Break Up Bangs, Surviving Seattle, and Other 2020 Stories
Finding Resilience in 2020
I sat at my stepsister’s kitchen sink as she excitedly dunked a comb in water and took out her scissors.
Is my stepsister a hair stylist? No. Has she had any formal training? No.
But at the time, none of this mattered. To add insult to the general injury of 2020, I was fresh off a breakup and in a stage of not giving a damn.
I decided to give this energy an outlet and unfortunately that “energy” landed on the front of my forehead.
Somewhere inside me knew that worst case scenario I had a plethora of bobby pins to hide any unfortunate grow out and most of my interaction these pandemic days is 2D, anyways.
I watched the strands of hair fall to the floor and felt good about my impulsive decision. That was until I looked in the mirror and my face fell. Strands of hair that were supposed to be bangs shot straight up from my head.
“Your hair is weird,” my stepsister stammered, “I cut my bangs all the time and they never look like that.”
For anyone who has gotten “bad bangs” and has spent months fumbling around with them, you know the potential heartache.
Fortunately, that “not giving a damn” was locked, loaded and ready to fire. I was the one that had asked her to do this. For the most part, I was not phased.
Resilience is a pivotal part of my story. It is the fire in my belly that complements that Aries fighting spirit, making me rise from the ashes, and stand up over and over again.
I have a degree in Journalism and graduated at the dawn of the new media revolution, as well as a recession. I grew up in a household where “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” and “tough it out” were frequent catchphrases. I am a born fighter.
In addition, my ability to spring back has enabled me to have an adventurous heart. Life without adventure is no life at all, and therefore life without resilience is not an option.
2020 however, has shaken my relationship with this word.
Resilience for the first time feels messy, complicated and hard to define.
As the universe would have it, I would be given the opportunity to explore this concept in a workshop I facilitated for Roaring Fork Leadership Live Resiliency Experience. It was a virtual place for me to share my storytelling expertise to help others refine and define their personal narratives of 2020.
When first asked, I confidently said yes. But when I saw my name beside that enigma of an “r” word, I could not help but feel like an imposter.
I AM RESILIENT. Wait, am I resilient?
Let me give my 2020 some context.
We all have a story from this year. Some of you may find your story in mine.
It began at the epicenter of this virus in Seattle. In September, I was fortunate enough to relocate to a picturesque mountain town in Colorado, a place and community I had called home four years prior. The move has been a huge blessing and a gift to my sanity.
Flashbacks of Seattle look like something out of a horror sci-fi movie. Memories of walking around a barren city resembling a zombie apocalypse, discovering exactly what “shelter in place” means, experiencing a 40-day quarantine alone, and watching my friends virtually deteriorate week after week on zoom.
A vivid memory plays where I was caught on the highway going through downtown during the first violent riot in the city. The sheer terror of a normal day suddenly going into emergency. What sounded like an Amber alert harping from my phone, only instead of a missing kid, the text read a mandatory shut down of the city and a closing of the highway. I was already living in a twilight zone, I had no idea how much worse things were about to get.
Up until this point the protests had been peaceful, but on this day the city turned into an actual warzone, downtown stores were broken into, looted or lit on fire. The rioters had now entered the highway, which had never happened in Seattle’s history. This would be the start of months of violent rioting.
And there I sat in my car unable to move. I was sitting duck to whatever was to happen in that moment. All I could do was listen to the local news and pray. I remember hearing long-term local reporters cry on-air as they reported live from what they described as “never-before-seen terror.” They then reported a missing AR-15 that had been stolen from one of the many police cars that had been lit on fire in the name of “equality.”
Shots were reportedly being fired. Nobody knew what would happen next. The drivers in the cars began to panic around me. I watched some of them illegally go into the side lane and actually go in reverse for a mile stretch to the nearest exit.
Seattle 2020 riots Source: www.reddit.com
I called my sister. She cried, I cried.
We sat in silence on the phone, she refused to hang up until she knew I was safe. Two hours later, I made it to the exit that was only a couple miles down the road and it was only then she allowed me to get off the phone.
I have felt the repercussions of six unoccupied blocks of mayhem also known as C.H.O.P, been at the pulse of political fury and seen mob rule almost take over a city, I’ve seen blatant corrupt city leadership and hatred that was so palpable that I could touch and taste it.
My eternal faith in humanity has been tested. I have experienced this virus through the lens of boarded up buildings and hundreds of closed businesses. Not to mention, attempting to navigate this as an entrepreneur.
But, damn these bangs.
I am still processing the dark of 2020, but with dark, there is always light.
So much light has been revealed.
Any superficial friendships have completely vanished. All people in my life know me at a level of human, instead of just professional. I take time in my day to be more present, thoughtful and intentional with my actions. I have found support where I never thought and have been in true awe of my amazing friends and family.
Solo-hiking Storm King in August 2020
During certain parts of lockdown I got into the best shape of my life. I put all my anxiety into exercise. As soon as the mountains re-opened, I became an avid solo hiker (something I have always wanted to do). The ironic thing about the wilderness is when humanity goes crazy, it becomes the tame and civil one. I took full advantage.
But Still resilience in a 2020 setting, I had to sit on this.
When I moved to Colorado, I was all but a broken shell of my former self. That warrior heart of mine felt defeated and for the first time, I wasn’t sure how to properly bounce back.
This unknowing of how to re-ignite my light, killed me.
When the virus first broke out, I activated every “tough” aspect of my personality. I adapted. I flowed. I stayed positive and fearless (for the most part). I found ways to occupy my body and mind in a space of productivity. And for months I had survived, but as things consistently changed and the streets became more dangerous and my world got more isolated and limited,
there was a day were my tough spirit just was not enough.
The day when “tough” wasn’t enough was perhaps the hardest day of my story. The only way out was through. In prep for workshop, I began to explore all notions of resiliency. I asked friends, read online articles, and listened to audio books.
The more I researched, the more I found that this word WAS complicated.
I discovered that:
And then came my own “aha" moment. My innate resiliency hadn’t left me, in fact it was still very much part of my story. It had just taken on a new form. It a was softer, more compassionate version of the word, than I had ever known.
It was a resilience that allowed rest when needed, compassion and forgiveness for the days in which I didn’t accomplish much and a sweet, sweet surrender of control. It was a resilience that allowed me to let go, sell or throw away anything that didn’t fit into a car, and move on to a new chapter.
It is also hard to be resilient in on-going trauma.
So, I give you, dear reader full permission to feel all of your feelings and to be all levels of resilient. Even if that means just getting out of bed.
“Toughing it out” makes you a survivor, but in order to thrive and be a “thrivivor” we must learn to tap into all levels of resilience.
An unfortunate sacrifice comes with constantly toughing out life. There is a hardening to the world that must also take place, limiting our own ability to receive and give love. If we don’t want to live disconnected and empty, we have to choose better.
Last week, a friend and I were enjoying happy hour. A simple act that I will never take for granted again.
She saw me fighting my bangs to stay put.
“I love you,” she said. “But we have got to do something about those bangs.” She then gave me her hairstylist’s phone number.
“Break up bangs” I shrugged. We both laughed.