“Kate, I know this is a hard situation, but I’m pleading with you to cancel.”
I felt a sharp drop in the pit of my stomach as I murmured, fighting back tears, “I know I have to. Can I call you back later?” My sight started to tunnel as I fumbled through the aisles looking for my mom in the toiletries section of a Walmart.
It was just after 8:30pm last Wednesday.
“This can’t be real,” I kept repeating to myself over and over choking back tears coupled with the simultaneous urge to either throw up or scream. I typed out my cancellation for an event second shooter gig in New Orleans set for last Saturday, pressed send, and sat in silence the whole way home. My mom put her hand on my shoulder as we drove, neither uttering a word. As we walked in the house she said, “Kate, the business will come back. This is just a season.” I spent the rest of the evening letting myself grieve, get angry and cry over the losses and cancellations my business had taken in a few short days. As I got ready to finally call it a night, I flipped through Instagram one last time and saw that a dear friend had just received the news that an event her business needs had been cancelled the night before it was set to start.
My heart broke again.
I woke up earlier than usual Thursday. I wish I could say that my perspective had taken an automatic shift and that I instantaneously felt like a brighter world was ahead of me, but I still felt that pit of anxiety deep in my chest. A decent part of me still wanted to punch a wall even though I couldn’t begin to put my finger on who or what to blame. However, something changed— I no longer felt alone. I knew that at least one more person in the world knew what I was feeling— at least one person understood.
As Thursday continued, the news poured in left and right— tours, the NBA, the NCAA, schools, churches, conferences, flights— all cancelled. Many of my dearest friends make their income from music and events. A cancelled fun night out for some is rent and groceries for many. I felt so much grief and loss for my friends who are losing this industry right now, but also comradery and companionship. Society may have been grinding down, but I wasn’t alone anymore. Finally, I felt that I was in this with everyone else.
Friday, I spent most of the day working on the only remote project I have. My phone rang a little after 4— it was my client for Monday’s shoot. I told her we could postpone. She told me that she didn’t want to be the only thing holding me back from getting back to Nashville. She then opened up about worried she was for our older customers health and for her employees’ financial security as she prepared for the worst. She is one of many business owners stuck between a rock and hard place with no win-win in sight. My heart broke again as I imagined many of my friends and fellow business owners trying to cope with losses to their business and dwindling options for supporting their own families and employees. My perspective shifted again.
Yes, my business has taken a hit that I have never seen before. No, I don’t have a concrete plan for how I will support myself until this is over. But at the end of the day, I am an army of one. I don’t have employees who count on me for support. I don’t have children at home who need to be fed and tended to because who knows when or if school is going to meet again this year. I also have nearly 0 overhead as a photographer who’s work is mostly done on location. I was starting to feel more than less alone— I was realizing that I am blessed and fortunate.
Saturday I woke up, went for a walk with my mom, got packed, and started heading back to Nashville. One of my best friends, a nurse, called me on the way. For the next two hours she explained what could happen if our health system was overwhelmed. She’s waiting to be told the following words any day— “You aren’t going home at the end of your shift tonight.” She has a family at home that she will likely see very little of for the time being. She told me how she’s tried to stock her pantry in case she has to stay at the hospital: “Thank God there hasn’t been a mad dash on plantain chips like there has on toilet paper,” she joked. Even with this in front of her, she’s finding humor and humanity among the surreal. We hung up and again I was overwhelmed – this time with affection for the countless first responders, healthcare workers, doctors and nurses risking their safety everyday to keep us healthy.
Sunday, I collected my plants and a few other items from my apartment as the reality that social distancing is going to be the new normal for a while sunk in. As the day went on, my gratitude lapsed back into a frantic anxiety. My boyfriend graciously listened to me as I freaked out over not having enough of my things to comfortably wait out quarantine. We went to my place and grabbed what I wanted. As I finished transforming his living room into a modern hobbit hole — a friend that’s in the middle of a divorce texted, checking in on me. He’s been a sounding board over this past week as I’ve felt my career’s security slip through my hands, and as we talked he told me that even though his financial security and well being isn’t being threatened, he’s never felt more alone. I was speechless. No amount of financial security will make up for being alone. I wished more than anything that I could teleport him from LA to Nashville to spend the next few weeks with us. Again, I was reminded how lucky I am to have my loved ones right here with me.
And it just kept hitting me: no matter whether it’s health concerns, financial hardships, lack of time, no companionship, or something else— everyone is going through something right now. No one is alone in suffering. Yes, some will inevitably suffer more. Yes, some will feel the pains of this season longer than others. But that doesn’t change the fact that we aren’t the only ones hurting.
The silver lining to that truth is that just as we don’t get to claim suffering for only ourselves, we don’t have to be alone as we go through it either. No one should face this by themselves. I am learning that I am not an island, and that is OKAY. Even though it is painfully obvious right now in more ways than one, I have always needed help and care from other people. We all do! And whether I have acknowledged it or not, I have never been left alone in a time of need— no matter how lonely I’ve felt.
We are not alone even if we want to act like we can handle it. We need our neighbors, and they need us. I’m challenging myself to find creative ways to show up for people right now. As someone who prefers a hands-on approach to almost everything, I have felt lost looking for ways to help. But rather than sitting around and wallowing in my own fears and anxieties, I’m doing my best to get out of my comfort zone and show up for people. I’m also giving myself space and grace to let whatever emotions come up roll over me rather than burying them. If I want to cry, I’ll cry. If I want to scream, I’ll go on the patio and do that. Be kind to yourself, and watch how you can care even more for those who need it right now.