As we slip into December, I can’t help but look back at the beginning of 2020—before the pandemic flipped our lives in a way none of us could have ever imagined. Back when I had normal goals and was excited to mark a new decade, to say goodbye to the repeated heartbreak that sometimes felt like it defined me.

In January 2020, I declared this to be The Year of Being in the Moment. Today that feels almost prophetic, but at the time it was nothing more than a reminder to myself to focus on what’s truly important. My friends and family, my health, the little things that bring me joy. I started the year by training for and then performing in my community’s Dancing With the Local Stars, then in early March we vacationed in Key West with our best friends. We traveled home (BY PLANE!! ON MARCH 12!!) as the country slowly came to grips with what we were facing.

Like the rest of the world, our world suddenly shrank to within the walls of our home.

We were very much living in the moment.

I learned a lot about myself during the first months of the shutdown. Most surprising: I don’t need to be around people as much as I thought I did. The majority of my friends live too far away to see on a regular basis, so I’m used to communicating digitally. I’m also fortunate to truly enjoy spending time with my husband. In normal times we rarely did anything separately, so this sudden, unending proximity felt like an extended vacation (aside from working at opposite ends of the house during the day). We walked the dog at lunch, worked out in our basement, and continued on in this blur-state that had taken over the world.

I feel like I need a huge asterisk here. We feel like were have been among the most fortunate during all this and have not taken that for granted for one second. From people losing their jobs, getting sick, becoming home-school teachers while working full-time, losing loved ones, and not knowing where their next meal will come from or how they’ll keep their home—even those who didn’t experience any of that but happen to live in a high-rise in a big city and literally couldn’t go outside—we’ve had it relatively easy.

Which of course means my high-performing anxiety insists I don’t have a right to struggle, that I should keep moving forward like always. And I did for awhile. I published my seventh novel and then… things… just… stopped. My brain had apparently reached it’s capacity for EVERYTHING and there was no forcing my way through it. (We’d also just bought a new house this summer.) I was forced to truly be in the moment because my head wouldn’t allow anything else to happen.

When my anxiety ramps up, I ask myself what truly needs to be done and what can be put off to another day. Then I narrow my focus on the must-do things until I can catch my breath. That’s pretty much how I made it through September and October.

As November approached and my writing friends chatted about NaNoWriMo, I didn’t even consider participating. I wanted to join. I wanted to crank out a first draft in a month and jump into editing. But I knew I didn’t have it in me. At the time I’m writing this post, I’ve only written 5,000 words in my new manuscript—a fraction of what I hoped to have by now. Instead I’ve read books that bring me peace, watched shows that make me happy, and prepared my house for renovations. (Okay, that one is not very zen-like but it is happening very soon!)

I’m not sure yet what word I’ll choose for 2021. I’m still having a hard time focusing much past this week.

But I’m definitely living in the moment.

I’d love to hear how you’ve coped during the past nine months. Either leave a comment or send me a private message if you’d rather.