Love in Pandemic Times Entry III: Me, Myself and I
The idea for this mini series spawned from my own curiosity of the landscape of romance during these past few months, one in which couples were forced to adapt to new forms of communications. They were kept from each other by social distancing or were brought even closer in shared quarantine spaces. Should my own life have been thrown into the pandemic mix, however, I would not be worrying about these new navigations since I’m not fostering any kind of romance during this time.
In fact, I’m newly single, and on a major dating hiatus. In lieu of personal romantic experience to channel into my writing, I’ve spent the last couple of months prodding my friends for stories of FaceTime dates, and the likewise uncharted territory of exclusively virtual, casual dating. More than once I’ve been tempted to break my hiatus to satisfy my curiosity further. After all, I’m in the middle of documenting a series on this subject; investigative reporting warrants a fine excuse. But wait! I do that every time. I intend to take a break from romance to focus on myself after a gnarly breakup and then find the first excuse to start dating again. Well I’m putting my foot down. This time, my intentions are serious.
When quarantine measures were first put in place in my city, I had not been truly single for more than a month in easily five years. Meaning that when I wasn’t in a relationship, I was actively messaging prospective relationship candidates on dating apps, or seeking casual hookups. I’m a flirt, a serial monogamist, and a hopeless romantic. Above all, I’m struggling with a recently diagnosed mood disorder that tracks an entire history of dysfunctional dating behaviours. Namely: debilitating anxiety, and a desperate fear of rejection. It seems unproductive to identify what the disorder is because I would then have to explain it to you, and that cannot be done in short form. I think it’s more interesting rather, to share how the pandemic enabled me to spend time alone for the first time in my young adult life.
Like I said, I had recently come out of a break-up when the initial quarantine measures were put down. I was actually planning to meet up with my ex-boyfriend to begin transitioning our failed relationship into a friendship when the provincial state of emergency was announced, and we decided that it was better to wait until things were calmer to meet up in person. Subsequently, I was temporarily laid off while the coffee shop I worked at went into “COVID hibernation” for two months, and I moved to the suburbs to hunker down with my mom and sister. Not only was I cut off from the usual social spheres that allowed me to meet potential partners, but my days were newly consumed by family time. I was seldom alone with my thoughts, and the feelings of boredom that often motivated me to set up a dating profile, were altogether absent. The sense of loneliness that I experienced after a breakup was also alleviated by the constant presence and support of my family, who I went on walks with during the day, and watched movies with each night after a shared dinner. I realized in quarantine with my family, that I had actually been quite lonely before, living in Toronto by myself.
Soon after the start of my prolonged stay in our suburban shelter, I began a series of therapy sessions through video chat. I decided that for the duration of therapy and likely longer, I would actively abstain from romantic scenarios in order to practice being with myself.
As of this week, I’ve been single for nearly four months. I’m also eight sessions into a ten-week therapy plan permitted by my insurance, and I’m feeling more content with myself (alone), than I have in a very long time. Of course, I’m not recovered. I foresee a long journey of therapy and self education in my future, but at least I’ve finally started down that path. No more false starts towards singledom!
In many ways, it seems strange to me that times of such pain and uncertainty in the social landscape would provide me with an opportunity to better myself. For that, I feel extremely privileged. I’ve been able to rest, spend valuable time with loved ones, and focus on my mental health without distractions. I’ve intentionally refrained from downloading dating apps on my phone so as not to tempt myself to revert to old habits. Thankfully, it’s not like there’s boys knocking on our door in the suburbs to ask me on a date. I’m quite “safe” in that sense. So if you’re wondering how my experience, very much alone, is related to love in pandemic times- I am proud to tell you that I’ve been fostering a new love for myself. It is an affection that is reserved for moments of personal rest, creative stimulation and self-care. It grows increasingly unconditional as I practice compassion and forgiveness towards myself, and extends to my ability to share love with the platonic and family relationships in my life.
Self-love is my pandemic love story.