My Sustainable Life
My “Covid clock,” as I now refer to it as, started on March 12 (2020). That was the day that life as I knew it – full of friends, fun and overpriced cocktails – all came to a screeching halt! I was a guest-host at a local monthly literary event (LitNight) the previous night and remember joking with the other authors, friends and strangers that only elbow bumps would be exchanged that night as opposed to hugs and high-fives, all because Covid 19 was in the midst. There was little to no foreshadowing of the cataclysmic events that would take place in the days to come.
Fast forward to a few weeks later. We were in full lockdown mode – "sheltered in place” as the men in the dark-colored suits and glasses on TV referred to it. In the days that followed, I allowed full-fledge fear to rent space in my spirit as interpretations of Revelations, images of patients on ventilators, conspiracy theories and commentary from Don Lemon all collided. I lost the desire to be social and engage with my circle; Dr. Fauci became my best friend. Relief soon followed as my empty nest became occupied again and one of my most prized possessions, my youngest son, made it home safely from college in St. Louis. So there we (my family) were – in the midst of a pandemic – with plenty of toilet paper, paper towels, hand sanitizer and canned goods to spare, but no place to go. When boredom set in we went for long walks in our neighborhood and awkwardly introduced ourselves to neighbors who had lived beside us for years but had never met. When walking got old, we binge watched each and every Netflix, Hulu and Amazon movie or series that received honorable mention on our social media timelines. So when I wasn’t at work (from home), asleep, watching TV, walking, fixing up my “patio palace” or virtually dancing at Club Quarantine; I ate, exercised, slept and only wrote when a deadline was near.
About two months into my new routine, I hit another roadblock when I watched the life be sucked out of George Floyd right before my eyes. I hit a stumbling block again in my writing but fought through it. Through prayer, supplication, and journaling, I started to find my way again and got back into the rhythm I’d lost, which ultimately led to my productivity peak. Granted there were some days that I didn’t feel much like writing, but I forced myself to fight through the emotions I felt and distractions. I resisted scrolling through the negativity and devastation on the news and in my newsfeed and I took it “back to the basics,” remembering what sparked my passion for my craft in the first place. And since then, I’m happy to report that my ghostwriting business has taken off by leaps and bounds and that I now have more work on my plate than I can shake a stick at. I have not skipped a beat and for that, among so many other things, I am grateful...(read more)...