Hey, it’s me again.

Well, hello there! It’s been an extra long minute, hasn’t it? Suffice it to say that life was real busy there for a while, and then, all of a sudden, it wasn’t.

It’s hard to know where to start, or what I even really want to say. I just know that I want to say… something.

So much has already been said about COVID-19, and as I’m not a scientist, an economist, or a healthcare provider, I don’t know that I could add anything useful to the already-overwhelming din. But I do have a lot of feelings and observations from my voice teacher/artist/human perspective, and I’m going to try to share some of them, if for no other reason than to get them out. Maybe something will resonate, maybe something will be comforting or insightful. Maybe none of it will be, but here goes.

Grief. Trauma. Anxiety. Hope. Anger. Worry. Exhaustion. Love. Confusion. Grace. Trust. Depression. Loss. Guilt. Relief. Shame. On and on and on and on.

It’s a constant swirl of emotions with seemingly no end in sight. In spite of our desperate attempts to find normalcy in the midst of this— it’s just not going to be there. Not really. And I’m not saying that to be alarmist or negative— truly, I’m not. I’m doing everything I can to keep things “normal” in my own life.

But this all happened so fast.

Rewind. Three weeks ago, everything was still business as usual. I was planning a recital that had been my baby for months, my students had competitions, festivals, and auditions looming on the horizon. It was little more than organized chaos, but that was normal. March is always like that, but it’s this massive production of art, so I love it. And then it started. First, we were instructed to avoid physical contact and sing the chorus of “Oops I Did It Again” while washing our hands. It wasn’t overly serious— it was actually kind of funny. (It seems amazing now that any of this was ever funny.) Less than a week later, events started getting cancelled or postponed. A competition that several of my students were scheduled to participate in moved to an online platform. Another one got postponed (eventually cancelled altogether). My recital got indefinitely postponed. The college where I work was going to stay open for one more week, then take an early/extended Spring Break. Within 48 hours it was just closed until further notice. We all scrambled to wrap up any business that just couldn’t wait and rearranged the rest. We moved our curriculums and teaching platforms to online video conferencing. On and on and on, we did everything we could to keep life going. To keep it “normal.” But it’s not. Are we doing our best? Absolutely. Is it the right, and necessary thing to do? Without question. Are we actually doing kind of a bang-up job, all things considered? 100%. Are we using every tool and every ounce of creativity and ingenuity at our disposal? Yep. But is any of this normal? No, no it is not.

I won’t sit here and say it’s been all bad. People and groups have come together to help each other in ways that are nothing short of awe-inspiring. Speaking as a member of the musical/arts community—as competitive as this business can sometimes be, I’ve seen generosity and no-strings-attached kindness in the last two weeks that has moved me to actual tears. Fellow musicians, music teachers, organizations, and companies are working to provide financial relief and resources, share ideas, and simply encourage one another. It’s been a great reminder that, at the end of the day, no matter how many degrees or accolades we have, the number of students we teach, where we’ve sung, or what-have-you, we’re all artists and we’re all human. We’re all here trying to use our art to make the world a better place— and the world is getting one hell of a reminder of how much it relies on art right now. Honestly, I’ve never been prouder to be a member of this community. I’ve spent a lot of time in the last decade dealing with feelings of bitterness and cynicism (which I’ve talked about here before). Many of the events of the last two weeks have gone a long way towards healing those feelings.

But on the flip side of that, it bears mentioning that when all of this is over, I don’t think it will go unnoticed which companies/groups/organizations did everything they could to help their people and which ones looked out for #1 while trying to look heroic on the outside. I don’t pretend to know everything going on behind the scenes of every company out there and I absolutely do not claim to be little-miss-perfect-who-does-everything-right (see aforementioned bitterness and cynicism). But at the end of the day, whenever we get through this, I want to look back and feel like I did everything I could to help. And it’s pretty clear so far which companies share that sentiment. And which ones maybe… don’t. And that’s all I’m going to say on that subject.

My husband and I have been very lucky through all of this so far. Without going into too much depth, neither of our main sources of income will be drastically affected by this pandemic. We are immensely thankful, but with that has come a lot of guilt. Many of our close friends and colleagues have lost multiple contracts— tens (hundreds) of thousands of dollars at the very least. Some of them have other day jobs to fall back on, or else spouses or partners who have other jobs. But still. In the span of a few weeks, thousands of contracts have been cancelled. Thousands— millions— of jobs, just gone. And while we hope that summer contracts are still happening…they really might not be. Yet, here we both are— for now— in a “safe” zone, as if something has been preparing us for this exact moment all along. But what about everyone else? Why did we get lucky? Are we lesser artists?

Let me be clear here— I am absolutely not complaining right now. Just throwing my own personal cocktail of emotions out there into the void. Thankful + confused + guilty + kind of helpless and worried. We’re doing everything we can to continue supporting the arts, our friends, small businesses and local restaurants, but the truth is that a lot of small businesses and arts companies aren’t going to survive this. The world is going to change. It has to. And I’m not getting into a political discussion here, but— it’s just a fact. We weren’t prepared for this. When the world changes after this, I hope to God it’s for the better.

As to where I am personally— it varies from moment to moment. Some days I have a lot of energy, I feel positive, and I want to talk to people and be supportive and encouraging. Other days, I feel anxious, exhausted, and it’s about all I can do to teach my students over Skype— although truthfully, teaching is one of those things that feels normal, even over Skype, so that nearly always makes me feel happier. It gives me joy to be able to be there for my students and provide some source of consistency, especially when so many other activities and events have just vanished from their lives. As confused and, sometimes, downright scared as I am as an adult, I can only imagine how much this would have rocked my world as a child. But there again, it’s further proof that, at any age, we’re all human. It really brings out the irony in that line from Olaf’s song in Frozen II: “This will all make sense when I am older.” I don’t know about you, but I’m still waiting for that particular thunderbolt.

Before I sign off, let me say one last thing. I posted a photo of my Mister Rogers coffee mug on social media earlier today, and I’m going to share the quote I highlighted here, too:

When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary.

They don’t cease to be overwhelming, upsetting, or scary. But I hope that, whether from reading any of these thoughts or not, you feel free to talk about your feelings with someone. It’s not weak or whiny. It takes courage. It’s okay to feel what you feel, and it’s okay to talk about it.

Until next time— which I promise will not be six months from now ;-)

xoxo
Laura