How Storytelling Helped Me Keep a Positive Attitude During 2 Months of Self-Isolation
Just like many of us, I didn't know how different my life would be three years after the pandemic in March, 2020. Back then, I was only an aspiring languages teacher with dreams of becoming something else. Dreaming of overcoming an emotionally damaging relationship. Dreaming of breaking free from my own limitations. At 29 and a life to redesign… Dreaming was the fuel that kept me going.
Little I knew that in March 2020, my dreams were about to come true. Only that I didn't know it would be while locked in a room.
Little I knew that dreaming would be my superpower during the two months I spent in self-isolation. That a strange twist of fate called Worldwide Pandemic would activate my survival instinct in the most creative way: looking for the joys of my everyday life.
How could I know in early March, 2020 that my life would be reduced to a daily column I would post on my personal blog every single day, for 55 days? A daily post about how I perceived my days and how I decided, on a daily basis, to show up to my fears and anxieties with hope, dance, sense of humour and (lots of) music.
And every day would be a different song, a mountain to climb. Every day became an opportunity to be with myself, after so many years of feeling small and lonely in a relationship. Every day was for me an adventure to tell about. After so long without knowing who I really was, or what I really wanted. Every single day I would take the chance to put together all the pieces of myself that had been broken and neglected over the years.
Without realising, I started to define my sense of direction through storytelling.
Every morning gave me the chance to discover my own world, within the four walls of my room. To cultivate the sense of wonder I thought I had lost during my adulthood. To go within, and dive deep into my wildest wishes. Every evening gave me the chance to lose the sense of rush I cultivated after years of living in hectic London, and sit for hours to contemplate the sky in depth. To figure the changing colours of the seasons and allow myself to get lost in contemplation. Without feeling questioned. Every night gave me the chance to cry openly all the hurt, the pain and the tears I hadn't allowed myself to cry for years. Every night gave me the chance to dance wild and free locked in my room. Free of judgement. Free to just be.
In my safe cocoon, every night I would peel another layer of an identity that was quickly evolving.
And every afternoon I would write and voice out my fight with the unknown the best way I possibly could: using my sense of humour. Hoping for the best. Reminding myself how precious life was.
For 55 consecutive days.
It’s been three years since I understood that I wasn’t meant to be a secondary school teacher, but a storyteller. Three years later, I am finally comfortable in a skin I dreamt of while locked in my room… and it feels damn good. I can only be grateful for discovering storytelling right before the madness, and that I can share my experience with everyone through the book I put together under the same title of my daily entries: The Quarantine Diaries.
In hindsight, I can certainly say that this book marked the beginning of my new path as a storyteller and illustrator: the caterpillar who dreamt with becoming a butterfly.
And I will be forever grateful that I could see my blessing in disguise, when everything looked pretty grim.
If you’re curious about my experience, you can head to the entries I still keep on this website (here). If you’re drawn to read it as the quirky story with illustrations I created, ‘The Quarantine Diaries’ is also available on Amazon Kindle (click here.)
I am aware that everyone lived The First Lockdown in very different ways, and I would love to know more about your experience if you’re happy to share!
