“You’ve lived more in this last decade of your life than most people do in their entire lifetime,” she said about a week ago as we caught up with each other’s lives. It was over a toast to the turn of the calendar. “How do you feel?”
I paused for a moment.
I genuinely don’t remember exactly what I said in response. What I do know is that as I lay down in bed on Friday night, the eve of my birthday, I was spiralling. By Saturday morning, I was in a state of self-therapy talking myself out of a sense of existential panic.
You see, I felt like I was being consumed. Like everything was crumbling before my very eyes. Like I was powerless to stop it. And I hated that feeling.
The root of this feeling? My 2020 started off with a firm vision. There was a plan in place for my work with Stills by Marcus, with Xtreme Media Solutions Africa, and more. Logical, with room for curveballs – you know, the usual stuff that life throws our way every so often. I had a plan in place to grow my photography to a whole new level, and I was genuinely excited about it. Optimism in my heart, a spring in my step, and a projection that looked healthy.
Then March arrived. And Queen Rona. And everything it’s come with.
In just 3 days, my entire pipeline crumbled.
It’s been devastating. My mind has been in a state of war with itself since.
I don’t know what the future holds. It can be an overwhelming feeling at times. Especially when most of your income depends on interacting with people.
I keep seeing stories of places where authorities are establishing ways to support their citizens during this time.
I have no idea where rent will soon come from. My landlord has been rather quiet, unlike some of the ones I’ve seen stories of on these social streets. I’m still praying for a breakthrough there.
I truly have no idea what the future looks like. Not distant. This very near future.
And it’s been tearing me apart.
I know I have people who care. I know I have family. I know I have people that love me. And I’ve seen the outpouring of love during this weekend. I recognise it. From a logical point. And I’m so deeply grateful for it.
My heart though… That feels like it needs some soothing, along with some reassurance for my mind.
My musings usually have a nice rounding off point to them, where I either leave with an open question to think about, or an upbeat thought.
I don’t have it in me at the moment.
All I have is this moment.
And the hope that tomorrow bears better.
I originally posted this on my Facebook page, and on Twitter.
I realised that a lot of us saw themselves in elements of what I shared. And with that, I was reminded: There’s power to human stories.
So here I am, asking this of you: Share yours. Your story, your altered reality. In whatever form your story has taken, for better or for worse – it is your story, your reality, your truth.
I’m putting together a series of these stories, which I’ll publish on couragestories.org.
Here’s my email address: chief@stillsbymarcus.com, with the subject line, “My new reality.”
I’ll be honest with you: I have no idea where all this will lead, but I know it’s the start of something – at minimum, recognising each other in this new space may lead to a resurgence of hope, and maybe, just maybe, some form of action.
I do hope you can join in this universal story, in your own unique way.
This Man's Mind 