Dear COVID-19,
Sign at The Granada in Lawrence, KS // Taken before the "Stay at Home" order
This is my first blog post of 2020! What a way to return—I want to use the extra time on my hands to revisit creative outlets which I previously had to neglect. It felt weird, planning blog posts about recipes and home décor while the COVID-19 coronavirus continues to rapidly spread and affect everyone’s physical, mental, and emotional health, so I thought I would share how I am experiencing this moment in time—through the lens of a senior college student, naturally. I was initially hesitant to speak about my experience. I didn’t want sharing my particular lens of the pandemic to be interpreted as “diminishing” other important effects or “leaving out” what news outlets, public figures, and the media are covering. I am not aiming to be representative of the COVID-19 outbreak through the lens of the U.S. as a whole or, on a larger and even more daunting scale, the world as a whole. I am aiming to process. I am aiming to share my emotions at this moment in time as a non-theatre major who was excited to do what would probably be her last musical performance in some time, a student worker who felt truly valued, a student who felt seen and was trying to soak up every last moment, make every last memory, and allow every last laugh to be as loud and long as it wanted—because the years before were not filled with enough. With that “practically-a-disclaimer” out of the way—Onto the post!
The week of March 1-7, 2020 became, unexpectedly, my last week of in-person college class periods, and it just so happened that both my Wednesday and Thursday class periods were cancelled. (Neither cancellations were related to the COVID-19 coronavirus outbreak.) During my Wednesday photography class, students reported to class, turned in assignments, and were told class was dismissed early. As the other students milled out, and only two of us remained, I realized that’s probably what my last day of college classes ever would feel like.
I left like the others after a moment, acknowledging that I was getting emotional. I instantly questioned and tried to shut out the emotion. (Artists—being emotional, it’s what we do. Maybe more so than actually making art, sometimes. We feel emotions so strongly that will eventually breathe life into this project or that project.) Why do I feel like I’m about to cry? I thought, heaving my backpack, packed to the brim with books which will no doubt give me a spine condition in the future, higher up on my shoulders. Even so, the backpack was an easier weight to bear than pausing for a moment to actually acknowledge that my identity as a student, an identity I have proudly carried since kindergarten, would be ending soon. With the cancelled class, I had a full two hours to myself before musical rehearsal—that was unheard of! Since the open class period was a surprise (effectively prompting the “senior scaries”), I felt like I had to optimize this unexpectedly open amount of time. I could work on my thesis project—Or I could write with—Or I could go ahead and read that chapter for my honors course—Or I could—Or I could—
A cancelled class time couldn’t just be a break. I felt like I had to use the time to check something off the list. This is just how I go about life—trying to make the most of every moment—but this was especially heightened this semester. This semester, my last semester of college, I was the most emotionally stable I have ever been in my entire college experience. To keep things simple, here’s a timeline of how I would summarize my college experience:
I was proud to say, after years of living closed-off, still processing the loss of my mother during community college, acclimating to a new town and university after earning my Associate’s degree and transferring to my mother’s alma mater, limiting my social life and other enriching experiences to juggle unfavorable jobs—I had finally reached a place of balance, “a good place.” It had taken roughly four years, but I had reached “a good place.” I was at a job where I felt appreciated and where work felt like family (which I don’t have much left of.) I was questioning my major less because my thesis project gave me an opportunity to delve into the hands-on part of my major (actually creative writing lol.) I was excited to work with my mentor and hear him discuss my plot lines and characters like they were, well, actually something worth discussing. I was in a course dedicated to strictly African-American literature, which is inspirational as a black writer, reaffirming that there is in fact a pathway for my own writing. My photography class allowed for a hands-on visual creative outlet, something I didn’t realize I was missing so much in terms of self-expression. For much of my life, the world didn’t feel “safe.” I was always waiting for “something bad” to happen. But I had reached a point in my life where my surroundings became a comfortable environment to share a side of myself that doesn’t get to come out much: where I could laugh, tells jokes, sing without caring how I sounded, and be expressive with other people whose energy just felt on the same wavelength, because I was living openly enough to actually let people in.
I didn’t anticipate the extent to which the coronavirus would take from myself and other citizens, but on a more intimate and tangible scale, from myself and other students. The activities and events associated with my “student” identity is when the true weight of the virus hit—Reality first struck my individualistic viewpoint of the rapidly spreading virus when the spring musical, originally slated to open late April, was postponed until the following semester. Due to The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s recommendation of no large gatherings, the spring musical was rescheduled for October. I texted my sister about the rescheduling, and she told me, “I’m so sorry. But experiences aren’t bound in time. It’s about what happens, not when.” This gave me a more positive outlook, for a moment, and I am thankful I am able to reassume my role as an alumnus cast member this fall.
However, my last semester of college isn’t like the musical. My last semester of college isn’t “on hold” but “online.” For the well-being of everyone in the United States, universities have transferred to online courses. Before the pandemic, my student schedule caused me to be on campus from 9 in the morning to 9 at night, so my apartment just became the place where I slept. This is a reality for many college students, which is one reason the transition to online classes and working from home is proving a challenge. Our former location of rest now must take on the roles our college campus used to provide for us. For reference, in my case, this means expecting 528 square feet to house my student responsibilities when my student responsibilities used to reside in 1,000 acres at The University of Kansas. College students are struggling to fit the educational experience they knew and loved which used to live in brisk walks amongst other students out in the open into small living spaces, into their computer screens. The moments of personability that can come from organic conversations, the camaraderie between students, student worker office staff luncheons—these enriching in-person human experiences have been condensed into the formalities of emails, online discussion posts, and video-chatting from respective places of quarantine.
I understood that dwelling on lost opportunities to make more college memories and experiences wouldn’t suddenly give life to these missed opportunities, but this didn’t stop me from allowing myself to grieve those losses. Seeing postponement after postponement, cancellation after cancellation, email after email—COVID-19 became more real. Even after the first week of transitioning to online classes, I am still processing. In the same way that classes moving online sterilize personability and limit class offerings, news outlets are, naturally, sticking to coverage on the formalities of how COVID-19 is affecting us all. I don’t intend to make light of the damage the virus is doing in terms of the physical, of course. My heart is with those who have lost their lives or family members to this rapidly spreading, life-threatening disease, as well as the impact the virus is having on the livelihoods of citizens. I simply intend to give a voice to matters in which people tend to be more silent, in times of a pandemic as well as back when life was “normal”—matters of mental and emotional health.
Anyone who has dealt with anxiety, depression, and insomnia—one in particular or collectively—knows how much these and other mental health struggles impact one’s daily routine. Having combatted all three of the aforementioned at various points in my life, I can say COVID-19 causing the loss of some of my daily routines—doing my part of self-isolation shut away inside, not participating in group activities or in-person classes, social distancing from my family and friends, or even something as simple as quietly coexisting with other people typing behind my computer in a coffee shop—is threatening the “good place” I fought so hard to reach. In a moment of reflection, I worried that I hadn’t actually improved at all and had simply been “distracting” myself with daily activities and interaction. But upon further reflection, I know that is not true. I completed years of work in improving my mental health, regaining a sense of confidence, and staying spiritually sound. If anyone is questioning their progress in their mental health journey, know that processing this undigestible global event is more challenging than any of us could have anticipated. It is okay if you are still adjusting to this new, isolated way of life. Acknowledge how you feel, acknowledge the process, and try to stop any negative habits. This would be a completely different blog post if I felt experienced enough to give out tips unique to this situation, but with only about 2 and a half weeks of self-isolating/social distancing, I can’t say that I do. None of us are! Regardless, we are all experiencing this global pandemic through our own individual viewpoints and problems. Even if we sympathize with stories, we will never fully know how others are experiencing this period of time filled with uncertainty. All we can do is listen to and share stories—be there for each other (virtually, or 6 feet apart.) But to fully support others, we have to figure out what is best for ourselves, individually, first. This is when the general “feel better” solutions come into play. For some people that will mean deep cleaning or renovating in natural light, picking up a new hobby, starting that workout routine you planned while making New Year’s resolutions, reading (for fun), journaling, catching up on all of the new shows or podcasts or music you missed out on, cooking a new recipe, or just free thinking (and not about the coronavirus)! You can be any and all of these people. But what we’re not going to do is be xenophobic, ignore healthcare professionals’ recommendations, etc. And if someone wants to be my temporary quarantine parent and text me at 3am to stop stress-baking after scrolling through too many news articles, it would be much appreciated! (Kidding, but not lol.)
Until this is all over, until we are all safe globally, until I have had time to reflect on my individualistic view of this moment in time… Until then, I won’t know why I needed to experience this moment with the world as I needed to experience it—during my last semester of college, during a time of what was several fun and exciting opportunities, during the peak of my mental health in my adult life which I am fighting to keep from going under once again.
Stylistics, a branch of linguistics, is basically studying the style of language. I won’t bore you with details but, as you may have noticed, the language used in this post is in the past-tense. I know my last semester of college is not over. It’s changed. Just like life would have been following graduation anyway, which I was preparing for. However, I was preparing for that ending in bite-sized pieces, week-by-week. Students without parents—for me, at least—value our relationships with our higher ed mentors for a sense of guidance into adulthood which is otherwise absent. I, of course, value the educational aspect of college, but what I value perhaps even more is the networking, the sense of connection, the feeling of being less alone in the world. To be cut off unexpectedly is jarring—but, in a way, I guess I was expecting “something bad” to happen the week before Spring Break (though I never would have guessed something to this degree.)
In January 2014, the day before my mom told me she would be going on hospice due to breast cancer, the song “Smile” by Nat King Cole came to mind—out of nowhere. I was watching The Wiz, and at a celebratory point in the movie, pain washed over me. It didn’t make sense. The next day when my mother told me that healthcare professionals had essentially told her she would have to succumb to the disease, I knew what that pang in my chest the day before had been alluding to, anticipating, even if unknowingly.
When I got home from the day of discovering two of my classes were cancelled, and tears came to my eyes, I thought I was overreacting. You’ve had the identity of ‘student’ since you were 5. You have lived that label to its fullest, haven’t you? You aren’t graduating yet. This isn’t the last day. You’ll be back after Spring Break. Oh, God, I’m going to be one of those people who gives a full-on Oscars acceptance speech on the last day of class when everyone else just wants to leave and get on with their lives, aren’t I? I decided I had done too much thinking, so I took a nap before rehearsal.
Now I know I was not overreacting. Now I know that day actually was my last day walking on Jayhawk Boulevard as a student, my last day of classes (in-person classes, that is.) I’m amazed by the people who even after all of the postponements and cancellations, the closing businesses, and the “stay-at-home” orders, still view these responses as “overreacting.”
There is no way to “tie this blog post up with a bow” because the effects of COVID-19 are still evolving and extending. The timeline of the virus is unknown, causing more uncertainty for all, notably, through the lens of college seniors who already stood at respective points of uncertainty when looking to the future. When I originally drafted this post, students and staff were hopeful KU graduation could be held as scheduled on May 17th. A few days ago, an email was sent out with a survey for seniors, asking for other options should the spring graduation ceremony be cancelled. This past Monday, students adjusted, returning to classes and student worker jobs online. I know this isn’t “The End.” I know, “This could be a lot worse for you.” But the present moment still feels like a “Goodbye” and an “I’ll miss you.”
I miss my higher ed mentors. I miss my classmates. I miss normalcy. I miss all of the things I took for granted and all of the things I didn’t. But I know we will all come out on the other side of this stronger—as with everything that causes strain on your mental health, making you stay up that much later, making you question your future that much more…
There is so much about COVID-19 that remains unknown. But what I do know is, once this is over, I’m getting rid of the “What if I can’ts.” Seeing my name on a cast list, knowing that that character has more lines than I ever have ever had, and thinking, But what if I can’t remember all of them? Gone. Being alone in the photo lab to process film thinking, What if I can’t do this by myself? Done. Questioning my major, pretty much all of my academic decisions, thinking, What if I can’t make this work? Through.
Allow yourself to grieve the events and activities you were looking forward to. Often, the dates we anticipate on our calendars help push us towards our goals. Future dates are something visual, something to pinpoint, a way to track growth. I encourage planning. I welcome working your way up to something. But once we are all allowed to live again as we once were, I hope we don’t forget to be present. I hope we share smiles and laughter a little longer, listen a little closer to someone else’s story, congratulate the efforts of others more often—because we are all just doing the best we can with what we can. As for now, stay connected—but stay at home!
Dear COVID-19,
Now that you have taken opportunity after opportunity away from us, we will be ready to make the most of what is left of them on the other side, or create new possibilities, ones bigger than we could have ever imagined.
As for the Class of 2020? @COVID-19—You thought!! Once COVID-19 decides to sit down somewhere, go ALL OUT for your graduation announcement photos! Buy that overpriced outfit to wear to the rescheduled ceremony! Plan a graduation party even if it is just for you and your two cats in matching graduation caps! You worked through countless battles and survived through life thus far—We’ll make it to that $[xx],000 handshake and piece of paper someday.
-x, k.