It was the first time I’d seen my daughter in a while. Another good ol fashion Seattle grey and dark. Chance of shitshow, extra stormy.

I was sun kissed after a week in Mexico. Feeling pretty damn good despite the memories this time of year that kept bubbling into my conscious. Things that still shape my value system to this day, probably likely to never leave me. I’d been breaking my back and burning the candle at every possible end to find “the new normal” … I was going to make it happen. I still cringe when anyone calls COVID the new normal. Bish please…

I’d spent the last two months trying with all my might to manifest those damn changes. The ones I knew I needed to make. Returning home from Mexico to witness corona moving from a dad joke: “I’ll take mine with lime heh heh” to an actual “holy shit” moment. The virus was just getting started on making a name for itself outside of China and low and behold, right in my city.

Fast forward, day two at my new job. It was a Tuesday. I was still in my sky high heels and perfect outfit. I came home and caught my daughter crying in her hands over the sink. Standing on a little pink stool. Her face both defiant and sad. We own the same face. It’s so weird to see myself looking back at me. She’s angsty yet emotional with a twist of sassy attitude and an overwhelming desire to do the right thing. Her and I.. we don’t own a poker face. Our emotions resonate clear to anybody who bothers to glance beyond the sneer. She’s not yet doubtful or fearful of her voice and I’m envious of that.

“Mommy I don’t want to sing the happy birthday song! It’s not anyones birthday! I’m tired of washing my hands!” (Insert dramatic sigh and this tiny little 7 year old twisting her face in anger)

That exact moment blazed in my mind like the opening scene of a bad movie about the end of time. Is this revelations? The road? Cue the soundtrack. It was entirely surreal. Like I’d seen this movie before. Oh fuck, is this how it starts? It’s too cliché!

Yeah, so that’s how my pandemic movie starts. With a cliché.

The day we shut it fully down was my birthday. I had been out to pick up my prescriptions. Three months worth because well, panic, right? The pharmacy cashier was coughing nonstop while throwing me side eye for backing away. “I was sick before it was cool” she said while slightly rolling her eyes as I tried not to look at her in horror. “You just think it’s corona because I’m Asian” she choked at me between coughs. I mumbled “of course not” as I pulled out the last of my precious hand sanitizer and she stumbled to the back to catch her breath, the pharmacist looking on with concern.

My neighbors and I left the pharmacy, looked at each other and said “this is it huh?” Unanimously we agreed that yes, clearly this was IT. We better stop off at Montana for the final drink, right? “A pickle back? Really? Ok fine” I made sad eyes at literally everything as we split off to Dinos for a slice and one of those badly preprepared old fashions they keep on tap. The call came through as we were finishing up. Everything was done. We said goodbye. I walked home in a haze and collapsed in my hallway – sobbing uncontrollably for hours.

Happy birthday- Bet you’ll never forget 43.

What a wild fucking ride it’s been since then. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been in quarantine. March 4th was the official day I started working from home and worrying about my toilet paper supply. Back when I’d save the clothes I was planning to discard because who knows? I might need that for toilet paper later. I cooked nonstop and froze food. I worried about the rumors of the food supply and oh god, where can I get some black market Clorox wipes? I compulsively sanitized everything. We started a group chat to notify one another when amazon would release a delivery window. Sure it was 72 hours and they were out of fucking everything but hey! it was something! Stay up til midnight the rumors said. 9:42am! That’s when you get it!

HIT REFRESH NOW! FAST!

It was the hottest ticket in town.

Being stuck in this apartment alone and feeling completely uncertain has taught me a lot. It’s forced me to sit with myself. To lean in to feeling alone, to embrace it. In many ways it felt similar to the complete disconnect I’d experience after each round of surgery or chemo. Numb. Lacking routine. Not feeling like myself.

However this time there was no clear path to find return. I needed to further learn how to be in it. To dwell. To feel incredibly alone. To feel overwhelmed by social expectations.

By now I genuinely feel better. Months and months of immersive diy therapy later. Like I’ve crossed over the line into a new realm of self sustainability. I’d spent a year and half being afraid of myself. It was never good when I was alone. My social agenda kept me busy and that was the only way I could cope. I didn’t enjoy my own company. I was always trying to avoid it. The idea of traveling alone was once so daunting the very thought made me uncomfortable. I could see myself huddled under the hotel blankets, depressed yet anxiously scrolling through mindless shit on Instagram for hours. It’s a memory of doing the exact same in San Francisco. Not eating. Not turning on lights. Just huddling, closing the blinds a little tighter and wondering where that spark of normal was hiding.

I’ve watched it all die and grow and die again. The city. The plywood. The shitty graffiti leading way to the murals. The return of the toilet paper. The return of the prime delivery spot. The hand sanitizer.

The month of no liquor laws. That was the best. Walking around the neighborhood picking up hot churros, a go-cup, peeing in a bush because all the bathrooms were closed and I was on mile 8 of the day. Buffalo smile!

The “others” had fled Capitol Hill. People went home to where they came from. To all the far flung places where everything is certainly flat and likely conservative. The places Amazon brought them here from. Learn to live in the rain! Haha. Only the strongest survive. The rest went back to their friends and family in the south or Midwest or whatever and don’t let the door hit ya.

The seasons kept changing yet it all stood still. It’s been back to just us. Back to where I came from.

Fade into the sunset. Welcome home to 1998. Spark up a bad habit and let the games begin.

At least until June. The pear flipped right upside down again in June. Never get too comfortable…

But thats an entirely new story. One full of choppers, fires, change and anxiety.

To be told.