What 2020 Taught Me (I Know, I Know, It’s Cliche)

*This is a love story*

To quote CNN’s Jake Tapper after the first presidential debate, 2020 was “a hot mess, inside a dumpster fire, inside a train wreck.” When the pandemic hit the US in March, I was living in NYC alone and constantly on the go. I was hopping from my steady 9–5 job to film sets to late night meals with friends. In my head, I was a chic plus size Carrie Bradshaw with my chestnut curls blowing in the exact direction of the wind and making the city bend to my will. In reality, I wore the same frizzy bun on my head and beat up Adidas Superstars everyday AND I WAS EXHAUSTED.

When NYC essentially shut down, my world (along with everyone else’s) came to a furious halt. The city that never sleeps was putting us all to bed early, and I thrived on staying up late. Anxiety pulsed through my veins and despite the rapidly climbing numbers, I was SO sure we’d be back in action by April. I set up shop to work from home, ordered way too much food on Instacart, Rear Window’d my neighbors, and along the way lost my sense of taste and smell too. Though the news convinced me that because I was a fat person I was going to die, I luckily had a mild case and got my smell back during Passover when I burned walnuts for the first charoset I ever made. (Thanks Aunt Tina for the recipe!)

I eventually tested positive for antibodies and exhaled for the first time in awhile. I thought, “Okay, this is it right? I’ve ripped the 2020 bandaid off myself.” However, the universe smirked and said, “No dear, you’re about to lose your job and weave in and out of depressive periods.” I know I’m not alone in experiencing the 2020 special and that equally comforts me and saddens me. While I’d like to bury this year under a rug like I did with 9–11 until I could fully process my trauma surrounding it, I’m choosing to take the introspective path. So, without further ado, here is what I’ve learned from the my neighbors, my city, my world, and most importantly myself.

1. Why do I need to touch my face 4,000 times a day? Seriously, did I touch my face this much before the pandemic or am I only doing this now that I’m not supposed to?
2. No matter how much hot sauce you pour over food, your taste does NOT come back. It does, however, still make you a fire breathing dragon with an extremely numb tongue.
3. Boomers either take Covid so seriously they freak out when you cough at them over Zoom or don’t care at all. (When did I become the parent in my familial situation, making sure my Dad doesn’t try to sneak into his apartment building gym?)
4. Bodega’s are the universe’s gift to NYC. Oh you can’t find paper towels or toilet paper ANYWHERE? Thank goodness Jimmy across the street doesn’t miss a beat and has Bounty on tap. (And the rolling paper I like — thanks J!)
5. Speaking of rolling paper, did the price of weed go up or is it just me?
6. How come the only thing I can watch after consuming a day full of the news is Frozen 2 on Disney+? I didn’t even like the first Frozen, so what is it about Frozen 2 for me?
7. Memes about before and after quarantine bodies are not only mean, they are extremely triggering for people who have experienced or are dealing with eating disorders.
8. I know that while NYC is full of people, it can also feel like the loneliest place on earth. But living alone during the pandemic taught me it’s actually the opposite. Your fellow New Yorkers are your family, waving to you from windows and across the hall and helping you remember what the city was and will be again. That energy is tangible and cannot be destroyed, no matter what the orange cheeto says.
9. This whole time period has showed me who my friends really are. I’m so grateful to those who checked up on me, scheduled Zooms with me, listened to me, let me cry, and ask a thousand times if we were all going to be okay. I lost touch with many people, but the friendships that stuck have become Fort Knox. (I love you more than the Ritz Diner cucumbers, B.)
10. Dogs make everything better. I always knew this, but just wanted to reiterate it. We don’t deserve them!
11. It’s okay if you relapsed. Forgive yourself. Read that again. Whether it’s experiencing symptoms of an eating disorder again like me or something else, we’re going to be okay.
12. While I miss the kinetic energy of the city and my schedule, it’s also okay to slow down and go with the flow. Not every day or every year is going to build on whatever trajectory you were on. Sometimes you find yourself on more of an unexpected educational journey, and we should never take the opportunity to learn for granted.
13. I don’t know how to convince people to care about others. I’ve spent months racking my brain not understanding how people won’t do as something as simple as wear a mask to protect the most vulnerable. Maybe there will never be an answer to those who don’t care and that is something I have to accept.
14. Healthcare workers and teachers are heroes. And the clap across the world at 7pm for healthcare workers was a demonstration of the heart of humanity. It does exist and it is there, even if we don’t always see it.
15. Justice can overcome injustice. We just can’t be blind to it. I feel shameful that it took the death of George Floyd to wake up to the realities of the injustice of the Black community. I’ve always considered myself someone who didn’t stand for racism, but that wasn’t enough. This year taught me to check my privilege constantly and become more active in the work to seek reparations for Black folks and demolish systemic racism once and for all. #BLM
16. Take the wins where you can. I know people won’t like that I compare the 2020 Presidential Election to a battle for good versus evil, but that’s what it felt like. The cheers that erupted when Biden was declared President-elect was the most hopeful I felt all year. I’ll never forget that feeling or the warmth of the tears that streamed down my cheeks as goodness prevailed. (Also shout out to Don Lemon, his election coverage, and 10pm time slot for easing my anxiety about our democracy being at stake.)
17. Despite battling extreme depression and anxiety at times, I know I can support myself emotionally and that is enough. Living alone through the pandemic was extraordinary lonely at times, especially as I watched families quarantine together. But, at the end of the day, I have and me and that’s the most gratifying thing in the world. For all of you who experienced similar situations, I see you.
18. I love my body for loving me, even when I can’t. Body liberation is a journey, not a destination. When Covid first hit and the fatphobic memes started flooding social media, and I was alone and sick in my apartment, my eating disorder resurfaced. I bought too much food (though I had no appetite) and dreamed of unzipping my fat away once again. But after I was lucky enough to recover from Covid, I appreciated my body more than ever for waking me up every day, keeping my blood flowing, and protecting me from a deadly virus. Sometimes body positivity is just as simple as that.
19. What’s ironic about taking a few steps backwards is that you realize perhaps you weren’t as ahead as you thought. Recently, a traumatic experience made me recognize that I’m not over my past and I need to get back into therapy. I wasn’t proud of myself for the way this incident played out, but I know it’s time for yet another reincarnation of myself. I’m slowly learning that just because I’m in my 30s (and eventually 40s, 50s, etc…) doesn’t mean I won’t continue to reincarnate and recalibrate.
20. A good quote is soul-quenching. This is for all the sensitive-hearted folk out there from Glennon Doyle’s 2020 memoir Untamed — “Tish is sensitive, and that is her superpower. The opposite of sensitive is not brave. It’s not brave to refuse to pay attention, to refuse to notice, to refuse to feel and know and imagine. The opposite of sensitive is insensitive, and that’s no badge of honor.”
21. There’s nothing like coming home to NYC to mend a broken heart. As I sit here writing this in my little studio apartment in the heart of Manhattan, it simply feels like home. Like a place to continue to heal alongside the rest of the world. To all those heartbroken and scared and trying the best to keep their families taken care of, I’m thinking of you.
22. I still hate odd numbers, no matter how old I get. I couldn’t end on this on an odd number, y’all!