’t even want to say the words 2021, for fears it would jinx it, like the-year-who-must-not-be-named or something. I guarantee you that nobody has ever before screamed Jumanji when the ball dropped before this New Years Eve, and I’m just praying I’m not Robin Williams- stuck in the game until someone eats a bat to open the next horrible year. But, I do know that I am capable of trying. I’ve heard people say “I can do hard things” this year. I think that’s great, but it’s also okay if you can’t. You heard me. It’s okay if you didn’t do the thing. I know there are some hard things I can’t do, yet. I know my limits. But, I am capable of trying hard things, and so are you.
2020 is not the end for many things, but 2021 could be a new beginning. A new, scary, unprecedented, bright beginning. And if you need someone to cheer you on for just trying to get through, I’m here, trying right along with you.