Life and the Lessons of 2020
I know. Nothing miraculously changed at 11:59pm on December 31st. The truth was, the change happened all year long. New Year’s Eve just closed the chapter on that journey.
I’ll admit, I made a vision board for 2021. I tend to do one every year and find the process cathartic. This year, as I clipped photos of beautiful locations and clean houses, I felt a twinge of sadness along with the usual aspiration. Clipping images of beautiful foreign places, I grieved for all the traveling I didn’t do in 2020. I grieved for a world that felt irrevocably changed. I grieved for relationships lost due to folks who felt racism wasn’t a deal breaker. I grieved for ways I didn’t handle certain things better. I reckoned with being human… still.
That’s the thing about New Year’s Eve. The weight of the year is on your shoulders. January 1st serves as the symbolic closure needed to move on. It gives us the permission to say, “Ok, I am serious about getting rid of that which no longer serves me.” And then… you have to say goodbye.
Let’s be honest, 2020 was a lot. At one point, I wanted to get rid of everything in my life. I lost two family members in Brazil to COVID. I started a demanding job. I managed to not get COVID. I failed at painting. I recorded music again. I baked a lot. I gave up yoga. I meditated more. I tried to finish books and found it nearly impossible. I eased into audiobooks. I watched as certain success gurus hailed the benefits of “hustle” — as lives fell apart. (I will never be that executive or life hack guru — but that’s a separate conversation about how patriarchal whiteness pervades popular culture and corporate America.) I saw friends pivot and launch new businesses out of necessity. I saw others close shop and move out of Los Angeles. I saw friends relapse… and die. I turned 12 years sober. Yin / yang. Yin / yang. All year long.
Throughout the year, as the onion peel of life folded back layer after layer, I watched as I changed more and more. I evolved into someone who rested in grey areas, versus absolutes. Someone who could say, “I like that for you” without needing to impart my opinion or judgment on the matter. Someone who could walk away casually from relationships that didn’t serve me — without fanfare or announcement. I began to ruthlessly make decisions with a goal of comforting myself. It felt like this scene from Magnolia…
I had entered a world that felt like science fiction and yet, it was normal.
This is something that happens.
We have learned how bizarre real life can truly be. We have learned how much we can not control any one or any thing. We have learned that we can only control ourselves. That we must take responsibility for our lives. At one point, while doing research on the proliferation of conspiracy theory, I found this quotation by British writer Alan Moore:
The main thing that I learned about conspiracy theory is that conspiracy theorists actually believe in a conspiracy because that is more comforting. The truth of the world is that it is chaotic. The truth is, that it is not the Jewish banking conspiracy or the grey aliens or the 12 foot reptiloids from another dimension that are in control. The truth is more frightening, nobody is in control. The world is rudderless.
The crux of that quotation to me is the word “comforting.” What all of us wanted in 2020 was comfort. Comfort in others. Comfort in health. Comfort in food. Comfort in elected officials. But ultimately, what we realized, was that we must learn how to comfort ourselves.
2020 made us more sensitive. I remember the first time I drove my car after three weeks of stay at home order. It felt like I was entering a foreign universe. Staying home and away from social stimuli made me sensitive to which people and places don’t serve me. I became more bold in asking for what I needed. I became more honest about my journey and in seeking comfort. I felt like a raw nerve and I could no longer settle for people, places or things that did not add to my life.
Sometimes we wait for others to give us permission to be ourselves. If that’s you, may 2021 be the year that you give yourself permission to be you.
Most recently, after insurrectionists stormed the Capitol here in the US, I told my boss that I was done for the day. I was tired of dealing with the umpteenth “unprecedented event” of the last year and acting like it was nothing. This was something and it’s been something. Thankfully, my boss is supportive and was also done for the day. But, I’ll tell you this, it was still hard for me to voice it. I’m a senior executive with 20 years of experience and it’s still hard for me to ask for what I want. Is it because I’m Latina and was raised to stay quiet? Is it because of societal pressures? Is it because corporate America heralds “mental toughness” or “grit” and uses work / life balance as an empty platitude while the assembly line churns on? I am not sure, and maybe it doesn’t matter — but what 2020 taught me was to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
So friends, lean into the discomfort of asking for what you need — even if it’s only in small ways. Lean into the discomfort of giving yourself what you need. Maybe it’s saying “no” to a friend coming over who doesn’t social distance. Maybe it’s looking for a new job. Maybe it’s quitting drinking. Maybe it’s cutting down on social media. Maybe it’s taking the plunge to explore the idea of moving somewhere else.
I have a hunch that you know what it is. It’s that thing inside you telling you to try to be a little more you. And listen, it doesn’t have to be a big leap. I’m currently wearing a fluorescent yellow sweater for my day of video calls. That’s my little bit of me-ness for the day. This stupid sweater makes me happy — so I’m wearing it. You do you.
Lean into your authentic voice.
This is our year — regardless of what happens.
When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. - Viktor Frankl
