How I'm Dealing with the Intense Changes of 2020

Humans are creatures of habit. We’re resistant to change. We grumble when apps update their platforms. We drag our feet when it’s time to reset the clocks. We groan behind the new protection of our facemasks.

But, eventually—slowly and furtively—we adapt.

We forget the brown hues of Instagram’s old widget. We grow used to winter’s abysmal darkness. We recognize our neighbors by just their eyes.

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To say 2020 dropped a bag full of changes over our heads like a cartoon anvil would be an understatement. We watched as people and animals fled from fires around the globe. Our hands cracked from constant sanitizer. We entertained ourselves inside for months, lost physical contact with loved ones, and watched as our grandmas became tech-savvy. We anxiously awaited election results from behind screens and mail-in ballots. We mourned the loss of loved ones—and the loss of strangers.

All this change has brought great unrest and anguish.

Our routines have been prodded like goats in a petting zoo. Our comfort has spilled over the floor, staining the carpet. Our nerves have lashed out, whether we tried to control them or not.

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Last week, I returned to working in person. The night before, I found myself clinging to the couch, nails sunk deep into my pilling sweatpants. The world around me had changed. I no longer greeted people with hugs or kisses, but with a nod and a masked smile. I missed seeing the faces of my students. I missed the chaos and those quiet moments between classes. I missed the feeling of accomplishment and the “good” kind of stress... but I wasn’t ready to be catapulted back into my old reality of early mornings and late evenings.

I’d been working from home since March—eight months since I last stepped foot in a classroom, eight months of seeing my students’ faces blurred by the static of computer screens, and eight months since I’d squeezed into a pair of jeans. Back when the pandemic hit Spain, and we went into lockdown, my brain panicked at the thought of teaching online. I couldn’t fathom how I’d coach English to second-language learners over Zoom. But after eight months of “please unmute yourself” and teaching to tiny black squares, I couldn’t imagine how I ever had the energy to leave the house and interact with the outside world for 12 hours a day.

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Why is change so unnerving?

I think it’s fear of the unknown. It’s why we stay in the same town year after year, dreaming of someone else’s life but never buying the plane ticket. It’s why we stay in relationships that don’t quite fit. It’s the fear of not finding love again. Of being alone. Of rejection. Of failure.

Some changes are inevitable. The unwelcome hairs that appear as hormones flood growing bodies. The leaves that brown and fall, clearing the way for new seasons. The silver streaks in our hair and the losses that arrive unexpectedly in our lives. We deal with the inevitable. We create new paths. We buy hair dye. We either display or cover the transition.

We go to the grocery store like any other day, despite knowing the world will never be quite the same.

I’m steadily adapting to the twists and turns of my new routine. Some changes we get to choose. I choose to make positive alterations to the cozy, yet slightly self-destructive, nest I built during lockdown. Energy begets energy, after all. I’ve made a plan to kindle the flames of change.

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Here are the ways I’m harnessing the energy needed to embrace the nerve-wracking newness in my life:

Wake up with a podcast that entertains and inspires you

If you’re someone who hits snooze three to four times, this one’s for you. Reward yourself with morning treats—like a podcast you look forward to. A good one will pull you out of bed like the smell of frying bacon. Instead of focusing on the mountain of tasks ahead, listen to stories, interviews, and news from around the world. Try these podcasts: Death, Sex & Money; The Daily; My Favorite Murder; This American Life; Co-Conspired Conversations; This Is Actually Happening; and Fall of Civilizations.

Change up your commute to work

I live in a city, so I’m lucky enough to be creative in my commute.

If you need energy: bike. Feel the adrenaline as you zip past city buses. Remember to buy a helmet. Avoid slippery street grates. Arrive a little sweaty but alert.

If your podcast is really good: walk. Enjoy the cold air on your cheeks. Regret your choice of heeled boots. Make mental notes to buy better shoes. Arrive with a clear mind but sore feet.

If you're in a lazy mood: take the bus or metro. Not because it’s lazy, but because it lets you operate on autopilot. Listen to a groovy playlist on Spotify and zombie-walk to the bus stop. Scan your pass. Stare out the window. Make no mental notes. Exit after exactly 12 minutes.

Go outside for lunch

Step away from your desk and avoid microwaving leftovers in the dim common room. Sit in a coffee shop, even if just for 45 minutes. Order a piece of cheesecake, eat each bite while reading or browsing Medium. Make a to-do list, including things you’ve already accomplished, just to cross them off and feel good about yourself.

Plan exciting recipes for dinner

Have a stocked fridge to avoid the 7 p.m. grocery store shuffle. Make something exotic and tangy. Try new recipes or lean into old favorites. Choose three from Half Baked Harvest each week to look forward to.

Make plans with people

Don’t wait for others to reach out. Go for a drink after work with a friend who has good stories. Take a class—cooking, Spanish, yoga. Without plans, it’s too easy to fall into Netflix reruns and frozen pizza.

Have a night to do nothing

Take your pants off (but put them back on to answer the door for takeout). Light candles and watch TV or a new movie. Drink tea, wine, or whiskey in fuzzy socks. Just be.

Take long walks with no destination

Sometimes alone, sometimes with a quiet friend. Take different streets each time. Discover hidden street art. Imagine the lives of those who live in the houses you pass.

Make at least one weekend plan

Plan an adventure, big or small. Whether it’s an Ikea run or a day trip, have something to look forward to. You might not escape the Sunday Scaries, but at least you’ll have harnessed enough energy to face Monday.

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Being back at work is a bittersweet change. It’s not the same as living in sweatpants with Digestive biscuits, novels, and vacillating between self-loathing and self-pampering. But at least now, I’m building a path forward—out of the house instead of just from the couch to the kitchen.