10 More Things I Learned During Covid Isolation
This is a continuation from my last post, where I talk about my experience of having Covid just before Christmas.
I tried to narrow what I learned from 10 days on my own to 10 items, but I failed miserably. So here are 10 more things isolation taught me.
To read the first 10 learnings from my experience with Covid click here.
10 (more) things I learned in Covid Isolation
It’s a good time to make a photobook whilst in quarantine.
Photobook creation websites like Photobook Canada (which I used) have some pretty amazing programs to create truly unique and professional books. 10 days honestly flew by just learning how to use the different features, and create a photo cookbook of all my Nana’s recipes that I was sure my mom would love. Honestly, hours went by without a thought dedicated to this very consuming project.
It takes a f***ing long time to put together a photobook.
Spoiler: It took me so long to make the photobook that it did not arrive in time for Christmas. On the final day of my isolation, I actually kind of wished I had another day or two to finish working on it in peace.
Sometimes exercise feels unproductive.
Don’t get me wrong, I will always feel a high after finishing a workout, whether its a HIIT workout, a challenging pole class, or a long walk. But when you have a 100 page document (or photo cookbook) to edit and a fast approaching deadline, sweating for the sake of sweating or leaving your house to walk the same route for an hour only to arrive back where you started feels rather redundant. For that reason, as well as for the sake of my immune system that was currently being attacked by virus particles, I took a pretty big step back from exercise during my isolation. And I felt pretty accomplished by the end of it.
I own too few pairs of pajamas.
Pretty much all I wore the entire 10 days I was isolating. And the few days I was sick and without test results before that. I even started walking my dog in my PJ’s, just throwing on my boots and coat. How many days did I go wearing the same pajama bottoms? I will take the answer of that to my grave.
Bras are overrated.
See above. The closest thing I came to a bra were the sports bras I would wear for pole. And sometimes they doubled as a shirt paired with my PJ bottoms for the rest of the day. I had surprisingly very little laundry to do after those 10 days quarantined at home.
Even introverts succumb to loneliness at some point.
While I am not a through and through introvert (hello Leo), I definitely have an introverted side along with my streak of independence. For most of quarantine, I was pretty content with my puzzles, a hallmark Christmas movie, and my pole. However, there were times where I really and truly felt like an outsider to the rest of the world. I would see instagram stories and posts of friends getting together for christmas parties, work events, or even just coffee dates and that’s when loneliness would hit. In those moments, I would even consider giving up my PJ pants for some human interaction.
A bit of dancing everyday keeps sadness at bay.
While I didn’t do much in terms of “working out,” most days I did end up finding my way to my pole, fuelled by my Spotify playlist of a few good songs in a row. I just moved and grooved and spun myself around, for as long or as little as I was feeing, and inevitably, I came out of those dance sessions with a little happiness boost. Well worth the slight feeling of out of breathness after (which did thankfully go away after my 5th or 6th day in isolation).
Even dogs need space.
For 10 days, it was just me and my 13 year old husky/shepherd Jaeda. I am a cuddler. Jaeda less so. Craving some form of interaction and affection, I often looked to Jaeda for a good cuddle session. She would always oblige for awhile, but after 10 or so minutes had past of me skootching into her bed with her, she would look sideways at me, give a little groan, and heave her old bones off of her cushy bed to lay on the floor in another room alone. It could be said that perhaps Jaeda fared isolation even better than I did.
Thank God for Facetime.
In the moments I didn’t even have the affection of my dog to quell my feelings of loneliness, Facetime was always there to give me to the kind of human connection only eye contact, facial expression, and a familiar voice can offer. To all the beloved friends who called to check in on me, or answered my calls where I had very little new and exciting to share, you know who you are, and you are appreciated.
There are some hidden gem christmas movies on Netflix.
I watched more Christmas movies this year than I have in the past three years combined, thanks to Covid. As someone who is not all that fond of rewatching movies, especially those of the Hallmark variety, I was pleasantly surprised to find several new ones that were more than decent. At the top of my list were Lovehard, Let it Snow, A Knight for Christmas, A California Christmas and Klaus.
So there we have it. 10 Learnings from 10 days in Isolation. In the end, not all that miserable, and in many ways, rewarding. But would I willingly do it again? Probably not. I prefer my puzzles with a side of conversation. And I am running out of pajamas.
Have you had to isolate for covid? How did you kill the time?
Happy New Year,
Jordan xoxo
A Very Covid Christmas (again)- and 10 Things I Learned in Isolation
This Christmas I officially joined the covid club. I still have no idea where I got it, although between teaching in person and a busy social life, there are several possibilities. I am very lucky, in that my symptoms were mild. I had a scratchy throat, and a light cough for a few days, but in all honesty if it was not covid times, I would have felt guilty taking off any more than a day of work for it.
It started with feeling tired , and as a new teacher I didn’t really consider that a symptom, as much as an unavoidable way of life. But then my throat started feeling weird. I thought I was just dehydrated. It wasn’t so much sore as it was scratchy. Honestly it was only as I was sipping a beer in the distillery, feeling as if lacerations were being lit up as I swallowed the carbonated liquid that I started to make the connection. However, after two bouts of pretty bad colds/flus already this fall, I wasn’t super concerned it was covid. I really just didn’t want to be sick in any kind of way in these weeks leading up to christmas.
I went home, went to bed , thinking a good sleep would help. Instead I was up half the night feeling feverish, hot and cold at the same time, with a pounding headache, and achy as if I had arthritis in my hips. At 4:30 that morning I sent an email with my principal with typo laden plans explaining my absence that day.
I woke up feeling much better. My fever was gone (did I even have one in the first place? I wondered). My throat felt much better, and my headache was mostly gone too. I did have some phlegm and a cough, but it was much milder than the cough I had the last time I was sick, and that was not covid.
I somehow miraculously did not infect any member of my family, despite seeing them over the weekend and on the very day I started having symptoms, and for that I am eternally grateful. I did, however, land my lovely roommate with Covid for the second time. And unlike me, who luckily gets to leave my isolation the eve before Christmas eve, she only started having symptoms a few days ago and must spend Christmas on her lonesome until the 27th. She isn’t holding it against me, and I’ve been showering her with early Christmas gifts including a delivery of Craig’s Cookies and an UberEats gift card, but I still feel awful to have thrown a wrench into her family Christmas plans.
The most distressing part of this whole debacle is that I have to suffer the inconvenience of 10 days of isolation during the week of excitement and anticipation leading up to the 25th. I missed several Christmas events, including the annual Christmas reunion dinner with my high school friend group, and our family Christmas on the 19th with cousins who live in BC was cancelled completely. My hopes of sipping (chugging) mulled wine with my cousins watching our parents get equally as toasted were dashed.
But as I am continuously reminded, it is just the times.
I feel like I’m going through the ultimate 2020 rite of passage having covid. In a fucked up kind of way, receiving my positive result from a PCR test almost felt like a golden ticket to Wonka’s factory-- something I had heard about, and always knew was a possibility, but never quite believed I would ever be the recipient. It felt as if I was just hearing the term “Omnicom” and gossip about Covid becoming a big “thing” again, when all of a sudden I had it.
People are continuously fascinated by Covid. It has this air of intrigue composed of both awe and fear around it, the virus equivalent of “He Who Must Not Be Named” (AKA Voldemort, for the non-potter-heads). When I got my test result, I contacted all the people I had seen the weekend leading up to it. The owner of my pole studio sent out a message to those I had been in class with me letting them know they had been in contact with “a positive case.” “Don’t worry! The owner assured me. I didn’t say it was you! I Kept it anonymous. It was very kind of her to do that, but also, why do we have this attached shame complex to a positive test? Its not as if anyone conspires to get covid and then spread it to as many people as they can. Its a virus that as a world, we are all fighting together.
Friends reached out with the same questions:
How are you?
What are your symptoms?
How did you get it?
My not very exciting responses were okay, fine, and no idea. They were relieved I was okay, but at the dame time there is a sense of disappointment. Like that’s it? This is what we’ve been hiding from for close to 2 years?
I get it. But still, I am grateful that this, for me, is all covid was.
My isolation companion, Jaeda
10 Things I learned in Covid Isolation
Covid feels like a mild cold (and I thank being vaxxed for that.)
I’ve been sick three times this fall/winter already, and each time my symptoms were much more severe than this. Other than a short bout of feeling feverish in the middle of the night when I first started feeling off, covid felt no worse than a mild cold. I had a scratchy throat for two days, and a very light cough and not a ton of energy for a few more after that. However, by day 4 or 5, I would’ve been back to my regularly scheduled life if what I had wasn’t covid.
I know some people might take this as proof that covid really isn’t a big deal, and that there are unnecessary precautions and restrictions being made out of fear/ corruption/ ignorance etc… But I am pretty confident that being double vaxxed probably had something to do with the very mild and manageable experience I had. And, for what I am very grateful, keeping my parents and family, and students from not getting infected by me, considering I was in close contact with many people right up until the night I had my fever. Yes, I got covid, BUT it could have been MUCH worse.
2. It's very convenient to isolate in walking distance to family.
This fall, my grandfather moved into a care home, leaving his house right next to my family home empty, Even before I got my official positive test result, my parents invited me to do my isolation in this empty house so I would have room to sprawl out and also be nearby for them to help me out. I know I am beyond lucky to have this convenient set up, but it was honestly a life saver. And every home cooked meal that was lovingly delivered to my door did not go unappreciated.
My Grandfather’s empty house where I spent the past 10 days in isolation
3. I will never again take for granted the opportunity to grocery shop in person.
Grocery delivery services and Instacart are very convenient, and during my 10 days of isolation, they kept me well fed and well stocked. But as a grocery shopper, I am much more of an in-the moment impulse buyer of what looks good versus writing a list. I swear I spend longer navigating the instacart website, trying to rack my brain for what I want to eat for the next week versus walking the aisles and buying what looks yummy at a good price. I also felt denied the experience of food shopping in the days before christmas… Meandering the festive displays of chocolates and oranges and fresh figs as Christmas music blares through the aisles. People watching the festive folk grocery shopping in Santa hats and holiday sweaters , carts filled with things for entertaining like wheels of brie, giant panettone, and cartons of egg nog. Maybe I am a bit of an odd duck, missing food shopping in this way but there's nothing like being locked indoors for an extended period that makes you miss these ordinary experiences of being human.
4. I am more introverted than I thought
At first, the prospect of having to isolate for 10 days sent me into a spiral of dread. I hate being alone, I thought. I am an extrovert! I need people. Turns out I can be pretty content on my own with a puppy, a home pole studio, and a puzzle. I was able to get lots of writing done, make several gifts for family, friends, and their dogs (hello, hand sewn bandanas) and watch anything I wanted without compromise. Actually by dat 9, I was kind of wishing I had one more day of isolation to get a little bit more done before my time was up and I was thrown back into the mayhem of a family christmas.
5. I still remember the majority of every Taylor Swift song
I love to sing, but living in close quarters with a roommate, I never subjected her every often to my belting it out musical theatre style impromptu concerts. In a big house on my lonesome, with Taylor Swift playing on my spotify, I didn't hold back. Turns out I remember the obscure lyrics from obscure tracks on Red and 1984 just as well as I did back in 2010.
6. Christmas cookies taste better when you can share them
Near the end of my isolation, when I figured I was mostly noncontagious, I started christmas baking, making dozens of beautiful cookies. It felt nice to bake, but when you are sharing the finished result of a perfectly shaped sugar cookie or lightly whipped aquafaba meringue with none but yourself and your dog, the joy falls flat just a little. I could've eaten oreos with my hot chocolate after that day of baking and been equally as satisfied, and created much less of a mess.
7. The truest friends don’t forget about you when you are MIA (out of sight out of mind)
Despite my new discovery of an introverted side, it was really amazing to hear from friends throughout my isolation. I totally get out of sight out of mind, and I hate to say I often fall into that pattern of interaction, especially with friends and family in different cities and provinces. So when I was dropped off a covid care package from my extremely thoughtful long time friend, I felt loved and appreciated and cared for, and I think that itself made the entire isolation experience so much more endurable. Even something as simple as the texts I received from various friends and family checking in on me, or saying hi in just a sentence or less were beautiful reminders of the connections I had in my life, and the friendships I do not take for granted.
covid care package from a dear friend <3
8. A walk does not need to be 5 kilometres
In isolation, technically you are not supposed to leave yourself. In a very quiet street in the suburbs, I made an exception twice a day (morning and night) to venture out to walk my dog (masked) and keeping away from people. My dog is 13. We do not go far and we do not go fast. The furthest we ever go is barely 2 kilometres and it takes close to 45 minutes, with lots of breaks for sniffing things. Usually however, it's closer to ½ a kilometre, to the park to walk through a woodlot and back .
Before getting covid, I had a pretty ingrained habit of getting at least 5 km in a day. Sometimes it was all at once. Sometimes it was a few kilometres to school, a few back, and then another few over lunch. Anything less felt well-- lazy. After 10 days of slowing down to Jaeda’s senior citizen pace, I realize getting out for just a slow walk around the block can do just as much for my spirits and energy as a speedy 7 km loop around the city. Also, I think having a dog as company on these walking ventures is also a big factor in the happiness level achieved.
9. It's okay to walk zero kilometres a day.
Expanding on the last point a little more. There were some days in my isolation where Jaeda was sore or the weather was rainy and miserable where it made no sense to break covid protocol and venture outside. And while the first day this happened I felt pretty anxious , I did it and (obviously) nothing bad happened. If anything, it felt freeing. As much as it was a downer getting covid, especially at christmas time, in a way I am thankful that it forced me to face this very deceptive compulsion I have continued to hang onto. As healthy of a habit of walking every day is, the fact that I was doing it pretty compulsively was important for me to break.
10. After a long time of not being around other people, it starts to matter less what they might think.
In isolation I didn’t wear makeup for the whole 10 days. I also did not wear anything but pajamas (and pole shorts) for most of that 10 days either. At first, the exception was putting on a pair of leggings to go walk the dog. But in the latter half of my isolation period, I found myself not caring enough to get up and change out of my pjs and would simply throw on a coat over my fuzzy plaid pj bottoms before leaving the house. After doping it once, I did it every time. I didn’t even feel silly. I just felt like a girl walking her dog in her pajamas and I owned it.
I came out of isolation on the eve of December 23rd, just in time to celebrate christmas with my family. In some ways, it was a very convenient circumstance of covid. But I am still happy its over.
Out of isolation, Christmas morning. Jaeda was happy too.
How was your covid christmas?
xoxo
Jordan
Growing versus Growing Up (Thoughts after 27 Years around the Sun)
This week I turned 27. It’s not a big milestone birthday, but in that way it almost feels more weighted. 27 is significant in how seamlessly I now classify as someone in their “late twenties.” There is little novelty and pomp around this birthday, the way it was around 21 or 25. Turning 27, I am not old by any means, but I am no longer “new” to adulthood. I am all grown up.
Except not really.
In a lot of ways, I feel brand new to this adult existence.
In terms of the place I am at and what I have accomplished so far in life, I am still young. I have friends who are the same age and yet not young in the same way, settled with partners sharing bedrooms, lives, mortgages, and even families. Friends with jobs that have benefits and yearly incomes, who talk about market prices in the city vs. the surrounding areas, and go furniture shopping not out of necessity but by choice.
It’s not that I feel unaccomplished or wish I was at that point in my life. If anything, I wish that I could remain in the fresh-out-of-school, finding-yourself-stage for a little while longer. I feel like I’m not done with my days of being untethered.
And I don’t mean in terms of relationships. I mean untethered to a single path or direction or vision of my life and way it is being shaped.
I got off to a late start in my adult life.
I spent the majority of my teens and early twenties with an eating disorder, which caused me to miss out on the kinds of connections and memories that can only come from spontaneous nights out that end drunk ordering pizza to someone’s apartment. And then entering recovery, I essentially surrendered my independence to my family and treatment team in order to get better.
So while all my friends were moving out and starting careers, I was on temporary leave, living in my childhood bedroom, on a strict recovery meal plan enforced and implemented by my parents. While other 24 year olds were updating their CVs and planning travel adventures, I was completing a daily meal log to be reviewed and approved by my therapist and dietician.
After two years of family-based treatment, I was finally healthy enough to step into my independence and grow into the next chapter of my life. So at 25, I moved out of my parents’ house for the first time and landed myself in a house full of roommates. I was doing things for the first time on my own, like shopping and paying for groceries, making rent each month, and washing my sheets. It was a learning curve, and a little unnerving.
I felt like an 18-year old off to my first year of college. Instead I was 25, with a new teaching contract with the Toronto school board, a masters degree, and a meal log.
I am only now at 27 starting to feel like I have found a bit of a rhythm in this adultness of life. I no longer go into whirls of anxiety over grocery shopping, or the idea of budgeting for household items like paper towel and toilet paper.
I pay my rent each month automatically a day before its due, and I recently took on my own phone bill too (thanks dad). I like coming home to my house of four roommates, flopping onto the couch with a glass of wine and lamenting about that guy I liked who turned out to be an asshole. I like having a contract teaching a certain grade at a certain school, with a definite start and end, because I like the idea that there is something different that comes after.
I still follow DJs and entertainment groups on instagram, because I am still holding out for another summer of music festivals and events, which I only got to taste in my eating disorder, and put on hold in my recovery.
Now I want to sink my teeth in.
However, I also feel the pull of solid ground beneath my feet, to find one centre of gravity. I’ve spent years floating, orbiting erratically, attached to many things but never something solid enough to keep me flying.
And this groundedness will NOT come from chasing highs at music festivals, a new fitness goal, or a living arrangement.
This groundedness will be found when I surrender to the process of accepting myself as I am, where I am, and where I am going.
I am 27. I am no lo longer a little girl, an angsty teen or a university student still “figuring it out.” I am a woman, strong and independent, who has been through enough of life to know what is worth pursuing and what to let go of in that greater pursuit.
I don’t need to force myself into a mold, or meet a certain deadline.
I don’t need to manipulate my body to look a certain way. Equating beauty to worth is unsustainable happiness. For even if I managed to get my body close to the standard I may have in my head, it will only be a short matter of time before gravity and the the sun take their toll and kick off the natural aging process that our society demonizes. And so, at 27, I am grateful for the health and youth of my body as it is right now.
I will live this year and the ones going forward without restricting myself in any way.
I am shifting the narrative-- rather than making my body my masterpiece, I will focus on making my life my masterpiece instead. My body is simply the instrument that will get me there.
A few years ago, I had no vision or understanding of my life beyond the moment I was in. Each day felt like a mountain I needed to scale, and it felt impossible to picture anything realistic beyond that. But now, the path I am travelling is infinitely less steep. I can see a little further ahead of me, and I can start to map it out a little.
I don’t need to pin down the exact route, or even specific destination, but I can at least choose a direction, and commit to the journey to get there.
I do not have any big concrete goals for this year, especially with all the external uncertainty at present (thanks covid!).
I am not expecting a permanent teaching job to come within my grasp, I am not planning some extravagant travel adventure, or even changing my relationship status.
I am not opposed to any of these things happening this year, but if they don’t, I will NOT feel like I’ve failed in any way.
Rather than make goals for the year, I am shifting my focus to the way I live every day. If I can go to bed every night feeling like I did the best I could to make the most of each moment that day, I’ll be making this year a smashing success. It’s the little steps, NOT the big leaps, to which I’m devoting my attention.
Ultimately, my goal for 27 is to make every day count.
I’m living for the journey, relishing the good parts of everyday, not postponing celebration for some elusive destination.
