Earlier this year, I wrote about how journaling has been a grounding force in my life — a way to process, reflect, and recognize how far I’ve come. Flipping back through old entries always reminds me of the challenges I’ve walked through, and how much growth happens quietly in the background. Naturally, that made me wonder: what will I think when I read these pages years from now?
Like so many others, my life shifted overnight when my fiancé began working from home. Suddenly, what was once a semi-long-distance relationship (me in West Palm Beach, him in Miami) turned into long afternoons of cooking together, walks around the neighborhood, and evenings that felt slower and softer than ever before. At first, I welcomed it with open arms — “goodbye” to long drives and “hello” to more time together. But as the weeks stretched on, reality set in. I missed the life we once knew: dinners with friends, impromptu trips, even the comfort of a bustling café.
Instead of clinging to nostalgia, I wanted to be honest about what this chapter has taught me. Three lessons stand out the most.
1. Privacy Is a Gift
In an age of constant sharing, it can feel like the most “authentic” thing to do is tell the world everything — every moment, every thought, every messy detail. I’ve certainly felt the pull, especially working in a space where social media is both personal and professional. But the past few months have reminded me that privacy is not only acceptable, it’s refreshing.
Yes, my fiancé and I have disagreed about which movie to watch. Yes, I’ve had my share of insecurities about the future. Yes, I’ve worn pajamas far too many days in a row. And yes, I’ve poured a glass of wine more nights than not. But I haven’t felt the need to post these moments — not because I’m hiding them, but because some things feel better kept close.
There’s power in choosing what to share and what to hold back. Authenticity doesn’t require oversharing. Sometimes it means being brave enough to keep certain chapters just for yourself.
2. Quarantine Isn’t a Productivity Contest
DAY 1: “I’ll work out daily, eat clean, read all the books on my nightstand, and maybe even learn a new skill.”
DAY 45: “Pass the pasta. Again.”
Like many of us, I entered quarantine armed with a to-do list for self-improvement. I imagined emerging stronger, fitter, wiser — maybe even with perfectly grown-out eyebrows. Instead, I found myself becoming an amateur pasta chef, ordering takeout more often than expected, and yes, discovering that my eyebrows had taken on a personality of their own.
And you know what? That’s OK.
For every day spent binge-watching sitcoms, there were others filled with long walks, salsa dancing in the kitchen, or cheering for healthcare workers from our balcony. The balance hasn’t been perfect — it’s been human.
What I’ve learned is this: quarantine isn’t a competition to see who can come out most “transformed.” It’s a season of survival, adaptation, and grace. If you’ve picked up a new hobby, wonderful. If you’ve simply made it through the day, that’s worth celebrating too.
3. Rest Can Be Revolutionary
Before this chapter, “rest” meant squeezing in one lazy Sunday — though even that often felt more like procrastination than true stillness. But as weeks at home stretched into months, I had to redefine what relaxation actually looks like.
Sometimes it’s rewatching a familiar film that feels like comfort food. Sometimes it’s revisiting a book you already know by heart. Sometimes it’s sleeping in without guilt, or doing absolutely nothing without labeling it “wasted time.”
These small acts of retreat have taught me that rest isn’t indulgent — it’s necessary. It clears the noise, restores perspective, and makes space for hope.
Finding Hope in Hardship
The other day, I drove past a food distribution site for laid-off hospitality workers. Seeing the long line of cars brought me back to the sobering reality of this time. Lives have been uprooted. Families are struggling. Dreams have been paused.
And yet, within that heaviness, there’s also resilience. Local leaders organizing meals. Neighbors helping neighbors. Strangers clapping from balconies. These reminders of community, however small, create the hope we all need.
Because while we cannot control every challenge, we can choose to show up for one another. We can keep doing what we can, however imperfect, to make sure no one feels alone in this.
Looking Ahead
This season has been far from easy. There have been days when fear, frustration, and longing for normalcy felt overwhelming. But I keep coming back to the same reminder: it’s OK to do less. It’s OK to miss the way things were. And it’s OK to hold onto hope that someday, we’ll return to gathering freely, traveling widely, and living without so much uncertainty.
Until then, I’m choosing to write it all down — the messy days, the quiet victories, the reminders to be gentle with myself. Because one day, I’ll look back on these pages and remember not just what we endured, but what we learned: that privacy is empowering, productivity doesn’t define our worth, and rest might just be the most radical act of all.