To My Pre-Pandemic Self…
By: Rachel Wilder
Tags: Essay, Self, Covid, Reflections, Pandemic

Dear Pre-Pandemic Me,

I laugh because there is no convincing way to describe what is about to unfold. I laugh because right now your students are starting to gossip about Amazon products from China being laced with a virus that seems distant and surreal. In a few weeks you will drive home and begin your spring break. Unbeknownst to you, you’ll stay at home for almost a year — and after that time, you will hardly recognize yourself or your life.

Right now you don’t realize it, but you are working yourself into exhaustion. You are flittering here and there — not like a graceful butterfly but more like those nasty Miller moths you hate so much — trying in vain to please every single person in your ever-growing circle of influence. This year you will be forced to rest. You will learn to nap, because there are only so many days you can spend stuck in an apartment without napping. You will learn to slow down long enough to eat. I know weight is a difficult, anxiety-producing topic for you, but you will gain a few pounds and be healthier for it.

You are going to have to make a heart-wrenching decision between self-worth and a creative opportunity you’ve always wanted. And you’ll choose the former, and you’ll have nightmares about it constantly.

You will become a teacher…officially. In the weirdest year ever to become a teacher. The water you tread will be unknown not only to you but to the entire educational community. And in that stormy water you will meet some dear companions, colleagues, comrades. You will learn that you are capable of more than you’ve ever given yourself credit for and you will get up every day and keep trying, even when the odds seem impossible.

You will feel lonely. You will feel discouraged. You will basically feel every bit of the spectrum of human emotion because you are going to be stuck at home with your feelings a lot more than you ever wanted to be. You will learn things that you never knew about yourself. You will be forced to grapple with your beliefs and values and priorities rather than avoid them. You will have to be honest with yourself, because you will be unable to run away. And in this place of unchosen solitude you might blossom, you might see yourself differently and you might begin to embrace the quirks and nuances that make you you.

This year will be marked by loss. You will lose a lot of people — many unexpectedly. You will cry and grieve, and still be stuck at home by yourself. In fact, the whole world will be marked by losses unfathomable. And in that way, you will not be alone, because it will seem as if everyone is collectively mourning those to whom they could not say goodbye, and regretting those things that could have been but now will never be. Many times it will appear that no end is in sight — that is a strange companion with whom you will learn to cohabitate in this paradoxical marriage of quiet and unrest.

You will draw a line in the sand between tradition and kindness, and you will cut ties with some individuals who pride themselves in “knowing” everything but do not know how to show tenderness.

I cannot explain how difficult this year will be. And I cannot explain how you will transform. You will start grad school. You will write, a buried dream that will come into the forefront of your life at the least expected moment. You will be an inspiration to your young students who are trying to navigate a reality that has been shattered over and over by the global events that will not cease. You will find your long-lost love for music, but more than that, you will unbury your voice, sharing it with strangers and old friends and with yourself. You will battle your long term anxiety and experience many strange moments in which you feel inexplicable peace, the ability to rest.

Dear Pre-Pandemic Self, you have a hell of a year ahead of you. But you will survive. In fact, you will grow.