As an extrovert with 30-some years of experience being an introvert, remaining apart from the world during a time of global crisis should be easy. I can keep myself busy with writing and editing, video games and movies, cooking and baking. But this time of pandemic and stay-at-home orders is different. I’m not staying home because of PTSD or undiagnosed gender dysphoria. Rather, I am home because I am medically vulnerable, and going into public means risking my health.

Thankfully, I am adaptable. That has been a strength throughout my life. Whether I was in the military, moving from state to state, or coming out as trans, I have adapted. So, here’s a look at the things adaptation has taught me during this pandemic.

The Importance of Friends

For a year, my Twitter friends were mostly met through the lens of likes, comments, and the occasional DM. And then, as social spheres shrank and the threat of going outside increased, the need to connect became pervasive. By means all their own, numbers were exchanged, and texts, iMessages, and phone calls became a thing among wonderful people I’m so happy to call my friends. In an world where six feet might as well be a mile, a phone call has renewed importance. It is socializing, and I love it.

What do we talk about? Work, sometimes. Video games, here and there. Hardships, feelings, passions, and goals come up often. We laugh a lot. There have been tears. But now these are shared experiences unfiltered through a screen and without the best guesses of autocorrect.

Where once I was content to return home, lock the door, and sequester myself behind the autoplay drone of Netflix or the colorful chaos of a video game (I’m looking at you, Final Fantasy 14), I now look forward to these texts and calls with friends.

And there are local friends, too. I see them from time to time in town, but we mostly stay connected through social media, texts, and emails. Frankly, it’s good to know new and old friendships can endure this extended period of limited contact.

Skills I Had Thought Lost

Through my friends’ encouragements, I have rekindled lost passions. After being listless and disinterested for so long, I nearly forgot the joys I had once done for a living. Years of depression had told me I was not good enough, but now, friends tell me that voice was a liar.

I’d spent three months learning 24 college credits’ worth of public affairs material in 2009, and I’d worked in public affairs until 2012. From then to 2020, those skills had gone unused. But I love working in public relations and marketing. So I was thrilled when I was asked to do contract work managing two brands and helping to build a third. I know I have a knack for talking with people. My design sensibilities usually hit the right notes. And I love writing, so drafting site or ad content is always a pleasure. But I especially love that, after a day of design and toil, I have a unique creation to give to my partners, friends, or clients. 

I also found my lost love of short fiction. I wrote my first short story in 1998. Oh, how flat the characters and ham-fisted the narratives, but some moments stuck with me. Back then, I’d written about a woman who was an agent for a shadowy intel organization. She was commanding, unfettered, and a complete and total anti-hero. I’d go on to write intermittent short stories through seven years of university studies and six years in the military. And then I turned my focus to narrative fiction in novels. I enjoy what I wrote during that time, but none of it has stuck with me. The short stories I wrote this year were my first since I’d graduated college in 2012, and I think they turned out well.  I submitted all three for publication. One was accepted, and I’m confident the other two will find homes.

Writing Reflections of Today

The stories I write now are fundamentally different from those I wrote two years ago. In that time, I have transitioned, been through other life changes, and watched as this pandemic has swept across the globe. My stories have more edge to them. They are darker, but there is also a steady pulse of hope flowing through their lines. 

Pre-pandemic, I wrote a fantasy/lite-romance manuscript. It took me eight months to world-build, write, and revise, and as I write this, I am awaiting a beta reader’s feedback. The story had conflict, friendship, and love. It was part of my transition, and it will forever be special to me.

Now, I am world-building a cyberpunk story. It is dark and oppressive by design. Set a hundred years in the future, I envision a corporate dystopia that builds from where we are today. Pandemics are part of this tech-ruled world. Social distancing is commonplace due to global access to wireless and satellite internet. There is a recurring theme of isolation.

The last short story I wrote was set in 2020, and it discussed the pandemic. My characters had found ways to remain happy despite the threat of infection. Like me, they were isolated, found joy in limited company, and embraced their work and hobbies. They were mirrors of my identity, and they helped me understand how I was coping with these changes to society and life.

Identity in a Pandemic

I had worried this continued isolation would wreak havoc on my mental health. However, the inverse happened. I am happier now than I have been in years. 

While the pandemic is certainly a crisis, it sits on one side of the scale. The other side holds my transition, my writings, and my growing list of friends. I talk and text with wonderful people every day. We support one another, and we make each day about something other than the pandemic or social issues. We don’t discuss politics. We do find reasons to laugh.

My identity has rallied around these friendships. It has been bolstered by my writing. And it is wholly wrapped up in my transition. Despite the divisions that keep people apart today, I am happy to be a friend to so many wonderful people. I am delighted to be a writer. And I am forever overjoyed to be me.

If you enjoyed this piece, please follow Alexa Rose on Twitter @RoseRhigo.