What does love look like during a pandemic?
Since the onset of the pandemic, I’ve seen love emoted in various contexts and connotations, including ways that span borders and cross boundaries. Families are outside riding bicycles around the neighborhood, nurses and doctors freely give their time and energy to save as many lives as they can, and my Masaai friend, Shinka, has been using his connection to travelers to raise funds to help those relying solely on the now disabled tourism industry.
I also see love in myself, which in the past has been more of a bleary line between self-loathing and…not really loathing, but not loving either.
Looking back, I remember feeling self-loathing, even as a teenager–whether it was due to being teased constantly as a kid for one faux inadequacy or another, or due to the incessant need to strive for perfection. By the time I was eighteen or nineteen, self-loathing was embedded into my heart and my head.
This was notwithstanding that I excelled at most everything I set my mind on. During my career in the music industry, I quickly raced up the ladder from unpaid intern to assistant studio manager and worked with some of the biggest names in rock and pop culture. When I decided to switch careers during the 2008 recession, I studied hard and got into one of the top five accounting schools in the country–a school that only accepts roughly 18% of their applicants. Thereafter, I scored two job offers from the top two accounting firms in the world, yet, for every goal set and accomplishment checked off my list, I was empty. Hollow.
I began to realize material rewards or accolades weren’t fulfilling. There was something still missing, but I didn’t know how to change or shift the momentum. Societal norms signified that I was doing everything right. Societal norms dictated that I had no reason to be unhappy, and no reason to not love myself and my life.
It took a pandemic to press pause and reflect on whether those societal norms were essential to my happiness and overall well-being.
When society all but shut down at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic, I began to shift and blossom. For the first time in decades, I had the time to begin to focus my energy inward on me. Initially, there were plenty of tears and a general sense of internal discord, not to mention a lot of booze, while wallowing in complete isolation. The turning point came after attending a Meditation and Social Medicine virtual meeting hosted by Blake Cason. There was something about the meditation that day and being honest and sharing our feelings with others that seemed to flip a switch in my overall being. The kindness, attention and respect that I afforded myself within those short forty-five minutes were eye-opening, and it felt good! I realized, not only did I enjoy this positive feeling, but I deserved to feel it more often.
In a matter of days, I found myself reprioritizing my life. I stopped filling my entire day with work and started showing up for myself. I began meditating daily upon waking, running several mornings a week, decluttering my home, and carving out time in my day for me to do things that I most enjoy like taking photos, walking my dogs, reading a good book, writing… and for once, devoid of normal routine, these shifts came easily. I realized that it is equally as important to show up for myself each day as it has been for me to show up for others in the past.
So, what does love in the time of Covid-19 look like?
It looks generous. It looks messy. It looks understanding. It looks difficult. It looks strong.
Love is reaching out to a neighbor or friend to see if they need anything. Love is articulating our appreciation for front-line workers. Love is donating masks or money for food to those in need.
And love is checking in with yourself and offering yourself a healthy dose of kindness, attention and respect.
Love comes in so many different contexts and connotations, and never have I seen love (especially in my case, self-love) more prevalent than during the Covid-19 pandemic.
