What's five years between friends?

Here's to half a decade of interesting times

On a regular weekday afternoon sometime in 2017, I was going through the cabinets of the office kitchen looking for a mug to make tea. The most intriguing one was black and red with “St. Elmo’s” on both sides. Above the logo read “Sacred and Profane” on one side and “Spirit and Flesh” on the other. I thought at first it had something to do with the ‘80s movie St. Elmo’s Fire (the screenwriter is from Pittsburgh). Turns out, St. Elmo’s was a former bookstore that specialized in books about spirituality, religion, sexuality and gay erotica. The mug belonged to one of the writing professors and he said I could use it. It lived on my desk for the next three years, until March 12, 2020.

My old desk circa 2017

I was debating whether or not I should write about the five years anniversary of the pandemic. Surely, I covered it all five years ago, no? Turned out, I was very much NOT in a place to actually write about what happening at the time, and that makes sense. It takes time to process and it all felt too real and unknowable and overwhelming. I can see now things I couldn’t see then. Let me show you.

Thank you, Jennie for the text reminder.

Where was I in 2020? Stuck. I was bored with my job, angsty with life in general, and longed to live somewhere new. The answer to what would satisfy those desires was unclear and I didn’t know where to start. It was much easier to get caught up in the little dramas of everyday life. I was a really extroverted person and had something going on most nights of the week. My energy and attention was focused outward.

On the other hand, I need structure to survive. It takes me a while to get into a groove after a move or a new job, but once I do, routine keeps my life together, especially when it comes to mornings. I knew the exact minute I had to leave my house to make it to the bus on time, how long it took me to walk down Friendship Avenue to the bus stop where Millvale and Penn avenues meet, and I did it every single day.

So, here I am, desperate for change and yet dependent on predictability to function. Upending everything satisfied one at the expense of the other.

Before March 12, 2020, I worked on the fifth floor of the Cathedral of Learning for a little over three years. It’s infamous for looking like Hogwarts inside, though where I worked was a pretty regular office. I think it can make a big difference for morale to work in a place that’s beautiful, interesting, or welcoming. The Cathedral definitely checked a couple of those boxes, but by this point, the charm was wearing off.

What a day.

The most significant thing in this photo (and why it’s a screenshot) is the timestamp. Our schedule was 8:30 am to 5 pm, in the office, no exceptions. I got a stern reminder if I shut my computer down at 4:55 pm. So, for me to be on outbound bus at 4:32 pm might not seem like a big deal at first, but it’s a sign of how off-kilter the whole day had been and what was to come.

It was a funny trick of timing and luck that the Cathedral of Learning popped up in the emergency window that day. I took the photo because something about it felt ominous, like I would never see ol’ Cathy again, and I was right. I went back once, to help clear out the office for a renovation, but I never worked in the building again.

March 12th was a Thursday. This was spring break week, so all our student workers were gone (never saw any of them again either) and the Friday of spring break was a day off for all employees, always a university holiday. The day before, Wednesday, we had a work-from-home trial run and it’s comical to me now how much everyone was freaking out about it. At the time, it was seen as something that we might have to resort to someday but certainly not as soon as Monday.

As the day wore on and the news kept churning, it upped the anxiety on the floor. Was it dangerous to keep working so close to each other? What did the dean or the provost decide to do? Was the office going to actually close? A few faculty members and staff from other floors poked their heads in to see if we had any news on what was happening. The expectations went from “Absolutely nothing changing,” to “Things may fluctuate as the pandemic progresses in a month or so,” to “We’re figuring out a plan for employees to work on a rotating schedule.” Everything was up in the air.

Finally, word came down from on high (the dean’s office) that the office would be closed for two weeks. It was mandatory work from home for everyone. I helped a coworker throw out all the dairy in the fridge and forwarded all voice messages to our cell phones. With all the craziness of the day, my boss let us go early, which is when I caught the bus.

The things I did and didn’t bring home are really funny. I took a bunch of pens but I left some shoes behind under my desk. I had to use my own personal laptop (the very one I’m typing on right now) and later wished I had a wireless mouse. That St. Elmo’s mug got caught up in the rush and made it into the box of stuff. I figured I’d bring it back in two weeks. Two weeks turned into two more weeks, two more weeks after that, then two months, then more and more and more until I left.

Lockdown threw my brain into a tailspin. The routines that sustained me were gone. Since I could roll out of bed and get right to work, I became a teenager again. Anxiety kept me up until 2 or 3 am and I’d sleep right up to 8:15 am. I napped in the afternoons which perpetuated the late nights. I struggled to eat at normal times, pushing off breakfast until lunch time and lunch into the late afternoon. It was not great. I had the change I wanted but this isn’t quite what I was thinking of.

The hardest part was how abrupt it all was. If we staggered into working from home a couple days a week, maybe it wouldn’t felt so sudden. But I think the combination of completely upending my work routine along with my very social life— since now we were in lockdown— it really did a number on my brain. I think it did a number on a lot of our brains, if I may be honest. It took me literally months to figure how best to work from home. All the fun parts of the job were gone. No work study students, no literary events. All that was left were the parts I hated the most— expense reports. If I never have to process someone else’s expense report ‘til the day I die, I’ll have lived a good life.

I feel strange noting a positive experience to come out of that time period, especially when so many were sick or dying or essential workers outside their homes. If this is you or your loved ones, I’m holding you close. I’m not glad the pandemic happened, but I don’t know how else to put this, and this is the truth: All that time spent home alone made me face myself in a way that I don’t think I would have otherwise. I was very disconnected from who I was and what I wanted. I had to learn to be comfortable with silence and stillness. It’s obvious to me now that I needed to make some choices. I needed action. I felt like I didn’t know what I wanted or where to go but I think in reality I wanted a lot of things and I needed to just choose one and see where it lead me. I don’t think I would have gotten there until all my distractions were taken away.

My current desk.

I only saw the professor who owned the mug one more time. It was June 2021, about a month before I quit. He was walking his dog on a trail by the river and I was down that way to meet friends by the water for a birthday party. I told him I had applied to this program in Maine but even if I didn’t get in, I was going to put in my notice anyway. I think he was a little apprehensive of my plan but wished me luck. He passed away in 2023 and I never got to say goodbye.

I think there’s part of my brain that’s still waiting for the go-ahead to get back to my old desk, like a phantom pain for a place I’ve outgrown. And though things have not always been easy, I haven’t felt bored or stuck since.

March has been a beast. Honestly, the first three months of this year have been tough, and this has been the worst month of all. I’ve been trying to write for two weeks and it took until today, the very last day of this month, to actually finish. I don’t want to get into details, but I hope I’ve worked out all the bad energy for this year, though I suspect 2025 isn’t done with me yet. Wish me luck, pals.

I’ve been keeping up with #the100days project as best as I can, and happy to say that right now, I’m caught up and having fun. Current tally: 37 down, 63 to go. You can follow along here.

Here’s hoping April doesn’t make us too foolish.

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