I am still the same old me, in the sense that I am cranky without my morning caffeine boost. But I am also different, in the sense that I am fine being holed up in my room the whole day for work, with a few hours of Youtube breaks in my bed that is one step away from my productive corner, only getting out for the occasional bathroom breaks and microwavable leftover pizzas.
Do I miss going out and meeting people? I probably will soon enough, but for now, I am content. I guess 2 years of pandemic bounds to eventually change you as a person.
I suppose I am still the same old me — with my constant need to untangle and understand what is happening around me. But I am also different because in between my jampacked schedule of virtual meetings and online learning, I have also started to have daily rituals of reflections and manifestations. I have never planned or decided to do them, but I guess that’s what’s special about not having to commute anywhere and just staying still; you have a lot more space to think.
Like, today, when I was getting ready to get out of bed and waltz to my work chair. A random thought suddenly came to me. Maybe the pandemic didn't change me. Maybe adulthood did. After letting that thought sit for a while, I don’t think it was adulthood. I think It was the healing that came with it.
Last year, when my life was significantly got idler and all the demons hiding in the deepest corners of me came out all at once, I was forced to fight them all. I decided that for once, I wanted to win. So, I worked on my fighting skills.
Through the gunshots wounds and the deep knife cuts and bruises, I eventually found my groundings. Practice makes perfect, so does real experience.
So, these days, when the only highlight of my day is having a cup of coffee in the morning while typing away on my 2-month old pink mechanical keyboard, I can still find it within me to wake up, to appreciate the mundane things, to struggle with my inner child, and to be present. This is not who I was a year ago.
I am not going to say that a year ago I wasn’t as strong; I was just inexperienced. I didn’t know how to tend my wounds, or how to fight back, and I did not let anyone help me. I thought fighting alone was the best way to do it.
But now I know — not just how to stand up and fight back, but also that I still have a lot of room to make mistakes and learn from them. Now I know, that when I fail again, and I will, I won’t be alone. Now I know that being able to lean on others isn’t a weakness or a burden, it’s what makes us human. Now I know how to properly love myself, even if I am lacking.
Anyways, I am ending this letter with poetry that I have loved for almost 10 years.
Love After Love by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
