Not sure why I never posted this in March 2020, (perhaps because it’s a little whiney, but you know what?! – that’s how I felt) – but here goes. I thought I’d send this as the holidays approach because sometimes the holidays can feel like this, too. Lonely, grinch-y, missing those not with us. And that’s okay. 

Cancellations came like a tidal wave in early March. No Cher. No Michael Buble’.  No March Madness or Coachella. Sure. We get it. No huge gatherings. But then the tide turned…green. Ireland was canceling St. Patrick’s Day! What? No parade in Ireland?! Does it even count as a holiday if you don’t carry out the traditions?  I’m part-Irish, but even if I weren’t, I’d still like it. What happened to the “luck of the Irish?”

In the wake of Covid-19 becoming a global pandemic, for the first time on St. Patrick’s Day, there would be no kissing. No pinching. That’s when the tidal wave started feeling personal…crashing over our bodies and beginning to affect our mental health.

Even though the United States seemed pretty lax in our response, businesses and cities were taking matters into their own hands. Here in OKC, they stopped an NBA game JUST as tip-off was about to happen because a visiting player had tested positive for the virus, and he wasn’t even in the arena.

Whoa. Now, it seemed our cities were flooded with cancellations and so was our inbox. Every day a new announcement, whether a cancelation, postponement or a safety message on how xyz business was going to take measures to ensure your safety.

As someone who plans social events for a living with a personality type that thrives on novelty and change and people…I began to feel like I was drowning. I was able to make my leadership conference virtual, but most everything else had to be canceled or postponed. I became a mournful mermaid with a siren song of grief for the spring events that wouldn’t be.

March Sadness just kept getting sadder. College students poured onto beaches only to find the beaches closed down half-way into their vacation. Families who flocked to ski resorts got only one, if any, ski days because the resorts shut down. It seemed there was no break, nowhere to run or hide or escape. Even if you tried not to look at your phone for doomsday surfing with world news, the evidence was right in front of you. Closed signs.

The weather in Oklahoma seemed to join in our collective sorrow, providing five days in a row of gray skies and intermittent thunder storms. When the sun finally emerged, it felt like the curse had been lifted, at least for a few hours. But even that didn’t last. It’s storming again now as I type this.

My twenty-two year old son was in California for spring break with three other friends visiting another best friend. During their stay, the restaurants had gone from every other table “social distancing” to closed altogether. They mostly hung on the beach and hiked, so nature was welcome relief. So was getting this picture from him. I need to see that he was safe, and, well, away from hoards of people.

Likewise, my nineteen year old daughter was visiting her boyfriend in Colorado when things began shutting down, but they had the mountains for hiking and isolated themselves at home playing games and watching Netflix. Another calming photo. Bless you, my children!

But I’m not the type to just curl up and count my losses. I swore I would still wear my green wig on St. Patrick’s Day and planned a happy hour with several of my boss Chicks who are members of Chicks in Charge, a social networking group. Five of us jumped on the Zoom happy hour. We promised not to use the C-word. It was fun to laugh and see each other in “person” even if just on the laptop screen.

These are the things you start to miss. The sound of voices. The sound of laughter. Expressions. Body language. Eye contact.

I highly recommend it. And even if you think your introverted friends are okay, they could use the connection, too. Reach out and check on each other! Don’t let the fear of this thing keep us from being extra kind to one another. It’s going to be difficult enough being stuck in the house with our loved ones with no healthy release, yeah?

We all needed it. And as the days went on, we’d realize how much more we’d all need it.

The truth is, I feel lost. I feel exactly like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. “Oh, Toto. We’re not in Kansas anymore.” I don’t recognize this life. This world. This way of interacting. Of not interacting. We are social beasts in a prison of isolation, more and more each day.  As an extroverted Enneagram 7, it’s actually painful to feel this “locked up.” I miss my humans.

Now I’m looking for that place over the rainbow, which feels like what was and just hope that we can have that again sooner than later. I hadn’t taken it for granted before, but I miss it as if it’s been gone a thousand years already. That’s how slowly time goes by when your schedule is wiped out.

So here we are learning how to socialize through technology. I hope this is short-lived.

xo, Malena