How I Have Changed in the Past Year
It’s been a year of self-discovery
This essay has been made possible by COVID-19. Prior to the pandemic, I was lucky if I wrote anything longer than a paragraph. But in the past year and a half, I have gone from a reluctant writer to a full-blown essayist. I recently wrote a four-page essay for a graduate application. It may not seem like much, but to me, that was an incredible feat.
The pandemic forced me to deal with my fear and hesitation. Writing essays was one of them. I was unable to an essay since 2015. The reason was in April of that year I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was struck by a tremendous amount of depression and fear. In addition, my body was traumatized by multiple biopsies, surgeries, and radiation treatments. I lost my hair and gained over twenty pounds due to the chemotherapy used to rid my body of cancer. I was a wreck both mentally and physically.
As I tried to focus on my health, more trauma struck my family. My mother was diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer. Immediately, my focus shifted from my own healing to taking care of my mother. I was determined that both of us would beat cancer. I took time from work to help my mother with her treatments and surgery. All the while, essay writing was not on my radar.
I tried to write during that time. But the most I could focus on were poems. I loved poetry and used the genre to help me through my fears and worries. I would read poetry, listened to poets share their work, and attended workshops. Poetry became the balm to soothe my angst.
But then my mother died and my body went numb. It took a year before I felt any sensation in my body. During that time, I blamed myself for my mother’s death. My mind was in torment. It affected my poems. Just about every poem I wrote since my mother’s passing was about her or my wish to bring her back.
My mother is in the ether. She is not coming back. I‘ve come to accept that fact. I hate every bit of it. Death has caused me anxiety and stress. My poems reflect a woman who wants death to die. To feel the anguish it causes to millions each year and to millions of those left behind their families, and friends.
As I wrestled with my grief, the pandemic arrived, Death was having a field day. We currently have lost over 600,000 Americans to the virus. A million people died from COVID-19 worldwide. States shut down. Most businesses were forced to pivot with their services. Others had to shut down. Only essential businesses were allowed to remain open (pharmacies, groceries stores, etc.).
But in the midst of the death and the global economic downturn, something else was happening behind the scenes. Millions of people began working at home. Millions more who had lost their jobs were starting their own businesses and creating content online. The internet became a vital tool to keep people connected to each other. Plus, people were recreating themselves on various social media platforms, like Twitter, Instagram, and Tik Tok.
My change came from looking at this growing digital economy. People needed artists, creators, and writers. People needed storytellers and web wizards. With the country on lockdown, millions of people were glued to their cell phones and laptops in need of entertainment. A creative renaissance was born from the pandemic.
I used my at-home time to study art, learn how to draw, and work on my writing, I wrote more poetry, sent out my work, and even won my first poetry contest. In addition, I organized my home, started gardening, and became more active on social media. I post content on Instagram and watch videos to hone my craft on Youtube. I grew my knowledge and used it to increase my writing.
As I was doing all of that, my most profound realization happened — I was living and I wanted to live. While I still mourned my mother, I wanted to explore the world around me — even if it was on my phone. I was learning and doing, creating and growing. And I loved it.
Now, I write essays. It’s like a volcano of stories has erupted within me. My essays flow out into the world, touching others. The pandemic brought out the creativity in me. But I know that part of me was always there. It was there when I was a little girl, writing stories in handmade notebooks. It’s there as I draw in my sketchbook or paint on canvas. It’s there when I make a piece of jewelry. It’s there now as I type this essay and the next one and the next one.
