Chapter after Chapter

Le Chateau sweater (c/o) (similar)
Zara jeans (similar)
Mango belt
Poppy Barley flats (c/o) (similar)
Anthropologie hair clip
Aurate NY bracelet (c/o)
Urban Outfitters earrings
Location: Osborne Village – Winnipeg, Manitoba

In the past week, I’ve read a number of slightly rearranged and reworded quotes about the fact that if it weren’t for the events of the past year, we wouldn’t know our present selves. That’s true. But it can be said to be true of any period of time, any chapter of our collective history. We didn’t need a pandemic and police violence against people of colour and a new rise of overt white supremacy to become our present selves. We would have continued to live, and evolve, no matter what events unfolded in the past twelve months. Self-improvement may be a byproduct of forced solitude and collectively experienced tragedy, but public health is the goal here. Our story could have unfolded differently. I doubt that we would have loved ourselves any more or less if it did.

While I understand the impulse to try to make this very long, unpleasant chapter of our lives seem as though it has a value of its own, I can’t agree with it. The thought of the time we’ve lost, and the people we’ve lost, could lead to abject despair if we can’t find something, anything at all, to feel grateful for in these very trying times. But even the most glittering silver lining – which this idea is not – cannot outweigh the cloud around it. We are growing and evolving, but that does not make the losses we’ve suffered – of time, of life, of belief in the systems that uphold the society we live in – any less devastating.

We can’t – and we shouldn’t try – to minimize how hard this experience has been. How hard it still is, and will continue to be. There is a time and place for gratitude, but let’s not pretend this is it. Let’s not accept the idea that so much hardship was worth a bit of personal growth, because on balance, that’s objectively untrue. Sometimes, abject despair is warranted. We just have to sit with that and experience it.

When I consider this chapter in the story of my life, it feels like a blank. There are no events to describe, no scenery beyond the walls of my home. Someday, when it’s over, I might be able to come back to the blank pages and fill them in. But when I do, I doubt that I’ll spend long on how glad I am that I got this quiet time to dedicate to self-improvement. In fact, I suspect that I’m most likely to be grateful that it’s over, and that I survived.

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