It was only at the end of April, when I was done with my last final exam of the term, that I could finally acknowledge that I felt some sort of emptiness in regard to completing my program at Camosun. It felt strange to realize that I had left the campus for the last time as a student without knowing it at the time. And the lack of perspective of a graduation ceremony floated along with many unanswered questions in the ocean of uncertainties brought by the COVID-19 pandemic.
Back in the beginning of March, concerns and rumours about the COVID-19 transmission rate in Canada—and specifically here on Vancouver Island—were already part of informal conversations in the hallways, at the beginning of class, and during breaks. Instructors talked of the possibility of classes moving online. Still, up to that point it all somehow felt distant from us. My last day at a Camosun campus was on a Friday, March 13. Despite the cinematographic myth that lays around the date, I never would have expected that such a shift in reality would have happened so rapidly.
The transition to online classes was surprisingly efficient but frenetic: I methodically built a colour-coded timetable to be able to discipline myself in order to juggle tasks and to hand in papers on time. I had certainly been through stressful loads of study before; however, the big struggle this time was because there was a stressful mix of feelings hovering over my list of due dates. I was overwhelmed by the uncertainties that arose with the spread of the virus worldwide and my mind was very busy trying to process the news while keeping up with studies.
I have no reason to doubt the importance of sharing both successes and failures, but I tend to believe that some of us may have a tendency to feel more at ease with the first. Perhaps there is more room for success stories that bring some kind of moral to the table to be told. But then what happens when we find ourselves in the midst of a pandemic that shakes us out of our routines, interrupts our plans, and makes us face fear and loss? We’ve been in the middle of a story—and, in this case, a history—yet to be told but in which we struggle to see the real turning point to overcome all that has been hitting us hard thus far.
This is why the pandemic has led me to think a lot about vulnerability.
As I write this story almost three months after my last day at Interurban, I do not have the ambition of offering a guide for self-motivation, or to exemplify any triumphs from the point of view of a very well accomplished person in dealing with the current crisis. I am not exactly that person, nor do I have the necessary knowledge to present anything like that. I simply take this opportunity to share some thoughts as a recognition of how vulnerable we may have become in the midst of recent world events, and to make a point that there should be no shame on embracing our fragility first in order to move toward a healing process of dealing with the impacts of the pandemic in our lives.
Even though I was quick to build my timetable for the assignments, I don’t mean to fool anyone into thinking I had it all figured out. This was not really the case and it was clear when, for example, I had to write an essay for one of my Marketing courses about some of the short-term impacts and possible outcomes of the pandemic for a business-to-business company. I would never disagree that the proposal of an academic task directly connected with current events is a great idea and reinforces the theory that educational institutions play a key role in improving our societies. Yet, I honestly had a hard time getting the confidence to tackle it and found myself putting off starting the assignment.
Once I finally started writing the essay, it became less uncomfortable to approach the baffling news not from a personal point of view but from a rational and study-based approach. Consequently, this experience led me to reflect on how I would deal with this crisis had I been working toward revamping a business. It made me realize that it must have been even harder for students to carry on with their programs of studies had they also been working at the same time.
In my case, my other occupation has been job searching. I started to call it an occupation because sometimes it feels like a full-time job to look for an opportunity to enter the job market, especially nowadays. It’s been interesting, to say the least, to get immersed into the practice of building customized resumes and mostly compelling cover letters that efficiently demonstrate potential employability at a time when we have been faced with many personal ups and downs. As a former Marketing student, I perceive this issue also as an integral part of starting to put our academic skills into practice by positioning ourselves and working on a professional brand, which is not an easy task for anybody, Marketing alumni or not.
During the past few months I’ve been hearing from different people about how these challenging times represent a chance for us to reinvent ourselves, whether that means accomplishing long-neglected goals or reshaping them into new ones. This mindset certainly sounds encouraging to me, yet, mainly while still studying, I was under the impression that I did not have the time or the energy to join new online courses, try different baking recipes, or take yoga classes in my living room. I was too busy with my studies and trying to wrap my head around all the rapidly changing news.
Some of my friends who have been working from home due to the pandemic have admitted to be dedicating many more hours to their jobs than they did at their offices, so, unfortunately, they can barely take time for themselves. When finals were over and I got the abundance of free time so many people had been talking about I was only starting to understand that I had graduated amidst a world health crisis with huge economic impact. I could see the tip of the iceberg in the shape of the suspension of hiring processes and a considerable drop in job postings, except for essential services. I definitely needed some time to figure out my plans from that point on.
It seems relevant to clarify that I am far from underestimating anyone who has been engaging in the activities mentioned here; it’s just a matter of reflecting upon which kind of isolation each one of us has been living in. We can all be positively or negatively triggered by different stimuli and I believe there should be no expectation of a smooth transition, let alone an expectation of higher levels of productivity than we had before. Most importantly, I believe that as we’ve been dealing with the unknown in such broad scale from a socially distanced perspective, we’ve also been paying much more attention to our own thoughts and feelings. Staying at home brings us a sometimes inconvenient reminder to enjoy the company of ourselves, regardless if we live alone or if we share a roof with others.
I tend to think the pandemic has brought up some sort of nostalgic feeling in many of us, which has led us to reflect upon what we have done with our lives so far, to think over our choices, and to get ready for the future, once the turbulence goes away. I include myself as one of those who got immersed in organizing old photos and remembering childhood memories. Sharing old pictures and spending time organizing personal items was a comforting way to bond with my parents and friends. And it served a purpose: I’ve always felt that if my surroundings at home were messy it would have a negative effect on how successful I would be in accomplishing tasks.
Just recently I read an article from the Canadian Marketing Association about the kind of ads that are resonating with people during the COVID-19 crisis and what marketers should avoid. Interestingly, among other factors, it highlights the effectiveness of ads set in or referencing the past as well as celebrating “betweenness” and featuring human connection. In addition to this, news has just come out about the relaunch of a particular ’90s fever: the Tamagotchi virtual pet—it has new features but is certainly well rooted in nostalgia.
As the social beings, with different levels of extroversion, that we are, most of us eventually feel the need to interact with more people, even it is from a screen. So it should be fair to argue that the boom in access to video-call platforms was not solely a result of a wide range of businesses moving online—it reflected how much we urge for some kind of human connection in our daily lives.
However, the connection with other people through the internet does not seem to prove itself as enough. For instance, when I lived abroad for the first time as a high-school student I remember writing an email to my friends and family at home saying how much I missed being with them and, especially, hugging them. And, yes, back then we mostly used mobile phones for calls and texts—not accessing the internet—so sitting in front of a computer and writing lengthy emails, rather than easily chatting over social media, was common practice to keep in touch with people living far away.
On the same note, I must acknowledge the fact that since I moved out from my parents’ house 10 years ago—at first to another city and later to another country—I have been truly grateful for the proximity enabled by technology, especially through video calls. It has always helped me to deal with the distance separating me from my loved ones. Although I’m fairly used to communicating with friends and family back home on the internet, I was recently deeply touched, for example, by the fact that I had the chance to watch a live streaming of a dear friend’s master’s thesis defense in Brazil. I wouldn’t have had that opportunity if things were back to normal.
That being said, it’s still tiring and energy-consuming to be in front of screens so often. Also, while these means of communication are a completely understandable consequence of physical-distancing protocols, all of a sudden it feels like it has never been so hard to rely solely on this virtual connection. I believe the reason for that is because since the pandemic struck, as an international student who deliberately chose to come to Canada, I saw myself in a position of experiencing a multitude of worries that genuinely knew no boundaries. Also, with the border closures I saw myself having to wave goodbye to my parents’ plans of coming to visit. Surely, health is of utmost importance right now, but it was inevitable to feel frustrated. My heart goes out to every international student who is far from their families, and especially those who came to Canada by themselves.
Amidst the global crisis, it’s been possible to perceive how relatable some of our problems are, and that surely has the power to bring us together in difficult times. Nonetheless, it’s important to recognize that the same crisis brings to light the abysmal conditions in which people from different places live, with enormous social and economic inequalities as well as an array of political agendas currently in place that, shamefully, still involve negligence for people’s lives. In this sense, I’ve been taking this time to practice my listening skills, to open up to hearing the perspectives of others and to become actively aware of all that is happening around us. At the same time, it has been a learning experience to keep taking care of myself and staying healthy while assimilating sickening news such as the tragic spreading of the COVID-19 crisis in Brazil and the recent sequence of racist events there and in the United States.
As I’m about to become a Camosun alumna, I’ve been reflecting on how to support other students that are pursuing their programs or planning to start. I firmly believe in the idea of learning from shared experiences and I hope to somehow be able to keep connected with the Camosun community. I knew that this graduating moment would surely be an intense transitioning experience but it turned out to be even more complex and challenging than I could have imagined. For now I can only hope that some of my thoughts shared here may help fellow students to endure the situation.
The other day I heard on a movie—or it may have been in one of the streaming shows I was binge-watching—that some people are avoiders. I happened to hear that on one of my not-so-good days, and my first reaction was to self-identify with the term “avoider” almost in a excited manner, because I had been avoiding a lot of things lately. But shortly after, I ended up realizing how quickly accepting I was of beating myself up by checking such a box as if that had always been the case. Unfortunately, I tend to think that in extreme situations some of us can easily go down a path of self-disregard way faster than we can climb a ladder of resilience. I’ve found that giving ourselves permission to celebrate small daily accomplishments and give ourselves some pats on our own back does not necessarily qualify as a characteristic of a snob or selfish personality. On the contrary, it’s a reminder of the importance of self-love and self-care.
Bringing this story to life has been the result of putting an effort to overcome some recent self-sabotaging attempts to write. The words did not come out as easily as they used to, but I’ve come to understand how writing has always been and continues to be one of the best avenues I’ve found to deal with myself, with others, and the world around me. Unfortunately, I had let myself fall into an uncomfortable path of assuming I was alone in a roller-coaster of feelings, and it took me a bit too long to open up with friends and family. Only once I was able to do so did I get to the point where I could see relatability and the empowering force within it.
May we all find our pace and paths to open up with each other in order to deal with the unknown, to build resilience, and to immerse ourselves into the possibility of mutually learning and growing together into a new normal that includes more empathy, equality, respect, and sustainability.