One Year: Quarantine or Chrysalis?

One year ago, when COVID19 had just started to spear its head, and States started to go into lock down I posted this: "Quarantine or Chrysalis? It's really all in how I think about this period of isolation. It's uncomfortable, no doubt, but there's so much growth to be had here. Right now. In this space. In this breath. This time, and how I choose to use it can become the very wings I need to fly, or continue to be the prison that keeps holding me back. Inward. Upward. Onward."

When I wrote that I was feeling really good about the place I was in. I created a schedule for myself to help maximize my time home and to help maintain my anxiety and sobriety. I wanted to focus on my herbalism, photography, and my health. I'd finally have lots of time to spend in nature, hiking, and camping. I was excited to have this free time, thinking it would only last a month, at most. I was looking at this period through a lens of hopefulness, of easy growth, and comfortability. I truly thought it was going to be a period of time where things would start to blossom. What I didn't know was that this next year was going to be one of the hardest test of my will to date. I had no idea how drastically my life would change in the next twelve months. A hurricane was beginning, and the high velocity winds would begin to pick up speed after my chrysalis post. The beginning of the end started immediately.

When we think about growth we often envision this easy “hopping from one place to the other”. We don't think about how raw, and dirty it is. How we have to claw ourselves out from the pits, the rubble, the destruction. We don't think about how beaten up and alone it can make us feel. The different situations we encounter that force us to grow often come spinning into our worlds, leaving a path of destruction, and rocking our foundations.

Standing in the wake of the aftermath we are left with nothing but the pieces of a life we once knew. What we choose to do with those pieces will dictate the rest of our lives. Will we have the courage to rebuild? Or will we let the destruction destroy us indefinitely? The choice is entirely ours. This past year has been filled with the deepest darkness, and the most luminescent light.

A year ago I didn't know I'd spend quarantine alone. That suddenly I'd go from having someone here everyday to having no one. I didn’t know I’d have to face the reality of COVID by myself. All I wanted was to be with my family, be somewhere familiar- not knowing when I would be able to see them again was a hard thing to wrap my head around.

I didn't know I'd be out of work for months on end, wondering every single day how the fuck I was going to pay my bills. I didn't know I was going to be in a terrifying accident that would completely alter my life at the end of September. I didn't know I'd spend hours on my floor crying, and holding myself, as I tried to ease the very loud cravings to drown my pain out with alcohol.

I didn't know my uncle would pass away from brain cancer and I wouldn't be able to go home for his service, and be with my family due to possible exposure to Covid. I didn't know I'd have to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas alone. I didn't know how I'd get through the days when the dissociation was so bad that I'd cry in the bathroom at work, or have to call out because I felt like I was going crazy. A year ago I didn't know a hurricane was forming, waiting to completely destroy life as I knew it.

But there is light in all of that darkness.

A year ago I didn't know how strong I truly was. I didn't know I could survive this one my own, especially a pandemic. I didn't know I'd get to spend a full month with my little sister exploring New Hampshire and Vermont, helping her heal. I didn't know how many beautiful sunsets, sunrises, and rainbows I'd be able to catch. I didn't know how much I needed to dance in the rain. I didn't know I'd spend so much time swimming and chasing waterfalls. I didn't know how much time I'd spend on the AT, on Mother T or that I'd find my first Morel.

I didn't know I would quit smoking cigarettes. That I’d start eating healthy, and working out everyday again. I didn't know I could stay sober through all of this. I didn't know how much laughter I'd experience, and how many in depth conversations about life I'd have. I didn't know how much my co-workers truly cared about me, and that they’d start to feel like family.

didn’t know that one conversation over the summer would push me to finally reach out and see a therapist. I didn't know the third graders I work with would be a crucial part of my healing process. I didn't know how many shooting stars I'd wish on, and meteor showers I'd see.

I finished my herbalism course and started a plan for my future. I didn't know I'd quit all of my vices one morning. I didn't know how much I'd come to appreciate the darkness that has set me free. I didn't know I'd start to heal my inner child, indepthly, and honor her. I didn't know I'd learn to set boundaries and hold them firmly so that I could learn to love myself, and choose me , over anyone or anything. I didn't know I'd be shaken awake, ready to take my life back into my own hands.

I did everything in my power to stay sober during such life altering events. I let the hurricane come. I sat with it, and let the winds do what they needed to do. I let them destroy what they needed to, bending and breaking me. I let the waters rise and learned to hold on tightly because I knew eventually I'd come out on the other side...as long as I stayed sober.

This year was a test. It became the chrysalis, the caterpillar shedding who it was in order to become everything it was meant to be. It has broken me down and shattered everything I thought my life was so that I could finally have the life I deserve. This year needed to happen. I needed to see and feel the destruction so up close and personal. I needed to survive this, sober, and alone. I needed to prove to myself that I am worthy- that if I can survive this, I can survive anything.

Learn to sit with your pain. Learn to sit with the frozen, cold parts of your existence. Learn to thaw them out into a spring you can later drink from and not be poisoned by.

So here I am a year later, 1,260 days sober. I am a butterfly coming out of chrysalis. Where will I go with my newly grown wings? Where will my journey lead me to next? Who will I become from this? All I know right now is I am falling in love with this journey, with this struggle, with the light and darkness, the thunder and lightning inside of me, with this crazy, beautiful life.

Inward. Upward. Onward.