Finding Light in the Middle of a Storm

The pandemic has hit everyone in different ways. For some, the struggle has been emotional, physical, or mental. But for many, the hardest battle has been financial. We’ve all had to adjust—stuck inside with our significant others, children, pets, and the endless hum of daily life. With gyms closed, some of us have gained weight—sometimes from stress, sometimes from comfort food, and sometimes from the beautiful reason of carrying new life into the world. But please, I beg you, don’t name your child after Covid.

I had just started a new job when the pandemic struck. Almost immediately, we were sent home. At first, working remotely felt exciting—a little thrill of freedom in the chaos. But as weeks turned into months, the walls of my apartment seemed to close in tighter each day. I was in a new city, with no friends, no real connections, and too much silence. The anxiety crept in slowly, until it felt like it was everywhere.

Eventually, I made the decision to leave that job. The pay was lower at my new one, but my happiness mattered more than a paycheck. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s this: if your work is draining the joy from your life, don’t punish yourself by staying. Don’t get to the point where you have to swallow your tears just to get through the day. Jobs can be replaced—your peace cannot.

I know I’m lucky to have remained employed through this time, and my heart is with those still struggling to find work. Please—don’t give up. Don’t give up.

Now, I’m in a new role where every morning I wake up, get dressed, and leave the house. The act of getting into my car and driving to work feels like freedom. It’s a separation of home and work that my soul desperately needed. I’ll miss being home with my babies—Rocky and Luna—but coming back to them each evening feels like a new kind of joy. There’s nothing like the wag of a tail or Rocky’s little happy dance to remind me that the day was worth it.

In times like these, the most powerful thing we can do is choose kindness—toward ourselves and toward others.