2020: My year of unwanted but welcomed clarity.
I entered the year 2020 clad in a gold spandex jumpsuit I picked up online from American Apparel. I couldn’t have looked or felt any better. My life wasn’t bad either. I lived in a cozy downtown apartment in a vibrant city I had come to love. I was surrounded by a curated group of friends and worked a job I enjoyed even if I had been there a little longer than I would have liked. Like the rest of the world, I was full of hope and anticipation for the upcoming year. An entirely new decade ready for the taking, and I was ready to take!
“New Year, new me!” I declared in an obligatory New Year's day post on Instagram. “2019 was a deeply transformative year for me. One of #selfdiscovery, #selflove and most importantly, #selfmastery. I can’t wait to share what I’ve learned.” All this was of course true. I had grown a lot over the last two years, the result of a harsh betrayal and now like the caterpillar I was ready to burst from the emotional cocoon I had constructed for my own healing. I danced the night away in the arms of a stranger I knew I’d never see again even if he didn’t.
The year started off well enough, lofty intentions pertaining to my career, lifestyle, hobbies and relationships were set and safely guarded in my journal. My birthday came and went with little ado and I went about my usual activities of work and dinners and nights out with friends. I even successfully completed “dry January” which is no easy feat for someone with as little self discipline as myself. The coronavirus we would come to know as COVID-19 had yet to rear its ugly head in my part of the world. All was well.
Towards the end of February however, I began to realize that perhaps something was amiss in my little bubble. I had a nagging feeling about work that wouldn’t go away, maybe it really was time to start something new, and cracks I was oblivious to, had began to appear in my friendship quad. In what I now call my first rush of clarity, I somehow got back in touch with the very ex who had caused my emotional spiral two years prior. The conversation didn’t go as planned. I wanted him back, he said no. I didn’t believe him.
By March, desperate for something new to usher in the glittering decade, I decided to leave my job to pursue yet undefined “creative ventures”. After mulling over the decision, I was ready to take the plunge, heart, mind and soul aligned. Fate had a different plan however. That same week, widespread lockdown measures were declared worldwide. It seems COVID-19, China’s problem was now all our problem. Somewhere between the mad grab for toilet paper and widespread confusion about what was happening, I decided that perhaps this wasn’t the right time to be without gainful employment. I went into hiding alone with the rest of the world.
As a self-proclaimed introvert, the first few months of lockdown were fairly tolerable. Of course no one anticipated that this unnatural way of living would become our “new normal”. Still thinking there was an end in sight in the near future, I occupied my time with work, virtual chats with friends and my wild imaginings. It was during this time that I discovered the #100dayproject and decided to participate by starting this blog. The fun lasted about a month. Interest waned. There was little by way of stimulation. I had never spent this much time alone and in my own company. Although I was never bored or lonely, the monotony of it all was exhausting. I wondered when this would all end. I looked forward to getting back to the life I had defined for myself these last five years.
Summertime provided a brief reprieve. It seemed we would soon return to the ‘normal’ flow of things. I even managed a trip in July to Alberta, “the beautiful province” to see a friend. It was during this trip that I received my second rush of clarity on top of Ha Ling Peak in Canmore. I didn’t want to spend another second at the job that had brought me so much joy and opportunities to learn and grow over the years even if we were in the middle of a pandemic.
I had, quite abruptly, stumbled to the end of that chapter of my career. There were no more pages to turn and to deny this would be to defy the deep knowing within. I had stubbornly disregarded this knowing at a previous job only for it to end in disaster. This time, I was going to take matters into my own hands. Grudgingly but with deep conviction that I was doing the right thing no matter how illogical it seemed to everyone else, I tendered by resignation at the end of that fateful sojourn.
Fall rolled in and I was unattached in all possible ways. I felt a deep sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in a very long time. In fact, the only other time I had felt this free was when I first arrived in Canada from Ghana at the age of 18, all alone in a new country. Anything was possible. This time, it was as if I had hit the reset button on my life. This notion was echoed by others as increasingly 2020 became known as the reset year, this pioneered by fellow countryman Edward Enninful at British Vogue. My optimism was at an all time high at the end of August as I set out to define and write the next chapter, or would it be an entire new book of my life.
Throughout September, October and even part of November I was delirious with imagination, flitting from one idea to the next. I called this exploring. By December I was hit with my third and final wave of clarity as it became increasingly clear that along with being a reset year, 2020 was also the year of the “Hanged Man". For those of you unfamiliar with the tarot, the Hanged Man calls for a pause, complete surrender to unforeseen forces and a 180 degree shift in perspective. Perhaps this should have been obvious when my blog project was stalled. It wasn’t that I had given up on it, my heart was committed. That I knew. I simply couldn’t move it past the inception phase and to force it at the time would have been futile and deeply unproductive. The same thing happened now. All my creative sparks remained just that, sparks, waiting to burst into flames but not just yet. I listened to the knowing, biding my time, the right time.
I suppose on some level I understood that the pause button had been pushed on my life. Admittedly, it had been for a few years. The change in perspective however, I didn’t quite expect, so confident I was on the right track. That came on as my exploring phase wound down and for the first time all year, I was struck with a deep sense of boredom. With no more changes to make or ponder, no daily work routine, and no more ideas to explore, I began to feel imprisoned by my apartment and the very city I had loved just a few short months prior. The Groundhog Day-ness of it all became unbearable. I began to reflect on the year. Had I really spent half of it alone, save the odd romantic entanglement and meetings with friends?
While I lay in bed one morning, reluctant to go about the same day again, I began to compose a scathing letter to COVID-19 in my mind. Filled with anger, I began:
“
Dear COVID-19,
How dare you? You came along and without asking, made a complete mockery of my existence revealing harsh truths I wasn’t ready to know or accept. I was happy living my life until you said: “this is no way to live life!” What if I chose superficial distractions over real connections and responsibility? What if I chose myself above all else? That was my choice to make and you had absolutely no right to reveal my reality to me. I wasn’t ready to see. You rushed me with your command to sit still and reflect. Why couldn’t you just let me be? Just for a little while longer. I hate that what I had been denying you've now made clear. More than anything I hate that now that I can see, I have to do something about it and embrace the changes, in myself and in my surroundings and circumstances, I have been avoiding for so long. I won't forgive you for this added burden of doing what I ultimately know will bring justice to my life.
”
I spent the rest of the day seething. When a friend came by for a visit a few days later, I told her about my anger. She laughed it off, likely attributing the intense emotions to my sometimes dramatic nature. The more I raged, mostly to myself, the less angry I became. Soon, I was filled with gratitude for my enlightenment. Better now than later I suppose, for surely, even without the help of COVID-19, later would have arrived. Enlightenment is a powerful thing. As I enter 2021, eyes wide open, I am filled with the same hope and anticipation. If 2020 was the year of the hanged man and a time to reset, then 2021 is the year of second chances and a redo. As I hit play on my life, I am ready to live from this new found perspective.
