My childhood bedroom has become my main office this past month! Although it isn’t great for my back, I usually do most of my UCWbL work and schoolwork on my bed. Sitting all day for the past three weeks has really messed up my hips, so I’ve been doing short yoga sequences in the morning to help. When I really need to focus on a Written Feedback or when I want to appear more professional for an online real time, I’ll move to my desk. Sometimes Benny, my sweet little boy, will wander in and sit on my bed. He’s a great coworker, despite the fact that he barks a lot.
Transitioning to remote work has been interesting. I find myself forgetting my schedule and forgetting to log my hours, mainly because work doesn’t feel as “real” to me now, I suppose? It doesn’t feel as real because I’m not leaving my environment for work and I’m not interacting face-to-face with writers anymore, which I loved. I miss my coworkers, hearing their voices, and the great conversations we would have between appointments. Although we now have online alternatives to these experiences, like online realtime and the slack channels, it doesn’t feel the same as my past two quarters as a Writing Tutor/Fellow. I’ve been coping with this by keeping in touch with my lovely UCWbL friends and keeping up with Slack, which has been helping me develop a better working mindset while I am at home.
I’ve been home for nearly a month now. I’ve moved back to Avon Lake, OH, a small suburb of Cleveland. I’m living with my parents again, I don’t have a car, and I feel as though all of the meaningful relationships I was building in Chicago have been put on pause. I didn’t stay in touch with too many people from my hometown, and the friends I do have here have been hesitant to leave their homes and hang out with me at an appropriate distance. My partner and I have been trying to keep as connected as possible by writing letters and FaceTiming often, but I really wish I could spend time with them in person.
I feel overall frustrated with my situation, and it has been slowly developing into anger. I lived in Sanctuary Townhomes in Lincoln Park, a choice that my parents made for me. Because of this, I had no permanent place to go after the dorms shut down. I had the opportunity to sublease from a friend, but my parents were paranoid about the virus and were not supportive of me moving into an apartment. I would have stayed in Chicago and worked, but the restaurant I had just been hired at cut back on staff due to the pandemic. My only option was to return home. To add to the frustration, my parents have been saying vague things about me staying for the entire summer, and laughing at me when I try to advocate for myself moving back to Chicago.
I’m trying hard to release my emotions about homesickness, frustration, and loneliness in my art and writing, but I also have found myself slipping into the negative thought patterns I had in high school, particularly negative body image and general anxiety.
I’m routinely reminding myself that the virus is not necessarily putting my life on hold, which I am very fortunate for. It is redirecting my life for the time being, offering me an opportunity to get to know myself better and practice self-reflection, patience, and healthy communication. I’ve become closer to my parents. I finally have the time to read for pleasure, paint, and bake. My Animal Crossing island, Ivy Creek, is really coming together, too!
And yet, this is still a hard time for me. It’s hard knowing that I am hundreds of miles away from my closest friends, even harder not knowing when I will see them again. But in due time, we’ll meet again.