By Kristen G.
Just like Ryan Seacrest said on the radio this morning, never have I spent so much time at home. Homebody is definitely not a word I can use to describe myself. Since I got my first apartment 20 years ago during college, hand-me-down furniture has been a cheap way to fill space within the walls as I live outside them. What’s the point if I am never there? That being said, COVID-19 is likely challenging all of us, even the homebodies of the world.
Suddenly, this extroverted non-homebody is finding comfort and curiosity in the birds and wildlife outside her window. The song of the Cardinal and the delightful Massachusetts State Bird, the black-capped chickadee keep me company during this bizarre time of lockdown. The gray coo of the Mourning Dove is soothing and so utterly relevant.
When this started a little over six weeks ago, I took on all the Zoom calls I could, stockpiling connection like it was toilet paper. Zoom call after Zoom call, I tried to hold onto some semblance of my seemingly dying social life. And then I opened it to more! LGBT Dance lessons in Jamaica Plain where I’d typically have to drive an hour during rush hour, struggle to find parking and then risk getting a parking ticket for an expired meter? Heck yeah!
However, I quickly realized that there is something about trying to connect over a screen that is so exhausting; not sure what. Is it the odd feeling that I’m hosting a group of people in my living room without offering them tea? Or maybe the fear that I’ve been found out when I realize I wore that same sweater for the past three calls. Perhaps it’s staring at my own face for hours on end for the first time ever (awkward). Or maybe only looking at people’s faces in tiny boxes, all the while trying to dodge the discussion of COVID-19 because it’s all everyone ever talks about, because man, this thing is huge and we need to talk about it. But doesn’t all that talking of the looming virus keep you up at night?
I was listening to a Zoom call yesterday—surprised? It was a webinar about how to effectively work remotely with Zoom, Slack, and Microsoft Teams. A Zoom call about Zoom, ha! I dialed in really to just learn about Slack, because aren’t we all Zoom experts by now? Fact: the number of Zoom accounts have increased 2,000% due to COVID-19. Zoom fatigue is real. You don’t say?
The funny thing about these Zoom calls is that we can hang out with whomever we want, whenever we want, regardless of where we might be in this great big world. In these unique times, we wipe away all the extraneous material for a typical get-together: the actual location and event, what we are doing and where we are doing it. No hanging out at the bar now! There left in front of us are those we have in our life. Suddenly, we have a lot of choice of whom we might want to include in our day to day. Who is it that we go to for comfort? Who is it that really matters to you?
As much as I want to hear from those college friends I haven’t talked to in forever, or that really nice outgoing lesbian couple from the meetup, I have had to pare back to only those Zoom calls that really give back to me. Not to single out Zoom here, but let’s just say it’s like calling every soda Coke – Skype, Google Hangouts, whatever your flavor. All these Zoom calls are messing with our heads, too; nothing can replace “IRL” even if we tried. So how does one evade isolation in the age of COVID-19 when you live alone and are single? Nope, not by quickly finding that perfect fling for this new extended version of cuffing season.* Luckily, God prepared me for this day with a six-month training beforehand. Or maybe just my therapist did—either way, I’ll take it.
Let’s rewind to September 2019. I just had a large renovation finished at my condo after recently moving back in post-breakup with my ex. During those few years prior with my ex, I had my own sort of personal renovation. Not only was I coming into my new outward lesbian identity as a bisexual who appeared straight before, but I was also finally facing the harsh reality that my family has lacked in providing that critical emotional support I’ve needed to feel safe and loved in my life. The two themes are likely tied—doesn’t it help to feel safe to come out? In addition, through observing and better understanding my ex’s abuse of alcohol to cope with gender issues (she transitioned to be a woman while we were together), I came out of denial about my father’s own alcoholism. All these years, I just thought my parents were party animals and my father had a high tolerance. Not quite! There was a lot of learning on how to set boundaries with family while I sorted it all out.
So, like I said, I’m single and back at my condo, and I felt like a very different person than I was when I started dating my ex back in 2015. Now I hang out with mostly lesbians, and all of those friends do not live near me. It felt like I was just moving to this sleepy suburban town all over again. I desperately needed to find all those hidden lesbians—they have to be somewhere around here!? I joked with my therapist that I was going to hang out on the street with a sign reading “ISO lesbian friends”. Wanting some local hangouts, I reentered the local straight social groups that I was already familiar with and worked my “out” muscle amidst old and new acquaintances. Sure, there were a lot of questions about my new public identity. I looked at it as a way for me to bridge the straight/LGBT gap still prevalent in my age group. With the exception of a couple dudes, all went better than I expected.
I can tell my therapist is proud about helping me be more comfortable with uncovering my authentic self so that I can better explore my sexual identity. I know it’s her job, but I’m probably a tough nut to crack, and I am ever so grateful for having her. Sometimes I feel like she is the mother cat holding onto my little kitten neck with her mouth, dragging me out of all the wrong places I am heading for. A big part of that is also navigating me into the right places, and by that, I mean healthy relationships. She kept reminding me to pick up the phone and call a friend when I felt alone, not just text them. She emphasized spending time with people one-to-one and it’s really helped. As an extrovert, I love feeling the energy when a group of people gather. However, I now realize deep connections only come when you are open and vulnerable with each other, and that is so much easier to do when you are not in a group setting (at least it is for me!). Sure, several years of therapy have also helped me to be more open and in touch with my feelings. We tend to be more guarded in my family, and I still have some work to do. As I grow, I also learn to pick people who are better for me and my emotional needs, not just my interests.
As I look back on those six months leading up to the COVID-19 outbreak when I could get settled into my place after moving back in after a few years and ease my feelings of isolation, I know I have angels (and my therapist) looking out for me. I rely on those close friendships to get through this time more than anything else, and I know my friends also rely on me. Virtual shoulders to lean on. I feel soothed by their voice, virtual presence and whenever possible, their physical presence even if six feet away.
Kristen G. lives in the Boston area and is looking forward to soaking up the sun with lots of reading, kayaking, gardening, bicycling, and socially-distanced picnics this summer.
*usually considered fall or winter when people pair up for comfort before the holidays