Everyone wants to know what I did with all the extra time this year. What online course did I complete? What new skill did I learn? Did I master the art of choux pastry? Did I finally clear those cupboards that I had been meaning to clean? What about self-care? Did I begin each day with yoga, make salads for dinner, sort out my skincare routine, and end each day with reading a book?
The short answer is no.
The longer answer is that on most days I didn’t even try any of the above.
The real answer is that I don’t know because I haven’t really thought about it. I didn’t think about any of this during 2020 and I’m definitely not thinking about it now.
Having said that, I would be lying if I claimed that I didn’t wonder where all my time went in 2020. All that time that I would ordinarily be meeting friends or family or running errands or attending meetings/trainings was now free and wide open. But when I think about my time in 2020, there is only one question that I ask myself:
What did I spend all the extra time thinking about?
Or perhaps, more scarily, did I think – really think – at all?
Where was my mind when the hours, which were now empty of commitments, ticked past? Was I introspecting? Reprioritizing my goals? Pondering about the world around me? Did I take time to think about the magnitude of the new normal? What did it mean? How I could play my part to reduce its impact? Did I consider or reconsider my place and purpose in the world?
Was I grateful?
Was I mindful?
Did I pray?
The honest answer to this question – and its multiple sub-questions – is also, no. At least most of the time.
No doubt, that is a much more jolting realization than the fact that 4 months and 40 YouTube videos later, I still cannot French braid my hair.
This is a striking realization because it is a stark reminder that if I wasn’t studying coding and I wasn’t engaging in a process of self-awareness, introspection, and improvement, then all I really did for 10 months of the year was to scroll. Scroll through group chats on WhatsApp and photos of banana bread on Facebook; scroll through article titles on Thought Catalog and the New York Times; scroll past statistics and charts on news channels. I promise you that nothing is more distressing than realizing that even when I had time – all the time in the world actually – I had no free time at all.
At this point it is important to clarify: I was working this year alhumdulillah. And of course, even those who may not have been working at an office undoubtedly had many other responsibilities that kept them occupied. The question(s) that I have been asking myself do not in any way seek to minimize or underestimate that this year kept most people, particularly women, busier than before – since caregiving and housekeeping responsibilities increased exponentially during the lockdown.
Yet, despite that, it is true that I had more free time this year than I have ever had before. In all the years I’ve lived before 2020, I had no time to ponder and think. There was no time to feel inspired. No time to hold grief. No time to sit in wonder. And definitely, no time to reflect. Of course not. There were always places to be and people to meet and things to do and see and plan and organize. And there was more of all of that than there were hours in a day. However, for the first time this year, though the clock ticked as usual, I wasn’t rushing around wondering where the time went. This time I was just sitting in silence and, sometimes in solitude…and scrolling.
It has been said that 2020 gave us all time to truly learn about ourselves; to be real, without a calendar full of social obligations to hide behind. And no doubt, that was a scary prospect. To be still for a few moments let alone many months, was an experience that the modern world hadn’t allowed for, either on an individual or collective level. So when stillness plonked itself on my bed, uninvited yet undeniably present, I did the only thing I knew how. I hid. And since I couldn’t hide at work or at a coffee shop or a gym, I hid in my phone and TV and iPad. Any place that would save me from facing myself.
My word for 2020 should have been ‘reflection’. Not mask, not social distance, definitely not Netflix. It should have been ‘reflection’: on myself, my community, the world around me. I should have recalibrated my priorities, contemplated my behavior, deliberated upon my purpose. The year should have been spent strengthening my resolve to do what was needed of me, not just to achieve what I wanted. It should have been spent pondering upon what I intend when I wake up every morning. It should have been spent in determining to do better – because it’s always possible to do better. It should have been spent consciously striving to weed out the parts of me that need work – the arrogance and anger and envy – and watering the parts of me that need it most – empathy and compassion and awareness.
Needless to say, hindsight is rose-colored, and indulging in a series of “shoulds” when the moment has passed is a futile waste of time. That is not why I am holding onto this realization. It is not to induce guilt of what I did not do, but instead to galvanize action of what I can still do. It is easy to feel that an opportunity is lost when the digit at the end of the year changes. But just as I can still clean out my sock drawer, I can also still engage in the process of introspection. After all, cleaning my sock drawer requires a one-time effort. Self-improvement is a continuous, lifelong endeavor.
So here I remind myself that 2020 may be over, but, since I am blessed to have woken up in 2021, the opportunity that 2020 presented, is not.