I’m not one for new year’s resolutions; it’s never been for me. But, with 2020 passing me by, I would like to reflect on what happened, the pain and pleasure, of the last 12 months. The tempting thing to do is to sigh and tally off complaints, but in the interest of growth, I want to take time to look at a few things I’ve learned this year and what that means for next.

I lost. And I learned to live without

We all lost things in 2020, some more than others, some less. For me and many others, we lost possession of the futures we thought we had. Early in the year, my plan was staged out in front of me, graduate, spend the summer working, and come fall move to New York to officially start my sound design career. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel: the grand theater on the other side. All I had to do was get there. Then the pandemic hit, and when I reached the end of that tunnel, all that was left was a flickering ghost light and an empty house. The house electrician was laid off.

Suddenly I was in Boston for another year, hunting for something, anything, else, and asking, “what now?” The career that had always been in the palm of my hand snapped away like so many others, and I had to move on. It took time, months, for me to come to terms with what I’d lost. But I came to realize that it was never mine in the first place. No matter how sure it was, that future was never mine to claim—an allowance of possibility. With that realization came solace and growth. You can never lose what was never yours in the first place. And as much as we’d like to believe it, the future, no matter how sure, is never ours. It took time, but I learned to live without theater and without that future. Maybe it will come later, but for the moment, I’m content to see what I can do with my time as it is right now.

I rediscovered my individuality and my adventure

Without my career, a social life, or even a gym, I had to get a bit creative. The summer became an exploration of old passions: hours of video games, photography walks, even a good month of yoga. Despite its chilling loneliness at first, all of this free time gave me a lot of time to remember myself. It was my first true alone time in as long as I can remember, and it was exactly what I needed. I rediscovered myself and all the things that had been overshadowed by the twenty-something career grind.

Eventually, my old passions gave way to new ones. I quite obsessively took up running in April and ran my first (virtual) marathon just a week ago. In tandem, another year in Boston meant I could finally explore the city in a way I never had time to before. I fell in love with it all over again and, in the process, fell in love with adventure. Long morning runs turned into chartings of the Charles River. Photography walks became forrays into the nooks and crannies of the city. All of this now boils up inside me, ready to explore wherever I can. Even in the heart of my Semester in Spain, I wasn’t as adventurous as I am now. So much of who I am writing this I owe to what I dug up in the midst of turmoil. I take these with me out of 2020 and hopefully to a more fulfilling new year.

I learned what it means to be truly supported

Along with my new self, I also take a host of friends, family, and loved ones, new and old, into 2021 with me. Despite our isolation, so much of the last year was filled with endless support from those around me. The little families and communities I found in this pandemic can’t be overlooked. Without them, I couldn’t have made it through. Because of them, I learned what it really feels like to be supported.

New Friday night Shabbat dinners with the roommates became a welcome source of good conversation, warm challah, and learning. Creative zoom calls filled with laughter, shared art, and puppetry shows brought me back together with old friends. Even the impromptu adventures with a partner, or the quiet support of family thousands of miles away, felt like a wash of endless community. The day-to-day interaction may be lost or awkward, but it forced us to be intentional and unconditional with the way we show our love and friendship. More than anything else, this is what I hope to hold onto from 2020 and grow into this year or next, pandemic or not.

What comes next

Nothing changed between December 31st and New Years Day; it’s just a day after all. There is still a pandemic, and there is heaps of work to do in all forms, that’s for sure. Even still, change happened, at least in me, through 2020—and that’s worth reflecting on. Despite its challenges, I can only hope to make the best of what I learned this year and take my growth with me into the new year. No resolutions, but another chance at change and growth.