Amanda Blackman’s Dark Place
Well, here we are.
I thought my column this week would be my final printed column, which I would treat accordingly and make it special. It was going to be something beautiful about something great and then conclude in the most perfect way. But again, here we are. Fully online and inside. The Sentry will not be published, but rather a fully online publication. My beautiful final printed column dashed.
But looking at all of the other aspects of my life and everyone else’s that have been impacted by COVID-19, a printed column is so minor. Students who have never taken an online class are forced to, smack in the midpoint of the semester. Professors who have never taught online are expected to seamlessly transfer classes online. So many of our friends and family members are unable to work from home and now totally unable to work.
I am at a complete loss for words at how much change one week can hold.
The thought of classes moving online felt far fetched a week ago. Not being able to leave the house seemed impossible. My favorite small businesses closing their doors was never going to happen. But again, here we are. As a person who has intense existential anxiety surrounding potential outcomes of the infinite choices we make, I can say that this isn’t one I ever would have realistically considered. It’s thrown me off my feet, and I’m still trying to figure out where I’ll land.
So I’m sorry that this column isn’t special. I’m sorry that it isn’t a beautiful retelling of some amazing and a deep lesson I’ve learned. Instead, this column this week is what I’ve wanted to use this space for: talking about how I feel, even when I don’t want to. Right now these feelings are confusing and overwhelming and unpredictable. So I guess it makes sense that the first column of a new era feels just as broken up as I do.