LOVE LETTERS II

Lessons Learned in Quarantimes

My Mama once told me, “Sometimes, you’re standing in the waves. They’re crashing all around you, trying to drag you down, but you can’t let them make you fall.”

For many of us, this March marks the one year anniversary of the COVID-19 pandemic hitting home and forever changing life as we knew it. Shutdowns, quarantine, and social distancing became a new way of life, and a mask is now a must have accessory. Now, with cautious hope on the horizon, I, like so many others look back and reflect on the past year. For me, it was a year of great loss, but also a year where I experienced great love, happiness, personal growth and resilience.

The experiences and “lessons learned,” in this article reflect a partial view of my own personal experience of the past year, during quarantine (or as I sometimes refer to it, “quarantimes”). This article is not meant to imply universal truths, science, beliefs, or pass judgement upon anyone else’s quarantine practices. Whether your experience was similar to, or very different than mine, I hope you’ve found ways to survive the past year and adapt as calmly and as gracefully as possible. Something I always say,

echoing my Mom’s wisdom, “let it wash over you like waves on the ocean”.

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I spent the last weekend of “regular life” in Asheville, NC. One of my favorite crunchy mountain towns with plenty of mountain hiking, craft breweries, hippie vibes, and bluegrass music. I felt like I was living my best life, even on antibiotics for a case of strep throat, I remember feeling giddy and free, capable of making any dream a reality, even as the world began to close its doors in order to fight the global pandemic.

Returning to the world outside of Asheville would be different, uncertain, but for that weekend life went on in a town smaller than Pittsburgh, and was lived to the fullest with late nights and dancing as local and traveling musicians bid an indefinite adieu to live performances. If it truly was the last weekend in the world, I might just choose to spend it there.

I remember the bubble beginning to waiver as I dragged my feet on the final walk through town, after a perfect Sunday morning. On the trip home, the weekend’s spell of enchantment continued to fade and reality set in. I am not one to jump into panic and had kept a pretty level head and unworried outlook as COVID crept up on the periphery. Now it had taken hold. I remember starting to cry on the drive home over the uncertainty of it all. My life was a social one, spending weekends and date nights checking out new restaurants, cocktail bars and local breweries. Regular gatherings with friends and weekly family dinner nights. I’d found someone I considered to be my person. I had a cool job working on events that I’d only started months before. My Dad had cancer. What would become of it all?

If I knew the things that waited, for the moment still small, on the distant horizon, I probably would have run, cried inconsolably, and maybe never returned home. What would you have done if you knew what COVID would become? It’s a question I’ve asked myself and others from time to time. Not that you can change the decisions you made, or go back to fix anything with new knowledge. But, maybe instead the answer could determine your next move or change the future. Cross country road trip, perhaps?

For a while, everything was okay. I was laid off from my job as an events manager, but stayed positive, throwing myself into tackling long standing to do list items, cleaning, creative projects, weekend escapes, home cooked meals, hiking, and keeping busy. Embracing the simple life with a positive mental attitude made me focus on the ways that the world could survive and perhaps become better in light of the pandemic. A rebirth, an awakening. Maybe people would have a better understanding of what is truly important to them. Maybe there would be less focus on material things? More respect for the environment since parks, green spaces and wilderness were now more alluring than ever -- the natural social distance. A greater understanding and kindness toward others, more patience, more focus on local businesses and resources. A better work life balance. Even in the darkness, there is so much potential for good.

Some of the lessons learned over the past year were learned early on and still hold true. Others were learned in much darker days as I experienced first one loss and then another.

LESSON 1: NEW JOB TITLE: PROFESSIONAL HIKER

There was a joke pretty early on in the shutdown about packing up and hiking the Appalachian Trail. A joke that now I might wish I’d taken a little more seriously. I understood, even before it was widely broadcast that “this COVID thing” would take more than a few weeks or months to disappear and for a sense of “normal” living to resume. Like so many others, the time I spent outdoors increased tenfold, and the easiest physical and mental escape from a strange new world was time spent on a trail in the woods. Spending time outside became a necessary daily component for psychological well being, and it didn’t hurt that spring and summer weather was on the way.

While I absolutely sometimes feel the burn out of hiking the local trails around Pittsburgh, I’ve realized just how much there is to explore. I’ve always appreciated the Pittsburgh city and county parks, but never really dove in to hike and discover them all. I am not a homebody, so “stay home” for me extends well beyond four walls. While I miss being able to regularly dress up for cocktails or a fun event, throwing on hiking clothes and boots and spending a few miles with a friend has led to great conversations, better friendships, and the commitment to make 2021 the year that I finally get into backpacking!

LESSON 2: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, AND YOU DON’T NEED TO WEAR MAKEUP EVERY DAY!

A lesson in practicality, frugality, acceptance from others, but above all a lesson in self love. I no longer feel like I have to face the world with a face full of makeup. Let’s be honest, the masks have helped with this a lot, as someone with imperfect skin. But it used to be that my makeup-less mug was reserved for early mornings and late nights and only for people who knew me well. My makeup routine has always been pretty simple, perhaps four parts: foundation, blush, eyeshadow, and mascara. It’s refreshing not to have to vie for the first spot in the bathroom in the morning (in a currently rare group situation), appearing ready for the day as everyone else rolls out of bed. This now reminds me of the absurdity of the makeup routine in episode one of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. It feels refreshing to bare my face, perhaps tired and blotchy to casual acquaintances! For those of us who have had the chance to hang without makeup -- you’re welcome. ;)

LESSON 3: FRIENDS CAN SAVE THE WORLD

Somehow, I’m coming out of a socially distanced pandemic with many more friends than I went in with. If ever something good could come out of terrible things...I’ve connected with so many people over the past months, and become much more open to forming connections and networking with others. Many old friends from the past have reached out to reconnect or share support -- some of whom I didn’t know if I would ever hear from again.

At times in the past, I’ve felt like I had more friends spread across the country than I do here in Pittsburgh. I felt (and still do) that I don’t have many friends whose interests align with my own for epic hikes, backpacking, odd challenges, and outdoor adventures. I feel more ready now to seek out those people, but also more accepting that friendship doesn’t always mean having similar interests to someone, or even keeping in touch all the time.

In my travels cross country, I realized just how many connections I have across distance and how even during a time of fear and closed doors, people were open to spending time together, opening doors and providing a much needed sense of normalcy. I learned how easy it is to talk and enjoy time with strangers, and how quickly you can become friends.

I have a good friend who occasionally shows his support by telling me, “I’ve got your back”. Those words are always impactful, but on certain days hearing them literally means the world to me.

Listen to Ellie Goulding’s “Army” for the ultimate friend love anthem.

LESSON 4: YOU CAN’T DRINK CRAFT BEER ALL THE TIME

Wait...what did I just say? The horror! It feels blasphemous to even type that! But...yep, here I am, a pre-COVID beer snob who used to take selfies grimacing as I drank the rare Yuengling (Dad’s favorite beer -- so I’d send him the pictures as a joke). During the course of the pandemic, with more beers being consumed at home -- or at least not out at bars/breweries, I’ve learned to respect the lighter, more basic side. Water beer? Yuengling, Lion’s Head, PBR and even Corona (if I’m feeling snarky and devilish), there is now a place in my fridge (and in my heart) for you. Especially you, Yuengling.

But, if it’s a craft beer. Let it be local (usually). I’ve had a great respect for local breweries through the pandemic as they shifted focus to expand carry out options to help keep customers and staff safe. Also, making local brews more widely available to tote across the country, should you wish. The local beer game has evolved for the better, even though I do miss spending time in certain taprooms.

I feel compelled to give a special shoutout to my friends at Couch Brewery who have been like a family to me during the harsh COVID winter. Reviving the mythical SahrBear, getting me out of the house and giving me people to laugh with. Providing support, a much needed confidence boost and reason to dress up and play Vanna White on Bingo Nights. They made sure I had plans for Valentine’s Day (and I heart them).

LESSON 5: HUGS ARE HEROIC

I remember a time in high school when a friend or two and I would have hug competitions, seeing who could collect the most hugs while passing through the school’s halls on a given day.

Who would have thought that giving someone a hug could ever be considered a heroic act? The pandemic has taught me the true value of a hug -- when the distance between receiving one is sometimes measured in months, and sometimes the thing that you need the most.

I remember standing, masked, in my Dad’s yard on one terrible summer night, crying and saying, “I wish I could hug you,” but I couldn’t risk his safety. Later, I traveled across the country and was welcomed with hugs, supported by the power of embrace, and received hugs from family members and friends in hours of grief. I never once took for granted the acceptance of “risk” that a hug now unfortunately represents. In my mind, I often compare hugs to the act of someone running through flames to heroically provide rescue. At times during the past year, that’s what it has felt like.

To those that have hugged me in the past few months, you are my heroes.

LESSON 6: PORTLAND IS LOVE, UNCONDITIONALLY

A friend once complimented my pup, “Portland is such a ride or die”. She has much cooler lingo than I do. 100. Some days I still look at Portland and can’t believe we traveled across the country together. I don’t think he was always happy about it...and okay, he didn’t really have a choice. But it was a bonding experience that involved a lot of commitment and trust -- even if I learned that Portland has no concept of stranger danger if a house means there’s a comfy bed or couch for him to curl up on!

Dogs are often used as an example of unconditional love, and Portland has been there with me through it all. He is practiced in patience on slow moving days. Always there for a hug, able to make me laugh, drag me off the couch, ever ready for a walk or hike. I’ve dragged him through some pretty unforgiving trails and together we’ve braved thorn covered hillsides, ticks, and otherworldly terrain. He's tasted the Pacific Ocean and then begged me for water. The voice I typically give him usually says something like, “what has she gotten me into this time?”. He gets the best because he also accepts and loves me when I’m not at my best. There is a lot that people can learn from dogs -- and animals in general. Pets are definitely living their best life with more walks, belly rubs and attention during “quarantimes”.

Have you watched My Octopus Teacher on Netflix?

LESSON 7: FIND YOUR VOICE...AND USE IT

Without the events of the past year, Wildly Sarah would probably still be an idea floating around in the thought bubble where she lived for years before. I am a hard worker, a planner, and being laid off and unemployed during the pandemic has been tough. I will always keep busy, stay in motion and patiently await the right opportunity. This blog finally became a reality because of the gift of time and personal reflection that the past year presented. I have a story to share, I love writing, and hopefully sharing my experiences and positivity can help and inspire others in some small way.

Someone once complimented my independence as an adventure woman, “you’d do it all [general outdoor badassery] anyway...even without me”. And yes, Goose, that’s right.

I wonder how many people really believed I would drive across the country when I first mentioned the idea. In the past I’ve struggled with putting big ideas into action. But when I told them, “this is happening,” and there was no swaying me, and it was the best decision ever. Even during a pandemic.

Whatever that thing may be, living there in your thought bubble. If it’s really something you want to do, take action. Make it happen, cap’n.

LESSON 8: RESPECT DIFFERENCES

If there’s one thing that seems to remain a mystery a year into pandemic, it is the inability to navigate the social dilemmas of having a social life and the various comfort zones each of us now determines and exists within. The worst are the judgements cast from one group to another, and early on the stigma that existed around those who got COVID.

I had the unfortunate experience of entering the pandemic and learning a new way of life with an immunocompromised parent. I would have done anything to protect my Dad, and dreamed of a time we could watch a movie together or share a meal at his dining room table “if I just quarantined well enough”. My expectation of “normalcy” never aligned with reality, though we did find creative and safe ways to spend time together.

During that time of being more strict about quarantined living, I occasionally felt judged as if I had to defend that I was not a square, a control freak, unhinged, unrealistic. Whether it was some disparity in my head, or in the minds and conversations of others, it was awful. To me, my reasoning was one without question. I will fiercely protect the people I love. I know that on some level, everyone has had to face sometimes impossible dilemmas and make difficult decisions during the pandemic, and I hope you have not been put down or cast out because of it.

Today, my views of social distance and risk management are different from the rest of my immediate family. It is a gap I feel constantly. While I consider the risks I take to be minimal, I, like many others, have made the choice to take steps toward resuming a (responsibly) “normal” life, although it still feels mostly not normal. I know that others are still very strictly quarantining and there is no other choice than to respect that decision, no matter their reason.

Just like assessing risk and deciding about an outdoor activity, I’ve made it a personal practice to be open about my social interactions with the people I spend in person time with. I often wish everyone would do the same. “I’ve been hiking with friends.” “I’ve been traveling cross country.” “I ate inside at a restaurant.” This allows others to be aware of the potential risk they are accepting rather than hiding truths. You wouldn’t want to kayak up to a Class V rapid if you were only comfortable with a Class II.

The past year has been one spent battling the winds and the waves, with a sharp learning curve. As much as you can’t control the weather, you cannot change the past. My Mama once told me, “you were the very best Sarah you could be,” and hopefully at the pandemic’s end, we can all look at ourselves and others a little more kindly. Through all the bad there is still a great potential for good. Even on the days when we weren’t at our best, in this imperfect world where we didn’t know the outcome, and didn’t have the full truth of what this pandemic would turn out to be. Maybe, just maybe we were the best we could be.

If you've made it to this very last line of another long winded love letter...thank you!!

Until next time, Live Wildly!