Category: coronavirus

The Bubble

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, mexico, self-discovery, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

As I laid in bed in my Mexican condo, beside my Mexican lover, watching Narcos Mexico on my Mexican TV, it finally dawned on me...

Oh yeah. I live in Mexico.

You see, I’d been stuck inside a bubble for the past five months. Granted, this bubble was a multi-million dollar mansion on the Sea of Cortez, equipped with a private chef, butler and anything my little corazón desired.

Everything except…privacy.

That would come after a vaccination and some negotiation.

OK, let me back this bubble story up a bit.

Last September I signed on to be a traveling teacher for a jet-set family. It was a wild and wonderful opportunity that came at an amenable time. The world was still recovering from the pesky pandemic, so why not wait it out in the lap of luxury and pile some pesos while I was at it? It was a no-brainer. I packed my bags and headed to the West Coast.

The caveat was that I’d be living with my employers. Not the worst thing if your employers provide all the aforementioned living amenities. But, for a 35-year-old single woman, this was going to be quite an adjustment.

Nevertheless, I committed.

And for the next five months, I found myself holed up in what I lovingly called the Cabo COVID Convent. I took full advantage of the all-inclusive set-up as I spent every non-working hour plugging away at my 200-page research paper.

If I wasn’t going to have a social life, I would at least finish my dissertation.

And, I was actually starting to get used to this swanky, solitary lifestyle. In fact, I took a solo Christmas sojourn around Baja that turned out to be one of the most blissful trips I’ve ever encountered.

But a social creature like me doesn’t last long alone. And, although I was enjoying my time with the “gente de la casa,” I needed a life outside the gilded gates within which I resided.

So, when the first vaccine shot presented itself to my arm, I gladly took it.

This was my freedom card.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

Oh, Holly. You jumped the gun, girl.

You know that Mexican lover I mentioned? Well, five days after my first shot, he invited me to dinner. The truth is, I sometimes snuck out of my bubble to feel like a pre-COVID person who has drinks with friends.

Now, before you lecture me on how my antibodies wouldn’t have kicked in yet, trust me, I was aware. But, alas. An innocent dinner with an infected friend turned into a 2-week quarantine as I recovered from the virus that has pestered us all for the past year.

F*cking COVID.

I had lived in an airtight bubble for many months, and it finally got me. Perfect timing, too. I had the biggest presentation of my Ph.D. life, and I couldn’t get out of bed. No smell, no taste, no hope. But, with all the time in the world, I powered through and defended my dissertation in the confines of a small, sullied Mexican hotel room.

I celebrated by taking a nap.

You can’t make this shit up.

So, what’s the silver lining?

Well, after my quarantine, I moved into my own condo. I had also started spending more time with the person that put me in quarantine in the first place. We started exploring Cabo in a way that made me feel like I actually lived there. And, I eventually got to spend a glorious week celebrating my graduation with family, friends and so much love.

So, yeah. Another example of life’s little rollercoaster shenanigans that always end in lessons learned and life lived.

And, as I prepare to leave the community I just started to feel comfortable in (we’re only in Cabo for the season, daaaling), I am reflecting hard on what commitment means and relishing my brief time with beautiful new friends.

Stay tuned for notes on my summer in San Diego…

Thoughts on 35

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, self-discovery, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment

This time last year I was looking at flights to Africa. 

I had a vision for my 35th birthday. I was going to do something epic. Something magnificent. Like, climb a mountain. Maybe, Kilimanjaro? Yes! To celebrate crossing my mid-thirties threshold, I would climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. 

But, if you were a human born after February, your birthday this year was probably a bummer. Or, it was meh. Or, fine. Or, weird. Or, whatever. But I’m sure it was a far cry from what you might have envisioned.

So, instead of sipping a celebratory beer in Tanzania and blogging about conquering Kili, I’m in my bed, quarantining at the Homewood Suites in La Quinta, California, and jotting down sleepless thoughts about turning 35. 

I’ll be here another 3 nights before taking my 7th COVID test and rejoining the family who now employs me as their private teacher. They’re staying at their Palm Desert home down the street. We all head back to the Cabo house on Friday (pending a negative COVID test, post- my thanksgiving blitz back home with lots of human contact and 3 commercial flights. Pray for me). 

It’s all very luxurious…

…and very, very strange. 

Indeed, COVID has forced us all to scale our lives and our plans and our birthday visions way back. But it’s also created unimaginable opportunities. 

Like, living with a fancy family and becoming a traveling teacher. 

Honestly, I’m not sure what I thought my life would be like at 35. And, although my current microcosm is unusual and unexpected, I can’t help but feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. 

And it’s because I’ve never felt so comfortable with being by myself before. 

Now, I’ll try not to sound like a self-help book, but 35 has got me thinking. Thinking about all the relationships I’ve leaned on in the past in order to feel fulfilled. Finding validation in friendships and family. Stumbling through fleeting and often unfavorable romantic relationships to fill a void. Or, a social quota. I don’t know. 

What I do know is that the most important relationship I’ll ever have is with myself. Aaaand there’s the self-help shite that I was talking about. But it’s true! Relationships change and grow and bend and break. BUT! If you can sit with yourself, reflect, stay calm, stay graceful and trust yourself – and the universe – enough to know that everything is going to be okay…then everything is going to be okay.

And, all your other relationships will benefit and bask in your self-love glow 🙂

After a deep, dark COVID dip, I’m feeling determined. Reformed. Empowered. Dare I say that 2020 has been a year of unprecedented self-transformation?

And, 35 feels good. Like, really good. Like, didn’t have to climb a mountain to feel good, good.

OK, I get it. My posts are emo as of late. So, I’ll leave you with something saucy about my rather curious circumstances.

I met “A” the first week I moved to the San Diego house. I was quarantining in the guest house, and I needed a distraction. Plus, I wanted to check out the SD dating scene. After all, it was my new, temporary home. So, we made a plan. I would meet him for sunset at Lifeguard Tower 19 after he finished surfing. So California. I was in. We met up, had beers and banter and bonded over Schitt’s Creek. I’d say, it went well. But, the next morning I woke up to a text along the lines of, “you’re great, but…I’m looking for something serious and long term and it doesn’t sound like you’ll be sticking around.” Dang. He was right. I was transient. And, I knew the universe was telling me to keep my head down and my self-development up.

So, I told myself to keep off the apps.

But, 2 months later, and another 4-day quarantine in Palm Desert had my fingers swiping left and right. Just out of curiosity, really. I mean, who even lives out there? Turns out, “S” did. Thanks to COVID, he was hiding out in the desert living a snowbird life and going through a similar self-transformation. So, we met up. And, it was great. He was great. It was all bloody great! But, alas! I was on my way out…again. In 48 hours, I would return to my Cabo COVID convent. Say that three times.

And, here I am. Back in my Mexican bubble, reflecting on the power of patience and the importance of timing. And, considering deleting Bumble. Because…what a tease!

Message received, Universe. Stay focused. Stay cool. And, write your dissertation.

All in good time.

The Lost Year. Here’s What I’ve Found.

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, self-discovery, self-help, Travel, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

You will love San Diego. Trust me. You will see. You will love it here.

It’s late and I’m trying to be cordial to my enthusiastic Uber driver. He’s originally from Iraq, and he regales me with reasons why he moved to San Diego. Fleeing from war and religious persecution in his motherland, yes, but…

the weather, mostly.

It’s been a weird year for the world – a lost year, if you will. And, in this moment, with this Uber driver, on my way to quarantine in the pool house of a very wealthy family before I start a 4-day working interview for the role of private teacher, fits perfectly in the nutty narrative of 2020.

But as much as we’ve lost this year – jobs, lives, our minds – COVID, for many of us, has been the catalyst for self-discovery. From unearthing buried burdens, to unpacking past relationships, to unscrewing the cork off of many a wine bottle, I’ve actually found a lot of useful things in this bizaar year.

Here’s some of the most important.

I am the sum of all my romantic experiences

Now, I’m not great at math, but I’m pretty sure that if you count up all of my heartbreaks, plus my disappointments, divide by all of my fabulous flings, subtract by the number of almost lovers, solve the slope of my first love, approximate the linear relationships of all the difficult dudes, and multiply by the power of 2 beautiful Brazilians and, well, that pretty much sums me up.

Indeed, I have found that all of my romantic relationships are a reflection of me and my flaws and my patterns that need adjusting. They’ve played a huge part in discovering who I am and what I want from a partner. So, I truly thank them. No resentment, only gratitude.

Speaking of…

Writing in a daily gratitude journal is totally transformative

Seriously. I know it’s kind of a life coach cliché, but that shit works. I bought one back in July when I started to feel a complete nervous breakdown coming on. As someone who has been actively trying to avoid such a personal catastrophe, I decided to give the gratitude journal a shot. Besides, I had the new privilege of leisurely mornings where I could make an elaborate breakfast and write down what I was grateful for.

And, so I did.

I’ve found that this simple ritual has transformed my mindset (and green smoothies have transformed my skin!). Starting each day with a focus, an affirmation, and a gratitude list has started shifting my anxious attitude to a more positive and productive perspective. It’s given me space to reflect on all the good things in my life and focus on staying calm, cool and collected, even if the rest of the world is falling apart.

In other words, I’ve started to…

Stop worrying and start living

Dale Carnegie’s 1948 practical guide to living a more joyful life has never been more apropos than right now. This guy knew that worrying will always be a disease of the human condition. So, he wrote a book to help cure us of the sickness that is stress, worry, anxiety, panick, etc. I’m halfway through, and, let me tell ya’, I’m starting to turn into a zen buddhist.

Yas, Kalidasa!

Most of our worry is made up of scenarios that haven’t even happened yet. We agonize over uncertainty until we literally make ourselves ill. For me, stress lives in my gut and, earlier this year, I couldn’t eat most foods, including my favorite COVID companion, wine. Travesty! I had to sort my stress out fast. Yet another catalyst of my self-care kick, and my discovery of Carnegie’s wisdom on combating worry.

Continuous self-improvement is a life-long game, people. I’m just glad I’m finally starting to learn the rules (and, shout out to some badass chicks that have been doing the work for years and are now dedicated to spreading the love and throwing some free life advice my way! – Marina and Poppy 🙂 )

These are only 3 of many eye-opening discoveries I’ve made during this lost year. It took a global pandemic to stop us all in our tracks and force us to sit with our demons and reassess our lives. For me, it meant working through past traumas, letting go, taking responsibility, staying gracious and embracing uncertainty. Because, shit. You just never know what life is gonna throw at you, do you?

I certainly didn’t think I’d ride the Covid wave to San Diego to start a new gig. But, here I am, polishing off this post with a glass of chardonnay in the rose garden, and processing just how wild 2020 has been.

As I start this new chapter (which will probably fill the pages of a book), I’m grateful for how far I’ve come, and excited for the work ahead. I will miss my Miami life and all who made it memorable. But, it was time for a change.

And a new adventure awaits.

OK, admittedly, this was an emo post. But, don’t worry. I will soon have tales of private jets and pool boy affairs. I just need to review my NDA to see what I can get away with…

Stay tuned.

–

My 3 Phases of Quarantine

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, self-help, UncategorizedTagged , , , , Leave a comment

If you’re reading this, there is a 50% chance I haven’t brushed my teeth today. 

Brushing my teeth used to be the last thing I did before I walked out the door. It was the signal to my brain that I had places to go and people to see.

Now, of course, that doesn’t happen often.

Consequently, my teeth are neglected. Amongst other things.

But that’s the new normal, right? The global transition from human interaction to self-isolation is now 5 months strong, and our daily lives have been seismically shifted forever. Or, at least, as far as the eye can currently see.

Regardless of our life circumstances – single, living alone with you demons, locked down with a new love, or married with 3, screaming kids – this corona coaster has forced everyone to face their own brand of sacrifice, sorrow and insanity.

And, redemption.

Here’s mine.

In 3 Phases.

Phase 1 – The Novelty

This is when the novel coronavirus had…well…novelty. Kind of like whenever there’s a Cat 5 hurricane barreling towards Florida. I can’t help but get excited. I’m all like, batten down the hatches! Shut the schools! This is gonna be a wild ride! Yeehaw!

So, I geared up. Got some masks. Bought some books. Prayed my two rolls of tp would see me through (they did not).

Activities such as one-person dance parties, zoom happy hours, and working in my “house dress” were still fun!

Heck, I even started running. I HATE running!

Grocery stores close at 5? No problem! Fat chance of going to a bar for the foreseeable future? All good! An indefinite delay with the already dismal dance that is dating in Miami? Perfect!

None of it mattered. I felt like I was doing my part for humanity and it felt great!

And boy, was I gonna take this quarantine by the balls and take time to self-improve!

I was practicing yoga in my living room, writing haiku poems about all the lovely little things I noticed, and actually reading the books I bought.

But then I started watching Handmaid’s Tale. Eerie parallels from the show’s dystopian world started to take shape and I was starting to feel stifled.

Also, I was running out of tp.

And so started my (lock)downfall.

Phase 2- The Mental Game

When the novelty of being trapped in my house for over a month wore off, and I started to find it harder to get out of bed, I moved into Phase 2 of the quarantine.

The mental game.

My daily mantra was… “this real life?” followed by “yeerp” and “not today, Satan!”

Sluggishly, I put on whatever house dress I hated the least that day, shuffled out of my pain cave, and greeted my roommate with some sort of grumble about it being the apocalypse.

I had lost my steam. My spirit was low. But, mostly, my motivation was missing.

I did my work at the bare minimum. And when I was done with my menial tasks for the day, I stared at the mountain of data waiting to be analyzed for my research.

And then I started drinking.

The truth is, I’ve never been a big boozer. But, it was the only consistent thing that seemed to lift my spirits. At the very least, it gave me an activity to do as I attempted to erase the long, uneventful corona days.

And then there was the shame.

In order to visit my best friend and her family, I was the only one enforced to wear a mask like the South Beach leper I’ve come to be treated as. (Yes, please guard your children from my COVID germs I’ve caught dancing by myself at Club Casa). I couldn’t even give my 4-year-old Godchild a real high-five to thank her for getting me a beer from the fridge and then carefully placing it 6-feet away from me.

Thanks, S! Auntie Holly loves you, even if you can’t see the smile on her face!

And then there was my soapbox.

I dragged that thing around and started mumbling incoherent things about violations to individual rights and how this collective effort was, for many, causing much greater suffering than would have otherwise occurred. I even exploited the distressing situations some of my students are living in to make my misguided point which was something along the lines of….

How long does this go on until we’re ALL f*cked?

And then I started badgering my abundantly cautious friends about a timeline.

“When will you feel safe enough to shake a hand? Eat at a restaurant? Take your mask off in public? When the government says so? CDC? When there’s a vaccination?! What’re metrics, man! ”

Most of my prudent friends (who also happen to be my smartest friends) didn’t have a clear answer. What they did have, that I was severely lacking, was a level head about their effort to help stop the spread of this vicious virus. They still held that it was their responsibility to do their part so other people didn’t die.

This is when I started to feel like an entitled fool.

(I also started watching Game of Thrones and realized, holy shit, nothing is worse – not even a global pandemic – than the fight for the Iron Throne!).

Thus, the shift to my current, more compliant, quarantine phase.

Phase 3 – The Acceptance

And now here we are.

Calmer. More accepting. And, definitely less angry.

Because, it is what it is.

And, making the small sacrifices, like wearing a mask (even though it reminds me, constantly, that I forgot to brush my teeth), is really no skin off my back.

I have a job, a beautiful apartment, my health (so far) and supportive friends and family. I’m privileged AF.

Do I still have dark corona days? Of course. These are what I like to call my TR days. It’s when I need the burly man voice of Tony Robbins to tell me to get the f*ck out of bed  and stop crying! Life is hard! But, you have a choice. Where your focus goes, your energy flows. Grow through what you go through. Responsibility is our ability to respond to the stress in our life. We have the power to give that stress its meaning. I can go on and on.

The point is this. I’m choosing a more positive perspective.

I’m getting my self-improvement game back on point. I bought a gratitude journal. I’m reading. I’m bossing out my dissertation. I’m stretching. I no longer have FOMO. I’m breathing. I took a road trip. I corona cruise in R’s coverable. I’m dancing. I go to the beach at sunset. I’m writing. I tutor amazing students on Saturdays. I occasionally cry. I drink less. I connect with friends and family more.

And, slowly but surely, my joy is resurfacing.

And, it’s all going to be OK.

These are wild times. So, stay well, my friends.

I gotta go brush my teeth…

 

 

(Self) Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, self-helpTagged , , , Leave a comment

In the days leading up to the WHO declaring COVID-19 a global pandemic, I experienced two unexpected traumas.

The first happened after some revelations from a recent relationship came to light; the other, a family matter. Both occurring consecutively and without warning. Both sending past traumas spiraling to the surface. And both giving a whole new meaning to self-quarantine. 

In terms of personal crises, coronavirus didn’t even break the top ten. 

Now, trauma is a strong word.

And, these occurrences didn’t exactly directly happen to me. Instead, they were the byproduct of the dysfunctional behavior of others.

Nevertheless, I’ve been caught in the crossfire and, with nowhere to run, I’ve been forced to face them head on with nothing more than a stack of self-help books and a weekly call to my therapist to shield me. 

From atoning my own mistakes in order to forgive others, to digging deeper and uncovering root causes, to confronting pain I didn’t even know existed within me – this worldwide lockdown has been a heavy trip down self-discovery lane.

But, before I continue to regurgitate all the fun, new psychological theories I’ve been learning about, I want to shift gears to something lighter. Something that we’ve all been strongly encouraged to do during this crisis. Something that is easier said than done, but is the key to our survival. 

It’s a little something called self-love. 

If you asked my friends to describe me, they would probably use words like gregarious, upbeat, self-confident, annoyingly positive. 

And, that would be mostly true. 

But, those characteristics are also great distractors from the not-so-sprightly sides of my psyche like anxiety, guilt, self-doubt, so on and so forth.

These sides, I’d say, are persistent in many of us. Especially during these strange times as we dance with our demons. See? Even my writing is getting weird.

The challenge, then, is to get up, get dressed, and get out of your head long enough to show yourself some love. 

And, for us single folks who currently have limited, intimate prospects, self-love is one of our only salvations. 

For me, it’s dancing on my balcony, potentially in my underwear, to earn a smile from a passerby.

Or, cooking a new, delicious meal to share with my quarantine partner, Rebecca (thank you, Lord Jesus, for a friend to fight this “invisible enemy” with).

Or, indulging in a little retail therapy (whilst dreaming of the day the clothes actually arrive and I can parade them in an open, public space with lots of handsome men who will appreciate them as much as I do, thus leading to many and mighty intimate prospects to make up for lost time! Oh dear, I digress…).

Or, it can be the simple act of forgiveness. 

Like, forgiving yourself for having 3 glasses of wine at lunch. Or, forgiving yourself for exchanging evening reading for Handmaid’s Tale binging (I am NOT sorry for that!). Or, simply forgiving yourself for feeling angry and shitty and anxious and hopeless and depressive and miserable, because…

We don’t have to be so fucking happy all the time! 

And, we’re all going through an unprecedented global fucking crisis!

So, we’re all allowed to feel fucking upset!

Dear Dr. S, I think we’re making progress!

I know I’m writing this from a place of privilege, where I still have my job and a roof over my head and food on the table and a gratitude list that still exceeds my bill of grievances. 

So, before I go off on a controversial tangent about how I feel a prolonged lockdown will no longer be for the greater good and, instead, will cause a devastating breakdown in many aspects of individual human life that will ultimately far outweigh the perceived loss we may be preventing by completely avoiding each other and losing the essence of what makes us human in the first place… 

I will now stop. 

And, take a deeeeep breath, inhaling positive thoughts and intentions. And, exhaling out anxiety, self-doubt and guilt…so I can continue to persevere through this pesky pandemic. 

Good luck out there. 

And, be kind to yourself. 

…But, if you do get to love on someone else (like me, last night, with the boy I started seeing pre-quarantine who reemerged long enough for me to hug and kiss him longer and harder than usual…I know that’s what she said, but don’t kill the moment!)…do that, too. 

Because, as it turns out, loving others is just as essential to our human nature as loving ourselves.

So, I hope the world opens up to more of that soon. 

With a little less abundance of caution.