What I’ve learned during two months of partial isolation
On March 16 the official State of Emergency that would change our regular rhythms of life in Estonia was instated. By choice I had already been working from home from the week prior to that. It had been two months since I’d returned to work from a 10-week break. Unknowingly, my previous years and what I did during 7 of those 10 weeks would prepare me for the crisis ahead.
This was one part luck, one part resilience-training.
What do I mean by that? Well, I used to be a person that could not stand being at home recovering from the flu for more than two or three days, because my feet started itching. If I could not go out, I would start doing physically active things at home, like cleaning the floors, organizing drawers or shuffling furniture around. I would then, of course, fall ill again. I couldn’t stay still. I had always been a social animal. Speak loud and long. Get excited (and also nervous) about public speaking. Actively participate in group meetings at work, or with friends. I had enjoyed organizing parties, going out to dance, or participating in networking events.
For years I have been going through a transformation that while not everyone can see, I can clearly recognize from within. My husband jokingly said to me recently “you have mutated into an introvert”. In a way it’s true. Although I start disliking labels more than before. I could call myself an ambivert, but then I feel forced to having to put myself inside a tight box. And unless I was a cat, being in a tight box sounds really uncomfortable. So, labels aside, I am in essence the same person, but it is true that I experience life very differently now, and that also means that those who know me well perceive me differently than they did before.
While it is hard to pinpoint exact events or factors that triggered these changes, I can recognize some. Having moved to a country (Estonia) where I had to adapt to a new set of social rules diametrically opposed to the ones from where I was born and raised (Venezuela) was definitely an important one. There are other smaller ever-present ones that only now I can identify. For example, by moving in with my husband, if he had to travel for work, I had to stay alone. Before I would always have a roommate, a sibling, or a neighbor to spend time with. I spent years during my childhood on my own while mom went to work, but in reality I would spend most of this time playing at a friend’s house. During my teenage years there was always someone at home, too. Then, as a grown up, I started traveling for work, as well. Lonely nights in hotel rooms were a new concept to me. Exciting most of the times, but scary many others. It was shocking to me to realize that I was not very good at that whole “being on my own” kind of world. So I started training myself for it. Being on my own became a challenge to learn from and enjoy. Being with my thoughts. Being with the silence. Being with my fears, and also with my dreams.
With this challenge I also started to observe myself more consciously in other settings. Not just my behaviours and feelings when being alone, but my behaviours and feelings around others. I started to see how loud I was (and at times continue to be). I noticed how sometimes I would interrupt others in a meeting (unintentionally, most of the times). It was obvious that the more people arrived to the party, the more excited I got. Running without music? No way! That was not possible!
Mix all those observations with my brain being exposed to materials related to minimalism, leadership, entrepreneurship, meditation, brain development, change management, emotional intelligence, social intelligence, the world of introverts, and what-not. Videos, books, podcasts, work trainings, evening past-times. All loading my brain with information that made me realize more and more what I was, who I was, and how others perceived me.
This conscious realization came with a set of emotions that forced me to want to change some of that. I was not enjoying everything I was observing. Most of being myself was fine, but some things in that self had things that could definitely be improved. Not in a quest for perfection. That is not possible. But in a quest for living a life in which I could feel more content, and where I could make others (up to where I can influence it) feel better as well.
Fast forward to today, April 30, 2020. We live in a world in crisis. A world where walking close to a stranger is an event. A world where going to the supermarket is the most important and risky adventure you can get yourself into. A world where, if you are lucky like me (this is the luck part) your work has moved from a comfy office with daily surprises, to a few square meters where you make the surprises happen. Our world has reduced from a typical 2–10 km commuting distance between office, shopping malls, parks and home, to a walk back-and-forth in a 30m2 space that acts as your makeshift office, your dining room, your pets beauty salon, your board-game family table, your cooking lab and your reading studio.
That is if you’re lucky. If you have your own space. If you don’t live in a violent home. If you were not made redundant. If you can afford the ingredients and tools for your fun and quarantine experiments.
Then there is the resilience bit. The part that came with training and hard work. The strength I prepared for years of growth, reflection and intentional personal development, and that I then intensely trained for during seven weeks out of my own decision, and that now I have to do again, but now because someone else had to decide for us. This is the value of taking breaks. This is the power of listening to ourselves and choosing to learn and grow.
Many people have all of what I mentioned above: The job, the tools, the company. But they are struggling with what is inside. I have bad days, too, don’t get me wrong. But no more than any other average person (assuming there is such a thing). I just feel I have more good ones than bad ones. And I can only conclude is that I have them because my training and my quest for a better self has worked. I can’t be sure I make others around me happy. But at least I can be sure I am happy, and that I am not (intentionally or consciously) causing harm to others.
Now, if I have to train without music, I enjoy it. If the only sound around me are my thoughts, I can patiently listen or wisely ignore them. If there are more people at home than I can deal with, I focus on the appreciative thoughts of such a situation. If I attend three meetings at work, I mostly listen in during two of those and mostly talk on the third. That is a 60% success rate. Perhaps I can get to 80. Never to 100. Perfection has never been the goal, and it would be unattainable if it were. But I enjoy that I can take what life throws at me these days. Bad and sad news come and hurt, but they don’t destroy. That is resilience. Energy goes up and down, but there is never a day when I don’t want to live. Maybe I am lazy in the morning and a bit hyperactive in the afternoon. Perhaps I have to force my mind into that task, or push my leg into that exercise. But there is a sort of peacefulness in it all. When it comes naturally and fluidly there is acceptance and joy. When it comes by way of discipline and with pressure, there is acceptance only. That is okay. When it is brought about by others, or when it is my own decision. That is okay.
I do not look forward to a future state, because the present is just fine the way it is. That is how I feel these days. I can flow between that old loud chatty person that runs to the sound of The Prodigy and that quiet thinker that writes while listening to Ludovico Einaudi or to nothing at all. It does not mean I do not dream of things, or make plans. I still do that. I just flow more evenly between that mental projection, and this meditation.
Originally published at https://marialasprilla.wordpress.com on April 30, 2020.
