If there is one thing I think everyone can relate to, it is all that pandemic has taken from us. Losing loved ones, losing progress, losing ourselves. Losing time. There has been far too much loss, on all fronts, over the past few years.
If you were struggling with mental illness before the pandemic, maybe it got worse in isolation. If you weren’t struggling before, maybe you began to. Maybe your demons became more familiar, and maybe more time alone is not what you needed. If this resonates with you, please know you are not alone. If the pandemic birthed new struggles that you are still dealing with, you are not alone. If it amplified pre-existing battles, you are not alone. You are a fighter, and together we will fight. I will be vulnerable here, and tell you that for me, old demons came knocking, and time alone was not my friend. With time alone, lots of people took up new hobbies as distractions, but for me, distractions never seemed to work. If you couldn’t find solace in distractions either, you are not alone.
I want to talk about time. The way that all the days of isolation, of restrictions and limitations, began to effortlessly blur together as if you were sitting on a moving train, looking out the window, watching your life pass by. Don’t get me wrong, every day felt like an eternity, but the sameness of each day just made them all seem to blend together into a personal hell-loop. Feeling the uncertainty of how long things would carry on like this but at the same time bitter certainty of cancellations and closures. Looking ahead at the calendar at every event you were once looking forward to, to find them crossed out with sharpie. Did you miss out on right-of-passage events? Trips? Experiences? Did you become distant with close friends? Could I ramble on about the worst parts of the pandemic? Yes. Will I? Maybe another time. But today, I want to talk about time, and what I did when I finally got it back.
I grew up during the pandemic. Quite literally, and legally, I became an adult. I remember my Dad once telling me about how wild it felt when he graduated highschool and stepped out into the world with no commitments. Freedom. Or what he did when he finally turned 18. Or when he turned 19. But nobody could’ve prepared me for finally getting to adulthood, within grasp of said freedom, but feeling like I had none at all. Let’s not dwell on this either. Flash forward to summer 2021, after finishing my first year of university. I was feeling lost, that time had escaped me, and that I had some work to do on myself. I made independence the focus of my summer, with goals of self-betterment, exploration, and understanding. You could say I was going fishing, and I wanted to catch who I wanted to be.
I ventured solo; to various coffee shops, one-nighters at beach motels, to markets, into the city. I took up hiking, and found healing through reconnecting with nature. But the best thing I did for myself that summer was go on a solo road trip. After feeling trapped for so long, it was time to get out, to explore; to see. I packed my bags into my 2006 Honda Civic and just drove, a week out to the east coast and back. I stayed in hostels, motels, b&b’s and even camped for a night. I ate out at restaurants alone, I went out for drinks alone, I walked beaches alone. I drove not knowing where I was going to stop for the night, I drove with my music too loud, with my windows down, with the breeze of the sea filling my car and my lungs. And I was lucky. I am not naive to that. I had no problems, no encounters, not a moment where I feared for my safety. And that is exactly what I needed. To be reminded of all the good.
I met good people, shared drinks and stories with some, and a laugh with others. I was witness to goodness, saw the east coast and the ocean, and found beauty in the mundaneness of lives lived in every place I drove through. The world felt bigger, and I felt smaller, but in the best way. It was as if the world was beckoning to me to explore more of it. The road healed my mind, and my soul, from whatever the heck had happened to it. I was able to change my thought patterns, work through losses, and dream about tomorrows. In those moments I was whole, I was healed, I was free.
Sometimes healing comes when you don’t expect it, and you heal from things you didn’t know you needed to heal from. I came back from my trip changed, with a better sense of self, with pride in the independence I had gone searching for and returned with. I came back feeling ready, and stronger, than I had felt in a long time. Grounded. I realized that time alone was never the problem, but the mental environment I had trapped myself in was. I am beyond thankful for my summer. For the ground-breakingly good vanilla latte I had in Lunenburg. For the bartender in Quebec City. For the lady that taught me how to play pool, over beers, in a hostel basement in Montreal. For my Civic, for not leaving me stranded at the side of the road. And on a more serious note, for myself. For being brave, determined, and still curious, after the number that the past few years had done on me.
Again, I’ll say to you, healing comes when you don’t expect it, and you heal from things you didn’t know you needed to heal from. The only thing about healing is that you have to fight to keep the progress you’ve made. But like I also said already, together we will fight. If I can motivate you to do one thing, it is to claim your own independence, no matter how small of an act you do to try to do so. Try going somewhere alone, make more time for yourself, open your mind and heart to the world. Be brave, stay curious, and above all, be kind to yourself. We are all healing.