Hi friends! This holiday season, I feel even more reflective and philosophical than usual. Stress and fear tend to narrow my vision and zoom in on things that are scary and stressful, but after they pass (and they always do), it feels like an after-crash snap back to the big picture. What I value seems even more valuable, people I love feel irreplaceable.
I don’t need to tell you that last year has been tough. Probably tougher for you than for me. I haven’t lost a family member, or a job, or my home. But I have lost track of time…and not in a good way. My most-listened podcasts last year have been news. Perhaps an attempt at reducing the level of uncertainty and anxiety about the immediate future? We humans really don’t like uncertainty. This desire to reduce uncertainty drives us to accept things on faith and lock them in, impenetrable to any further inspection, because it feels better than not knowing. And some of us turn to the constant stream of bad news instead. Access to information, even bad one, is comforting.
2020 feels like several years stuffed into one. There was definitely no shortage of events, so my annual task of looking back at the highlights is easy.
Alright then, January 2020. Kids in school. I get a glimpse into their worlds through an after school activity where they are asked to draw a map from their house to the school. It is curious to see that “7-11” appears on Ella’s map, Elijah marks important places with a star, and Katia shows a free floating 4-story apartment building on her map. I can bet that these drawings required quite a bit of mental effort to simplify the representation of an already complicated life: “which house do we pick, mom’s or dad’s?” and “what are the important places that are constant in our lives?”
Also in January, I go back to my old job, after an 8-month stint in public sector architecture. It feels good to be back. I pick my favorite project back up, a historic rehabilitation of 3 Victorians into apartments. So fun! I bring with me the habit or working from home on Fridays, which at that time in January and February of last year, feels positively revolutionary. Two months later, at least half of the company is working from home full time.
At the end of the month, Erik and I visit Portland, OR for the first time. That trip, not unlike all of my trips, could use a separate blog post, but I’m going to keep my ambitions in check and share a few sketches instead.
A “hop” public transit pass, an explainer insert for the map of Portland earrings I first talked myself out of buying and then went back and bought anyway (they are currently my favorite pair of earrings), and the Stag.
40 lbs Coffee Bar, right around the corner from Hotel Rose where we stayed (which, despite the hideous exterior, turned out to be quite nice). Our trip included the absolutely mandatory list of architectural objects to visit (which we did); the glorious several hours spent at Powell’s Books; a bike ride where I almost died riding up hill and then again when I crashed the bike while trying to ride it and take a picture on the Burnside bridge; an accidental Comic Con; a few coffee shops, and eating food truck faire outside of Voodoo Donuts, where we didn’t actually go because I am quite indifferent towards donuts and my beau didn’t care enough about them to endure the long line. But I did have a good view of the sign :)
February is pretty quiet, other than the constant hum of worry about my Dad and his cancer…and the slow but steady buildup of anxiety thanks to news from Europe. The Covid ride is starting. Katia and I have some of our last Friday morning coffee hangouts. Those have become a routine thanks to my flexibility at work and the staggered start times at school. We would drop the other two kids off and then go get a coffee for me and steamed flavored milk for her (usually with a donut or cake pop, too!).
That particular Friday was a Pajama Day at school.
March…yeah. March is hard. It is impossible to focus on anything but the relentless stream of news and anxiety. Dad has his cancer surgery right as the hospitals are ramping up capacity for the upcoming surge in Covid cases and at the same time, shutting down access to any non-essential procedures and visitors. It’s scary. Mom and I pick Dad up from the hospital and, while waiting in the car for him to be discharged, we have a long conversation with the most substance we’ve ever had. She is scared and lost and reflective. I listen to her fears, beliefs and advice and keep most of my fact checks and conclusions to myself. But I also talk about important serious stuff. Like Erik, our past, my kids, our future. It’s uncomfortable but also cathartic. We should do more of that.
In the outside world, insane hoarding of toilet paper and sanitizer starts. On March 17, San Francisco goes into lockdown. Two days later, and seemingly, two months later, Sacramento county follows and we are ordered to stay at home. No one knows what they are supposed to and not supposed to do. Worry is palpable.
Ella, worried
In the beginning of April, Erik and I celebrate 1 year together. This story is also worth a separate blog post…but the bottom line is that we are happy. On the high tide of 2019, in the bottomless pit of 2020, we make each other happy.
Beach shoes, his and hers
After several weeks of “spring break,” distance learning commences. Kids and I are enjoying each other’s company while at the same time trying to figure out how to combine all of this work-from-home-do-school-but-also-actually-work nonsense. It is particularly hard to do when the world around us is feeling more and more surreal. On the nights the kids are with their dad, Erik and I hold on to each other for dear life. Sometimes, we argue, because both of us are stressed out and on edge. Then it passes, and we’re back to finding solace in one another. I keep reading that 2020 has been really rough on relationships…couples broke up, divorces skyrocketed. For us, it brought us closer together. Like I said at the beginning of this post, the significance of the important people in my life has come to a sharp focus. I want to hold on to that.
Elijah catches the right moment and talks me into allowing him a pet. We get him a leopard gecko.
Echo the gecko on middle school zoom call
Katia’s birthday is very quiet and limited to immediate family. She is the most social of us, so it’s hard for her. I promise her to make up for it at half-birthday (because I have no idea how long this will last) or at the very least, her next birthday. We will go all out.
I sign up for the free Fender Play self-paced guitar course and buy an acoustic guitar. On some days, there is a certain “we’re in this together” feeling in the air. People are trying to look for the silver lining, helping each other out. My friends are sewing masks and giving them away for free, hosting online drawing challenges, live streaming music, raising funds for struggling businesses. There is hope, despite the obvious lack of leadership and common sense from the federal government. Conspiracy theories keep popping up like there’s no tomorrow. We are watching both the good and the bad sides of American individualism play out at the same time.
May is strange. U.S. passes 100,000 in Covid-19 deaths. NASA and SpaceX launch first ever commercial spacecraft and successfully deliver two people to the International Space Station. I watch the livestream of them getting on board. The same night, I watch livestream of Black Lives Matter protests in Sacramento. This is just one of many locations throughout the U.S. they have been happening since May 25, the day George Floyd is killed by a Minneapolis police officer.
My stress levels keep going up and up. I feel the burnout right around the corner, regardless of how full my batteries were at the beginning of this whole thing. I am a single mom, working from home, full time, while taking care of 3 kids, all in distance learning. Katia is really struggling with school and it takes her all day to finish school work. The drawing below is my portrait by Ella that really captures the … times:
In June, we don’t go to the concert we’ve been looking forward to for months. This is the second cancelled concert for us so far, though the organizers act optimistic and “postpone” the events, rather than cancel them. Erik can’t play live music either and his band is about to be broken up. School is over for summer and I sigh a sigh of relief. Toilet paper re-appears at the stores. We have our last family gathering for my Dad’s birthday. It doesn’t feel safe after that.
July is spent doing home improvements, which…can actually be said for the rest of the year, too…Either something breaks or I get the urge to do a home project as a break from brain-work I do all the time. I also finally complete a wedding portrait for one of my long-time collectors. She now owns wedding portraits of all three of her children.
In August, Erik and I take a short trip to Ferndale (or some of you may know it better as the filming location of “Salem’s Lot”). It’s a cute Victorian town and if I had the time, I’d spend it sketching the many architectural details. But it’s only a weekend getaway, so we make the best of it: Erik visiting all the significant (to a film nerd) spots, me taking pictures of him at those spots and watching him transform into a giddy kid. We stop at the gigantic redwoods and I get my fix of dipping toes into the freezing cold Pacific Ocean.
Kids “go back to school,” which means more distance learning. No one likes it. Elijah turns 11 and starts middle school. He’s a very smart cookie and goes to an IB school now. California is on fire, we are breaking records. The sky is “Apocalypse Orange”, ash is falling from it like summer snow and the president is telling us that we need to manage our forests better. And also that global warming is fake news. The air quality index is at “hazardous,” so good thing we already wear masks…well, at least some of us. For an unknown reason, wearing a mask becomes a political issue.
I pick up sunflowers, one of my favorites, and paint them.
It is harder than ever to be creative. I hear this from other artists and musicians. The anxiety, the uncertainty, the constant shifting sands of our reality wear us out. We go through periods of caring about others intensely and not caring at all.
At the end of August, I take part in a big Julia Kay’s Portrait Zoom Party. I almost flake on it, the introvert in me trying to avoid interaction with strangers. But I give myself a push and log on. It ends up being an hour and a half of so much fun!
Rajesh for JKPP
September. My birthday, and the kick-off of the U.S. Presidential election circus. It’s exhausting to watch. The division and animosity is unreal. Ruth Bader Ginsburg dies and it feels like the rug getting pulled from under our feet. More conspiracy theories follow, this time specifically directed at undermining trust in the outcome of upcoming elections. Created and fanned by the most influential man in the world, they seem dangerously effective. White men with guns feel that they have more say in what happens than anyone else. It’s not hard to imagine this country sliding into a dictatorship.
I vote. By mail.
October. The wildfires are still going. My parents’ backyard orchard, which reminds me of our “dacha” back in Ukraine, produces ginormous pomegranates and I paint them, while talking on the phone with an architect mentor, who has been my sounding board and cheerleader over the last several months of 2020. In return, I help her come back to art-making.
In November, the U.S. election stretches out into nail-biting weeks. Burned in 2016, I do not keep my fingers crossed for anything, but I am pleasantly surprised when Biden wins. Ella turns 7. We have a very small Thanksgiving that still rocks. I settle into my cold weather knitting habit.
In December, we are back in lockdown. This is probably known as the “holiday effect,” or should be. Even though I am very much aware of how things are going, it’s disturbing to receive this emergency alert on my phone:
At the same time, I am relieved that this puts brakes on the school’s plans to re-open in January. I do not feel that anyone is ready for it and the phased, staggered reopening plans I’ve seen do not make sense for anyone with more than one child or a job. We are only now getting into some kind of a rhythm with the distance learning, so shuffling the cards again feels like a huge source of stress. That’s on top of just not feeling safe due to Covid.
I finally commit all the way and convert my dining room into an office. I’ll be here for a while.
We celebrate Christmas. It feels lovely, even though I miss hosting the rest of my family at my home.
Right after Christmas, I get the long-awaited green light from the California Architects Board to schedule my last Architect’s exam. It’s in 2 weeks.
And so, we make it into 2021. Maybe it’s our collective wishful thinking, but it already feels better. Calmer, brighter, more hopeful. The winter will be over. Having lived through a difficult year, we will come out stronger and kinder. Zombie apocalypse is cancelled. We are still here, with a deeper understanding of what matters to us. And I suspect that what matters, if we dig deep enough, is the same for all of us: people we love, health, safety, happiness. Let’s remember that ❤️. Happy New Year!
