I have been more lucky than most through this pandemic. I was able to continue to do my job in the same way, and in the same place. I have lived a small life for many years. I prefer to spend my free time hanging out with my dogs, alone in my workroom refining my hobbies, or spend an occasional evening with a few trusted friends. The restrictions imposed to keep us all safe fell right in line with my very narrow lifestyle. And for months I cruised along, avoiding crowds, keeping to myself at every turn, shopping during off peak hours because the times I chose have been when others are home. Chose being the operative word. About 8 months down this long road, I started to realize that it wasn’t my choice. Around Thanksgiving, that regardless of the choice I had made in March, I realized that I was no longer in charge of my own life. Certainly I could choose to disregard any or all of the restrictions/behaviors, but that would mean I wouldn’t be able to live the life I wanted. I couldn’t go to work, couldn’t do any of the necessary caretaking a basic life requires. Not really a choice. For the most part, I try and maintain a positive attitude. Or at least an attitude that there is something that can be done to alleviate the weight of any situation. Or to lower the intensity. Or to raise the importance. Believing that there is always something that can be done is the essence of positivity. But there was nothing to be done with the pandemic and the surrounding issues. The pandemic was striping me of myself. Ignoring the advice of everyone and going maskless was as much against my moral code as walking up to someone and slapping them was. Not only was I losing myself, but I was becoming as faceless as everyone I saw. I am sure I now work with people who would not know me if they saw me in my front yard. Just as I saw a picture of a co-worker and didn’t recognize her until I covered the lower half of her face. The pandemic has cost us so much more than jobs. And I don’t mean the over 500,000 deaths, though that number is so far past tragic that there is no word for it. I mean the loss of time with loved ones, or the moments in life that cant be shared because the moment has past. I mean the loss of ourselves. Of who we were when this all began. How many lives were completely derailed by this? How many minds were twisted and retwisted in trying to find the new way to live? How many joys lost? Never found? We are all waiting for a return to normal. But what is normal now? When we finally are able to sit together again unmasked, will we see each with the same eyes? Or has a year in emotional darkness forever changed our view of life and the world we live in?