Life On The High Wire: My Year Of Living With Covid
In many ways it has felt as if this past year flew by without actually happening. In other ways it
was never-ending, while demanding constant change. Life was in limbo, not quite a dream and
not quite reality, looking back while trying to face forward. I survived COVID, an odd sensation.
As a wife, a mother, a business owner, and a member of society who stayed in, canceled
events, and socially distanced, I was left asking “What will our lives look like now?”, “Did I do the right things?”, “Was there anything more I could have done?”. There are no easy answers and I still got COVID. As our kids took on e-learning and virtual classes I struggled to facilitate, I was frustrated. I’m not a teacher; I’m a designer! “Did I do enough for my kids?” Overall, this past year has stretched us and tried us in ways we never thought imaginable, and now we are at a
crossroads, looking ahead but not sure where to step. So the last question occupying my
thoughts is, “Where do we go from here?” I made it my goal in 2019 to push my boundaries in every aspect of my life. If it was something I dreaded, I did it. If it was something hard, I did it two, three, four times. I challenged myself to face fears and conquer obstacles. Coming into 2020, I was determined to make it everything I had dreamed it would be. I had goals galore. It was going to be the most amazing year until the world shut down and slammed a door in my face, literally. It was like a hit in the gut knocking the wind out of me. My weeks were a blur. All I remember from that time was having a never-ending headache and utter exhaustion. Like many, I was desperately trying to navigate the situation with my clients, my kids, and myself. It was all too much and to say “unexpected” would be an understatement. Each day just kept getting worse. There were more cancelations, more closures, more heartbreaking horrible news about what was happening all over the world. I was an emotional mess. Recovering from a serious respiratory infection a few weeks before, my nights were filled with anxiety, depression, sadness, weird vivid dreams, and pain continuing into the day. I felt it in my bones. Simple tasks hurt my heart and my chest. It would take eight long months before I was diagnosed with Post-COVID Syndrome or Long COVID. I was struggling to navigate through this place and needed to clear a path through the negativity; I needed to throw it away. I just need to throw something, and not just anything; I finally thought. I want to throw paint!” In fact, I want to throw paint at something Ive made and not just any paint, and not just anything Ive made. I want to throw black paint, black paint on a beautiful white dress! Knowing so many other friends, clients, and business owners were going through the same emotional turmoil, just added to the pain. Mourning for lost dreams. I came up with a plan, but I wanted it to have meaning, and I wanted it to have a purpose. I would make a gown from scratch, a new design, and document the process. Then, I would destroy it. So, I did it. I placed the finished dress on a mannequin and walked up to it throwing that black paint. Every toss of black paint felt like that punch in the gut all over again. Then, I poured gold paint, representing our hearts, our spirits trying to be strong. I continued with different colors of blue over the mannequin’s head. I allowed myself to feel all the emotions COVID has caused. I cried while I tossed, poured, and sprayed my creation with paint. It felt incredible, a huge release. The dress came out inspiring and I found I loved it. Instead of hating it, I absolutely loved it. I created true art and beauty from the depths of my wounded soul.
Of course we all know things did not go back to normal after the shutdown. It continued with a
new reality that included masks and social distancing. Most of my clients moved their weddings
to 2021 or 2022. A few decided to elope. We started picking up the pieces, trying to find work to
do what we could to pay the bills. We saw a glimmer of light, but another storm started brewing.
A storm that was already here, simmering for quite some time, boiled over with a vengeance. A
storm of decades of injury, injustice, and suppression. Living in a rural community, it's easy to think some of these problems do not exist. We are in our own world, our own bubble of our point of view. It's human nature to think that if we don't see it, it must not exist, but it does exist. It exists in more than one place, and finally, it had enough! To heal and move forward as a nation as a society, to come into who we are meant to be as humanity, we have to learn these hard lessons. For better or for worse, we are all in this life together. Each of us needs, no – we must listen, truly listen to other perspectives, other points of view. We must. That is the recurring lesson of 2020! From COVID, to BLM, to the election, we have highlighted this message in every aspect of the past year. We affect each other so much. Our words, our actions matter. To grow we have to learn, to learn we have to listen and reflect, in order to look deeply into what has been and change what will be.
This lesson led to my second painted dress project, a set of gowns to represent different
cultures and people of 2020. Using old and dismissed gowns, I reconstructed them into
something classic and new. We found models willing to be covered in paint. Overall I had a
plan, but I left many details to chance. There was no method or reason for the way I threw paint
on these dresses. Even down to using different thicknesses and types of paint. In true COVID
fashion, nothing made sense; it was just one big mess. However, I chose black paint first like my
initial dress, to symbolize the gut-wrenching dark reality of COVID shutdowns, lost business,
lost work, and lost lives. The true reality of what COVID is, black. Again, I chose gold paint to
symbolize the heart, trying to be strong for each other, the good part of us, and trying to help in
our own ways. I proceeded to add copper and then silver to two other models. These
symbolized additional strengths of the heart. The black hands, handprints, and black paint put
on each other is the dark mark, our bleak actions towards one another. In many cases, this
black mark may not have been intentional, but it is the reality of our actions. Lastly, I let the
models have fun painting each other. Just having fun with it. Different colors bring joy and
happiness in unexpected places, turning something void and lifeless into something beautiful
and unifying. Truly starting anew.
The effects of the last year are still with us. Perhaps the best takeaway is that we can choose to
make the best of this experience, to learn these hard lessons, and move forward to a brighter
and better future. It’s our decision.
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