The start of the year 2021 has been tumultuous. However, with the advent of vaccines, hope for getting rid of COVID-19 has risen. This past week, the number of COVID-19 deaths averaged 830 per day. A 17-percent drop. According to Healthline, the average number of daily COVID-19 vaccinations nationwide "has risen to 3 million, a new record for the sixth week straight." These are great news, but it's hard not to feel numb hearing about them. When the pandemic first broke out, I was devastated to see the number of infections rising every day. I would constantly think about my family living an ocean apart from me. My daily ritual would be to look at the death tolls for the virus on the CDC's (Center for Disease and Control) website. The notion that human lives were so easily measured and lost was heart-breaking. Life became a simulation game, where every day I woke up and performed functions I didn't think I was capable of anymore. I was stuck in America while my head was in the Middle East. I obsessively followed the news and distanced myself from anything that was emotionally distracting.

While the Black Lives Matter protests and the election were taking place, I got stuck in an encompassing bout of compassion fatigue. I tried to make myself useful, not to feel as empty as I did. Yet again, America seemed to not care about anything but itself. My friends didn't understand that my caring for the country I came from wasn't a personality trait but a desperate need that I had to quell. As horrible as it sounds, I couldn't focus on the community that I was present with. I couldn't understand that they were suffering as well.

On one of the first essays I wrote for my AP Language course, the topic was something along the lines of "if adversity leads to change/growth." I don't remember what I wrote for that particular essay, but I can tell you with a hundred percent certainty that I have become a better person. Not perfect, but better. With realizing my own capabilities, I also noticed how people stand stronger as a unit. With the ongoing pandemic, people have understood and curated a bond amongst themselves that wasn't present before.

1. More Engagement with My Community

One of my biggest flaws is being present. My mind is always where my body previously was. Compartmentalising isn't my strong suit. Therefore, a social atmosphere wherein I have to perform is horrifying to me. However, even I can admit that the unity the American people have shown throughout the pandemic, such as supporting independent businesses, is deeply impressive. Daily, I obtained notifications from my favorite vegan restaurants, sustainable shops, and malls that they were minimizing human interaction for the sake of the pandemic. I would be lying if I said that these businesses didn't influence me to be more engaged with my community. I started finding ways to help humanitarian groups around me and put volunteer hours in. I started giving more importance to digital storytelling during the pandemic and published more articles in my school newspaper. The possibilities were endless, and I couldn't get enough of feeling like I made a difference.

2. Knowing My Care Limits

Midway through the pandemic, I read Mark Manson's infamous The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Thanks to this book, I can't say that I don't give a f*ck, but I give a lesser one. Prioritizing what I care about and what I don't care about has immensely led to my life's quality development. When I receive a rude text, or some logistics don't work out as they should, I don't instantly go into an existential crisis. I sigh and roll my shoulders back and go about my day. Woke culture has also led to the notion that everyone should know everything all the time. Instead, I try to focus on 2-3 issues I am passionate about and read the news once every 2 days. Being obsessive hasn't helped me before, and it won't help me now.

3. Losing My Religion and... Then Finding It

My school was shut down the rest of my junior year, transitioning to full-on distance learning. I had a lot of time to myself, and by that, I mean too much time. I constantly fought with myself and tried to fit all my thoughts into a tiny box inside my head. It would be cliché to say that I needed God, but I did. My religious identity crisis had been ongoing all my life. Coming from Turkey, the fight between secularism and "morality" (as if they can't mutually coexist) had been on my mind basically since coming out of the womb. I have contrasting memories of my auntie forcing me to pray and my grandmother sneering at covered women. As a third-culture kid, my environment was always full of atheist families that made my parents seem awfully conservative. It suffices to say that I never had the time to discover the subject for myself. The pandemic put these concepts in perspective for me. I went full AP student mode and started annotating excerpts from the Quran. As with most texts, there are concepts I'm afraid I have to disagree with. Nevertheless, I can't disregard the emotional bond I feel towards the text. Now, I feel more at peace due to what I know I believe in.