2020 so far:
I sold my childhood home.
I moved my mom out of said home and into a condo.
I drank wine. A lot.
I came out as bipolar to both my colleagues and an audience of 1,800 at a concert that I curated about music and the mind.
Covid struck, erasing 6 months of work and plunging my industry into chaos and an uncertain future.
I washed my hands. A lot.
As the primary breadwinner or the family, said erasing of work plunged my family into financial uncertainty.
I spent a lot of time in bed, reading news on my iPad and trying not to throw up from anxiety.
I ran. A lot.
I bought a ring light, signed up for Canva, set up my mic, pulled out my keyboard, mastered iMovie and taught myself how to be me in a totally different way.
I helped create one of the earliest virtual orchestra projects at the beginning of lockdown.
Pinkerton sustained a traumatic spinal injury in a freak accident – my amazing friends set up a GoFundMe to pay for the heart-stoppingly expensive surgery.
I cried. A lot.
I celebrated my 20th wedding anniversary.
I connected more frequently with friends far away, through Zoom and Marco Polo and texts and old fashioned phone calls.
I connected more frequently with friends close by, through weekly walks, socially distanced hikes and outdoor happy hours.
I brought groceries to our elderly neighbors and checked up on immunocompromised friends and worried endlessly over the health of our parents.
We ran some financial projections and came to the realization that we could no longer to afford our apartment – 5 days later we signed a lease on a new place, and 2 weeks after that we moved.
I continued to run. A lot.
The unexpected unemployment gave me ample time to really flesh out some vague ideas I’d kept in the back of my mind – the skills I’d learned allowed me to create a vibrant presentation – I’m developing a project with some really creative people that may take my life in a new direction.
In another unexpected twist, I was brought on board to host TV broadcast/livestreams of live concerts by the Minnesota Orchestra.
I reflected on my life. A lot.
You could look at this all in different ways. On one had, the pandemic is a shattering disruption to life. On the other, it’s a universal pause and, hopefully, a reset. I’ve never been so anxious and depressed in my entire life (and I’ve been through more than most). I’ve also never felt so grounded in compassion and connection.
If you added everything up, the good, the bad, the ugly, it may be a zero-sum game. But right now that very neutrality is allowing me the footing to move forward, in directions I never thought I’d travel, and in the work of being myself. I’ll keep seeing where it takes me.