Turn That Frown Upside Down
Change. I HATE change. I’ve never looked forward to it, handled it well, or sought out life-changing experiences. Change. Something I anticipated, mulled over, and couldn’t face without a set plan. That’s the thing, I suppose the life changes I plan for can be beautiful. For example, the change from high school to college helped me mature and find freedom. The anticipated change that will come from graduating college will open my eyes to living in the real world. So, maybe I do like change, but only when it happens on my terms. In these past two weeks, my life has changed a tremendous amount, and none of it was on my terms.
My series of life-altering events started on Thursday, March 5, and it had nothing to do with COVID-19… yet.
I returned from dinner and barely got one foot in the door before my older sister pulled me away from my friend. She began to tell me that Suds, our 18-year old Bichon, had a stroke. The yelps roared out of our kitchen and into my ears. The vet told us to wait one hour, and if Suds didn’t calm, then we should bring her in.
Timestamp on that conversation, 9:00 P.M. I wasn’t ready for this. This wasn’t the plan. I was all smiles 10 minutes ago, but how would I leave for Arizona after this? Easy, maybe Suds would stop barking. I finished packing. There were still barks coming from the downstairs hallway.
Timestamp, 10:45 P.M. 45 minutes more than what the vet had said. It was time to bring Suds in. I felt it, I felt the change I never planned for. The lump in my throat and the wetness in my eyes. 18 years with that dog in this house. Thank God most of my life happened at school now because, without her, I didn’t want to come back here. I said goodbye, pet her scrawny neck, and kissed wet black nose. The garage opened and the car door slammed. Just like that, 18 years was gone.
It’s okay. You’ll be in sunny, 80-degree Tucson. You get to watch your boyfriend play baseball in his last college spring tournament (you LOVE watching him play). You’ll sit by the pool, hike with your friends, and shop till you drop. It sounds like the perfect place to cope with a loss if you ask me. Well, true it was, but it also felt like running away from the pet-less household and grieving family I would eventually need to return to. However, this was my last spring break of college. This was my friend’s last spring break of college. This was my boyfriend’s last spring training trip and last baseball trip EVER. I wasn’t going to let Suds get me down. She was always the life of this house. She would have wanted me to go and have fun.
The airport doors opened, we made it through TSA, we boarded our plane and before I knew it landed in Arizona. Days of games, hiking, and sunbathing passed. A smile barely left my face that vacation. Sure a voice in the back of head said I missed Suds, and my family was a week ahead of me in getting used to a pet-free house, but I wasn’t going back home anyway… right? Wrong.
Yes, the COVID-19 (coronavirus) outbreak had hit the U.S., but worse, it hit home. Being young and ignorant, at first, I had no idea the severity of what this meant. Talk about closing the campus, canceling college and pro sports, stores closing down, and empty paper product shelves at every grocery store and Target seemed to fill all conversations. Of course, there was always talk of this virus, but I never believed the rumors until I physically read an email from Marquette University.
It stated: the school would be moving online until April 13th. All university-owned buildings (meaning my sorority house) would be closing, and we were asked NOT to return to campus after landing home from spring break. There it was again, change. Change I didn’t plan for. It’s never easy to cope with losing all the normal activities and routines you often take for granted.
For nearly the past 4 years I have lived in Milwaukee. I lived with my friends, not my parents or siblings. Also, I had unlimited access to my teachers’ offices, research facilities, and libraries. Being a senior at Marquette, you can imagine, my school life was down to a science. I had the places I always studied in, food places I always ate at, and the hang out spots I spent my weekends in. I had a life down there, and for good reasons, that life was very separate from the one I had over breaks and at home. When I left for spring break, I took comfort in knowing I had off from my stressful, and sometimes daunting, college student routine. However, because I LIVE for routines, I also took comfort in knowing I would soon get that routine life back. So, when I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I felt the panic set in.
I would be returning home to no routine, a completely different school life, no sports, no friends, no Marquette, and not a single clue what the next week would look like. Leaving Arizona, I said goodbye to baseball games that would have filled my March through May weekends, to my sorority house and the housemates inside it, to waking up and walking to class. To weekend bowling at the Annex and the free movies I just found out Varsity Theater had. I would be going home and staying home. Just one house, two parents, three siblings, and the ghost of the dog we lost just 5 hours before my plane ride to Arizona. What a place to return to, huh? So much change in such little time. But, these thoughts weren’t right. There was a lot more changing because of this virus; my school routine and home life were only a trivial part of this COVID-19 outbreak. Still, I sat there for a minute in this self-pity. Then, came another set of panic, but this time it wasn’t for me, it was for my boyfriend.
Forget about you, I thought. Your boyfriend is going to fly home tomorrow and find out that this was the last game of his last baseball season… EVER. The NCAA will cancel his season. Sure maybe he’ll get another year to play because he has a fifth year, but what about everyone else? He won’t end the season with them as he wanted, and they won’t get to end their season at all. None of them will go pro after this. God forbid, if the NCAA doesn’t grant him a fifth year, he’ll never play baseball for a crowd again.
Seeing him after I landed, I saw all I needed to see. It wasn’t about me anymore. It was about him, all my senior friends, and anyone who was losing something from this outbreak. Yes, a lost baseball season feels insensitive to complain about when people are losing loved ones, jobs, and so much more. However, seeing as it was the last baseball season some of them would ever have, I watched their hearts break that day. This was enough to bring me face to face with the realization that this outbreak was not “just another flu.”
I wanted to be the world’s shoulder to cry on, but that’s just not possible. However, I could at least be there for my boyfriend, our friends, and my family (once I got home). This is when I realized that change is all about perspective. I put on my rose-colored glasses. Being home would allow me to cope with the loss of my dog, deep clean my room, and have bonding time with all my family. People I hadn’t seen on a daily basis since my senior year of high school. In reality, my school routine didn’t even need to change that much. I could still go for my morning jog (if the weather allowed). Video classes were scheduled at regular class time, and weekends would still be used for homework and video-chatting with friends. Yes, scenery and face-to-face contact may change, but timing and routines didn’t have to change at all.
I already felt my inner storm begin to calm. Now, that my perspective changed, I was able to be a light for my overly stressed pediatrician parents, my middle school teacher sister, my bored out of their minds high school siblings, and my struggling college boyfriend and friends. Also, I had so much more internal motivation to do well, stick to my school routine (at home), and stay smiling. On the upside – memories from the kitchen table dinners (that wouldn’t be made if I was in school), the emotional closeness that was added into my relationship, and new life experiences were all gained from making the most out of this unwanted change.
No matter how small or big the changes we are experiencing right now seem, listening to someone talk about their experience with change may be all that they need to realize that it’s not as bad as they thought. So, thanks for listening to mine!
Smile big,
Stephanie Fuller
North Shore Center LLC