it’s been 463 days
I had what feels like my first anxiety attack yesterday evening. My body temperature was escalating, I was shaking, nauseous and literally could not form a complete sentence.
I got home, took a hot shower, made some tea, took a Xanax (for the first time ever), ate a balanced meal, watched two silly movies with my best friend, went to bed at a reasonable hour, getting a decent amount of hours and woke up this morning still not feeling better.
I’m here to remind you that it is okay to feel overwhelmed and anxious about this so called return to normalcy. Guidelines are being lifted, establishments are working off of the honor system in regards to vaccinations and mask wearing, and while I thought I would be ecstatic to go back to work, to a bar, or to a gathering, I am finding myself uneasy and terrified. I’m not afraid of Covid-19, as I am fully vaccinated, wear a mask everywhere I go, even when people look at me like I have five heads, and take care of my health and those around me. I’m afraid of stepping back into the world as this new Kayla Tomas. The Kayla Tomas from pre-March 15, 2020, had enormous ambitions, fire and grit. This Kayla Tomas has no fucking idea what it going on anymore. She didn’t come out from the smoke with hidden talents, an engagement or washboard abs: she came out confused, frustrated and incredibly alone. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’m just feeling out of myself.
For a lot of people, not much has changed: working from home, spending more time with family, celebrating milestones, the list goes on. For many of us, it meant going from slaving away at three jobs just to make rent, while chasing a dream in an industry that completely shut down, fighting with the unemployment office, wondering if we will ever have health insurance or a social life again and at war with the fact that your trajectory has changed.
I’m excited and hopeful to be returning to the classroom tomorrow and working a full-time schedule, but it has been 463 days. I’m worried about first impressions. I’m excited to see bright, young artists, but only 50% of their faces. I’m scared I will say the wrong thing, broach a subject in a way that doesn’t make sense, or bore somebody.
It’s scary feeling like you’ve lost yourself, but who knows? Maybe in this return I’ll paint a new version. A better version. One that serves me now that wouldn’t have served me in March 2020.
