Last Year’s Lessons for the Rest of My Life

2020.

That’s the tweet.

That’s all you have to say and people automatically know what you mean. 2020 is synonymous with trash, sadness, and depression. Death, racism, political division, job loss, and a host of other events made 2020 the most memorable year in my lifetime. 2020 was so horrible that it even enlisted some of 2021 to try to keep the trauma going.

All this to say plainly: Last year sucked.

But amid the “suckiness”, we learned a lot of important corporate lessons. We learned the meaning of being a community. We learned how to be neighborly. We learned how to persevere. We learned the true value of physical touch, of good and healthy physical presence. We learned how to live without and how to make do. We learned to value our health over productivity, how to value family and friends, and how to prioritize and leave behind.

2020 was the teacher we didn’t want with lessons we didn’t realize we needed.

And while we all learned lessons together, we all had our individual lessons we had to learn on our own. Here are a few of my lessons that I learned; lessons that will last for the rest of my life.

Change is good and it hurts

So much changed last year for me. I started the year without a job and ended it with one. I gained new friends and lost some. I left a church and found a new one. But what I learned overall is that change happens, change is good, but change hurts.

Normality is comfortable. The “same old, same old” might be boring but it’s also a place of comfort for us.

For me.

I like knowing what’s going to happen. I like to think I’m in control. I need to feel like I’ve done the work necessary to figure out exactly what’s going to happen.

And then a pandemic hits. You can’t see your friends. You can’t find a job. You barely can even leave your house. Over time, 2020 chipped away at my false sense of security in my ability to control the things — and people — in my life. And although it was a hard lesson to be taught, it was a good lesson to learn.

I wrongly believed that my anxiety was best treated by trying to control the things that caused it when what actually worked best was giving up control. I was reminded that I needed to be letting God do what He does: work everything out for the good of His kids. I learned that accepting change actually helps you deal with change better.

Redirection is a good thing

2020 made us all slow down. No more busy weekends, full calendars, messy nights and painful mornings. In the first few weeks of April, everything came to a complete halt. We had more free time than ever before. And with free time comes boredom and with boredom comes self-reflection. And with self-reflection comes hard truths.

My hard truth I realized was I did not like the direction I was headed in. I had no real vision for my future. And the future I was heading towards wasn’t something I liked. That’s when I realized it was time for a redirection. Having things taken away from you not only shows you what you can live without but also the things that were harmful for you. I realized I was drinking too much and my body felt it. I was eating out way too often without regard for my diet or my wallet. I was using sex in my life in an attempt to feel liked, loved, or wanted.

I didn’t like who I was.

Through some breakdowns with friends and some breakthroughs in therapy, I realized it is ok to redirect. It’s expected, even. Imperfect humans always end up going the wrong way at some point. It’s why we need U-Turns and grace periods. If I don’t like the direction I am headed in, I can always turn around. And with God, good friends and helpful resources I not only am capable of redirecting, but I’m not alone while I do it.

Do it. And do it now (or when you can)

So many privileges were now non-existent with a pandemic in full effect. Birthday parties, baby showers, vacations, even outings in town. All cancelled. And there was death; a lot of death. Lots of illness and sickness and recovery and long-term effects. Plans got cancelled and lives got put on hold.

So when things calm down — cause going “back to normal” isn’t a thing — don’t put it off anymore. Go do it. 2020 taught me that we have all been blindly living on assumed time and options, neither of which is promised.

So do it. Take that trip. Take those PTO days. Try out that hobby. Audition for that role. Invest in that opportunity. Start that vlog, that podcast, that YouTube channel. Say yes. Say no.

Go back to church. Revisit your faith again. Enroll in school. Don’t cancel on plans as often. Start saving for that expensive gift now. Facetime your mom today. Text your brother now. Reach out to that friend today. Say “I’m sorry” or “I forgive you”. When you have the chance and capability, do it.

We are all on a clock. A pandemic includes a reckoning with our mortality. We may not want to face our mortality but it sure has no problem facing us. There’s a song by a gospel group I listened to growing up called “Tomorrow”. It’s about a young man always putting off getting his life with God together till tomorrow but the song reminds him that tomorrow very well might be today. And that statement rings true for us too.

Somethings will be left unsaid or undone even when we die. We can’t control that; but if you’re reading this then you have today.

So when you can, and as soon you can, do it.

Always a student

My dad always said experience is life’s greatest teacher. What we all experienced last year changed us. All of us. Whether we feel the changes or not, we are not the same people entering 2021 as we did entering 2020.

And that’s a good thing.

For we are going to have many more life-changing experiences here on Earth. They may not all be as global, but they for sure will happen. And even when those changes are good — because not all change is good change — they still might hurt. And that’s ok. My faith teaches me that maturity comes with suffering; but the fruit of maturity is worth the pain.

And even that is a lesson I am painfully still learning.