Dear 2020 | A Letter of Reflection

“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.” - Maya Angelou

Dear 2020,

It’s the time of year when I prepare to close your chapter in my life’s book. I’m supposed to reflect on all that you’ve taught me, but to be honest, I didn’t want to be reminded. I didn’t want to write this letter, because I didn’t feel that there was much that I wanted to remember. Then I realized that this little book of mine wouldn’t be complete if it was missing a chapter, but also, I wanted to pay tribute to the hundreds of thousands of people who won’t be able to look back and remember their year. And so we begin.

You were the year of words like “pandemic” and “isolation” and “quarantine,” when the entire world learned what it’s like to live in a chronically immune-compromised body, fearing that contact with any random person could make you sick and possibly kill you. You were the year of wiping down groceries and postal packages and scrubbing our hands until they were raw. The year when people were told not to leave their homes without a mask, and the year when toilet paper and disinfecting wipes were hoarded like precious gold. You were the year we all learned more than we cared to about how virus cells work and witnessed how quickly a vaccine could be developed by the brilliant minds who understand the intricacies of microbiology.

You were the year of great loss. When you started, we were told that it was nothing more than the flu, and by your end, there were over 350,000 dead bodies in this country alone. You were the year we couldn’t hug our loved ones and couldn’t comfort the ones who were dying. The year of far too many goodbyes, the year of misplaced smiles.

You were the year of a multitude of uprisings, both on the homefront and on the grounds of government complexes. The year we all remembered the names Breonna, and George, and Ahmaud, and Elijah, and so many more. You were the year of the acronyms BLM, and MAGA, and of the letter Q, when the First and Second Amendments were dinner table topics and calls for the Twenty-Fifth headlined the evening news.

On a more personal note, you were the year that re-lit my fire for activism, when I became more decisive about what I believe to be righteous, and the year of finding confidence in how I justify those beliefs. Because of this, you were also the year of some severed relationships with people whose willful ignorance I can tolerate no longer. I learned that some people aren’t interested in facts if they contradict what they wish to be true and that conversations with these acquaintances will always loop back around to controversial topics because they simply enjoy the argument.

You were the year of being myself and offering no excuses or apologies for who I am. I will never measure up to what someone else expects or desires of me, and that’s too bad for them. What’s important is how I feel about myself, and I’m doing okay on that front. You were the year that I finally started to feel settled in this body and accept my imperfections along with the quirks that make me endearing. The year when my mental health didn’t completely go off the rails, despite the uncontrollable circumstances that this nation was facing. You were the year that I had a sense of peace settle over me like a weighted blanket, helping me find solace and much-needed rest.

You were the year of revisiting this quote from Beau Taplin: "I'm beginning to recognize that real happiness isn't something large and looming on the horizon ahead, but something small, numerous and already here. The smile of someone you love. A decent breakfast. The warm sunset. Your little everyday joys all lined up in a row,” and remembering that happiness is here. Happiness is right here. It’s been here all along.

You were the year I fell in love with Hamilton, albeit a little late to the party, and I swear, those lyrics were what got me through some very stressful summer days. The memes too. “Work! Work!”

You were the year of sharpening my focus on the professional front. I’ve let imposter syndrome hold me back from success for too long. I didn’t believe I was worthy of it, so I did enough to stay just shy of the finish line. I didn’t push myself and made excuses that would allow me to remain inside my comfort zone, but I know now that I will never find fulfillment unless I meet those goals that I set years ago. You were also the year of knowing that personal writing is just as important as the writing that I send out into the world, and that the time I spend in a private journal is as valuable as any commissioned piece that I could ever write. Not every story needs to be shared. Some are for me, alone.

2020, you were a hard year, more difficult than anyone could have anticipated, but you did have some bright spots.

Thank you for the learning experience!

Sincerely,

Lecy