Happier, Healthier, Stronger: 6 Ways to Adopt to New Normal

You were still thinking of a provocative opening paragraph to your essay on Americans calling their colonialism an "American Dream". Your professor turned down your request on writing a paper on the satirical purposes and powers of two novelists, as she thought that it wasn't as relevant as the shooting of eight people, six of whom were Asian women, in Atlanta last month. You planned to include Charlie Chaplin's comedies in your argument (of your suggested essay topic), but it could wait for next month (or next term). You asked your pen friend on her opinion on Marguerite Duras's attempts to compare her tempestuous teenage experiences to the changing of the flow of the Mekong River, as well as understand the motives of American soldiers teaching Japanese locals on the importance of democracy (in John Patrick's "The Teahouse of the August Moon"), when your sister hollered. She reminded you of the July 4 celebrations. She asked you if you would invite your friends to lunch. It surprised you, as you thought that there was no going back to normal. But there might be hope.

It was a different scenario last winter. You were rehearsing your Oscar-worthy performance, which you would do during a student party. Meeting new people was not on your list of preferred pastimes, and you were unable to give your two cents on a serious discussion on "October in the Chair". ("October's beard was all colors, a grove of trees in autumn, deep brown and fire orange and wine red, an untrimmed tangle across the lower half of his face. His cheeks were apple red. He looked like a friend; like someone you had known all your life.") Someone asked about the chances of finding a silver goblet in a shop filled with old clothes, knickknacks, oddments, bits and bobs, and large quantities of old paperbacks, all of which were donations. You don't know if this was that student's cue to leave the conversation (and party), but you never imagined that it would turn out to be your last night for a while. And you're craving for meeting other students more than ever. (You can't count your meeting with coursemates, professors, and tutor over Zoom during the last twelve months.) The sense of connection with a new person could be thrilling, such that you begged your best buddy to connect with his friends at a local park. (He pretended not to hear you when you yearned for a massive tri-level room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves encased in glass.) You also recalled your first moment with your club mates, where they talked about unexpected things in common with people. (It has nothing to do with a mischievous stranger in a pub, though.) Your tutor once said that in-person encounters could broaden your social, intellectual and political horizons. And she was right. (Encounters would include people you don't like, she added.) In other words, your brain lit up when young adults felt positive emotions towards someone new. If Lemuel Gulliver (or Jonathan Swift) felt the same thing, if not Robinson Crusoe ever experienced a lockdown glow-up. You rather not muse about it, as it dawns on you that through discomfort that you face your new reality. You need to adapt in order to grow.

Those who try to remain rigidly the same are most likely to suffer. Your sister hummed Noah Cyrus's "July" when you said it, which puzzled you later. (You don't know the lyrics of that bittersweet song.) If you're still trying to cling to your old habits, which you used to do before the pandemic, then it can be a sign that you must give up on them. You crave safety, but you have no control over this uncertain period. It's nice to plan your July 4 celebration, but make sure that you have other options. And you must be satisfied with your effort.

Your relationship with time has been altered. And you love it. Busyness was once a hallmark of value, but the pandemic forced you to think about the coursework. Did it get the best of you? Was your room the "dregs"? If the answer is yes, then you must be delighted about time affluence. You have the opportunity to discover different versions of yourself, which your parent frown upon. (You assured them that you don't have any mental issues.) You even read Young-adult novels, which establish a link between Greek mythology and Mayan deities. (Iztab reminded you of Hera.) It turned out that 1987 was a great year in music. (You didn't fancy "Never Gonna Give You Up", though.) And you have more time for sports and fitness. It had been surprisingly enriching.

You learned to prioritize your relationships. You learned that the absence of being with other students (and your professors and tutor) had been one of the most chilling parts of the pandemic. Friendship is strong medicine, but it can't survive on a thin diet of scant conversations. A virtual meeting is a good substitute at the moment, but you've been telling your friends about having your own patio moment (this summer). You must tell your family about it, as they might have a different plan. Certain novels taught you that the absence of connection may lead to boldness in wanting to live differently, so you try to avoid misunderstandings. And you practice kindness.

The pandemic amplifies your gratitude for small things. You don't want to talk about mortality after hearing your father's comments about the second surge (of Covid cases), as you rather reminisce sitting down to supper with your coursemates in a cafe. You took it for granted back then. You would do anything for another chance.

You don't know how to socialize anymore. Most feel the same way. Start with your family, relatives, and closest friends. Go to the edge of your comfort zone, and decide if you can make that small step. If you feel uneasy, then try something else. It will take time, so turn to yourself with compassion.

What had changed? You should have noticed some changes during the pandemic while being unaware of the others. Did it get in the way? Did it prompt you to create a Pinterest board of images? The answers could inspire you in the weeks ahead. And you would need it. (It's the most challenging time of the school year.) If you haven't adapted and changed, then it won't be too late for it.

It would take as much psychological energy to step back out into the world as it did to retreat from it. This came to mind after the observance of Easter. There's nothing wrong with looking forward to cooking barbecues for your loved ones (and friends) on July 4, but it would be safe not to get your hopes too high (after learning that the new normal requires college students to keep a distance in lecture rooms). But it's a start.