Two years ago today, I started working from home. Well, more precisely: two years ago today, I went back into the office after we had gotten an email the night prior suggesting we all stay home. I thought, “oh wow, if I’m going to be at my home office for the next couple of weeks, I don’t want to be stuck without a proper keyboard.”

After what was anticipated to be a short period of collective sacrifice to “flatten the curve,” we all have 2+ years’ worth of reflections on this life-changing chapter. I’ll document some in the coming days, mostly for my own sake remembering how bizarre much of this was.

For me personally, the first few weeks of “shut down” were spent vacillating between private existential fear (in the most literal sense) and – eventually – clear-headed resolve.

My dad worked in an Emergency Department amid PPE shortages, and then went home to my mom. The cases were ticking up in our area, but I waited a few days before calling to ask him how the hospital looked. Prior to that, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to get through the conversation without crying. Reports from Italian doctors kept me up at night.

My children were 4, 2, and 8 months. Their young immune systems felt impossibly fragile compared to this invisible threat – novel to our entire species. I took every step I could to mitigate risks based on the daily, shifting understanding of the virus: I wore gloves pumping gas, I scrubbed our groceries, I left packages in the garage for days to reduce surface contamination. We sent our nanny home with pay and somehow (actual definition: “in one way or another not known or designated” — because I truly could not tell you how we managed this) kept working our full-time jobs while taking care of our children who were too young to consider YouTube a babysitter.

It was during one particularly overwhelming, private moment that I had a revelation: preemptive worry is pointless. There could indeed come a time when worry would be warranted, but that time was not here yet. Preemptive sadness and anxiety would not help me now, and would also not reduce any sadness and anxiety later. Realizing that, I turned a mental corner of resolve and, perhaps, a generous dose of repression.

With my newfound philosophy, I turned my attention to the base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs & optimizing my grocery runs like the highest-stakes military mission. This, as you will soon come to appreciate, warrants its own post entirely.