I’ve come to a realization: we all faced a collective challenge, and it hit us all at once.

You’ve likely heard similar stories from creatives. Initially, we tackled the lockdown with determination, completing our projects, staying active, and managing our quarantines like experts.

But that momentum lasted just for a brief period.

Then came the stark realization: the situation wasn’t over.

I need a haircut. I want to hit the gym. And really, how long can I go without a pedicure?

As cases surged, we felt guilty about our earlier frustrations. We adapted: home haircuts, homeschooling, working from home, and even intimate moments at home.

By week three, we were so restless that our partners had to literally restrain us to keep us from running out into traffic just to break the monotony.

Reality set in when we realized that we hadn’t even completed the initial wave of the pandemic. The alarming statistics indicated we were in for an extended struggle. It was genuinely frightening, and I won’t remind you of the specifics—we all remember.

New York.

Need I say more?

That shifted our humor about Covid. By then, we were out of jokes.

By summer, discussions turned toward mental health.

Even those who were thriving and receiving accolades were feeling down. We were united in our struggles, unable to express ourselves through writing as we once did. In the past, we could vent on platforms like Medium, and there would be an audience. Not only would they listen, but we would also earn from it.

The art of the pity party was effective until it wasn’t.

Familiar voices began to fade away. Where was our community? Publications sent out inquiries. Has anyone heard from so-and-so? He hasn’t posted in weeks. Are we talking about the virus or his creative spirit?

Reports trickled in that writers were isolating themselves, engaging in mundane activities to cope.

Eventually, those cries for help diminished. We understood the reality. You might have heard of a Zen state of mind, but we were experiencing a state of pandemic paralysis.

And I confess, I found myself part of that group.

I, who often boasted about the necessity of daily writing, had buried my laptop under clothes meant for donation when thrift stores reopened.

Yet, some writers continued to produce daily. I won’t name names; you know who you are. The ones who’ve made extraordinary efforts to maintain their productivity while the rest of us feel like we’re aging rapidly.

Eventually, I recognized the mistake we made. Perhaps it's just me; maybe you've mastered this third wave. You’ve been fortunate to avoid the virus, and you’re moving forward healthily and happily.

However, my challenge arose from exhausting all my energy during the first wave.

The moment the emergency siren rang, I stocked up on essentials and prepared for a couple of weeks. That was when the virus affected me—not physically, as I’ve been diligent in avoiding it, but mentally.

I exhausted my zeal early on. I quarantined effectively, training as if I were preparing for the Shelter-in-Place Olympics, aiming for a gold medal in home fitness and style.

But I forgot the fundamental principle of training: pacing.

My initial workouts carried me through the first months when, like everyone else, I believed we’d soon return to normal.

I depleted my motivation and endurance before I even started to break a sweat.

Then, during June and July, I found myself completely drained. Instead of preparing for a long run, I sprinted. No wonder I hit the wall.

If only someone had advised me to gear up for a prolonged battle. The third wave wasn’t just about the virus spikes; it also indicated that we needed to dig deep within ourselves again, finding gratitude for our health, even when everything else seemed bleak.

We had to observe the world from our windows, reminding ourselves to look but not touch, and to be okay with that.

If only someone had encouraged us to create long-term strategies rather than quick fixes for the pandemic.

Actually, many did. Experts have been warning us about potential outbreaks for some time.

It’s easy to blame the government for the pandemic's mismanagement if that suits you. However, we could also take some responsibility for our well-being and stay informed. Reading credible sources and being prepared is vital.

I’m not dismissing the government’s role in this. I know many find it simpler to follow a cleared path than to forge their own way.

I’m not assigning blame; it’s just how some operate. I didn’t read the articles either.

Perhaps had I done so, I would have devised a long-term plan instead of gearing up for a quick sprint, and I wouldn’t have faltered this summer.

I could have established a routine to keep writing daily, consistently appearing in feeds, and staying active while maintaining my optimism.

But here I am, learning at my own pace.

I’m now in my third wave of strategizing for this situation—or maybe it’s the fifty-seventh. I’ve lost track. What I do know is that I no longer anticipate an end anytime soon, and surprisingly, that brings me a sense of calm.

I will be ready for the vaccine when it becomes available, bracing for the temporary but uncomfortable side effects. I will continue to stay cautious until there’s sufficient herd immunity and assurance of long-lasting immunity. Only then will I resume my life.

The holidays in 2020 will be low-key for me, even though I cherish celebrating Christmas and New Year’s with my daughter and son-in-law. I hope we can gather in person to ring in 2022. However, I worry that the ongoing resistance to necessary measures may prevent us from achieving enough vaccination to effectively end this pandemic.

Yet, if we approach this next wave with intention, plan for the long run, embrace the present, and appreciate what we have—while letting go of the desire for instant gratification—we can navigate through this.