Ruined routines give rise to resilience

It seems counterintuitive, but pruning increases yield in the long term. (Image by Michael Tampakakis)

I will never forget the night I realized that the pandemic was going to ruin life as we knew it. 

It was March 16, 2020. Having made the decision on that notorious Friday the 13th that we would bring our two Atlanta schools online, my team and I had successfully done it. I had just completed a series of exhausting Zoom meetings when my husband got the word that his apprenticeship program, which had closed for the day as a precaution, would be closed all week.

We looked at each other across the living room of our minuscule apartment, stunned. A week seemed like forever, and he had nowhere to go. Neither did I -- the coffee shops and the library, where I had become accustomed to working, were clearly about to close down, too. With my intensified schedule of online meetings and frosty winter weather outside, how were we going to make it through an entire week together in our tiny abode? 

We decided to pack up for the week to stay with my parents, who lived a little over a hundred miles away, just to get through until my husband’s program opened up again. You can already guess the punchline to this joke: We ended up staying there for more than two months. And my husband’s shop was closed for nearly four. 

My heart was full of grief and anxiety as we departed that night. To cheer ourselves, we listened to our favorite podcast, My Brother, My Brother, and Me, but the funny banter of the episode seemed to be from a completely different time even though it had just been released that day. The tears flowed. I felt deep concern for my students, grave worry that we would somehow be the ones to transmit the virus to my parents even though I had seen them only a week before, and panic about our giant, empty house a thousand miles away that we hoped to sell but might never be able to get back to. 

“I liked my life,” I said. “I liked my life.” I knew, driving through the dark, that the familiar routines were gone. And I didn’t know what would replace them. 

Nine months later, some of those familiar routines have returned, but most have, indeed, been replaced. And though we managed to sell our house, much of what I worried about that weird night is still in play. But I’m discovering a new resilience in myself that has been an unexpected source of delight and satisfaction in this even darker time. 

Maybe some of it is habituation -- I don’t cry anymore when I read the news. But I’m also noticing that I have more discipline and toughness than I did even a few months ago. I can leave my warm house and go out in a gale to go to the grocery store if that’s what needs to happen. I can push through and keep working on a difficult project until it’s done. I can clean the kitchen every night and fold laundry every afternoon without even questioning whether I feel like it or not. I can solve challenging problems that I have never encountered before. 

I can do all these things even when the world is falling apart and much is uncertain; when loved ones are sick; and when disappointment, if not heartbreak, is a daily occurrence. 

I’m seeing similar growth in the people around me. I see children who are remaining upbeat despite the changes. They’re thrilled to go to school when they can, wearing face masks that express their personalities and interests, and having animated conversations with friends over Zoom when they can’t. 

I see the dedicated employees of the grocery store and other shops around town, bantering with each other and with me from behind their masks and plexiglass dividers. 

I see my own employees, finding new ways to engage and serve our clients and students. Would they have believed that they would be able to handle four hours of music lessons via Zoom or three hours of an outdoor classroom in blustery weather? They’re doing it. 

I see family and friends, dealing gracefully with personal setbacks on top of everything that’s happening with the pandemic.

It’s a good thing I didn’t know on March 16 what the future would bring. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. But I did handle it. I’ve made it this far. We all have. And to keep it up for a few more months doesn’t seem so overwhelming. We’ve got what it takes. Even if we didn’t before, we do now. We’ve changed and we’ve grown. In these, the darkest days of 2020, that’s a ray of hope. 

Do you think you’ve grown more resilient since the pandemic began? What changes have you noticed? I’d love to hear in the comments.