Thank you, 2020
Here is something the entire globe agrees on, for once: this year sucked. Yet, I am thankful.
2019 started as my best year yet, as an entrepreneur. After 18 years in the tech services industry, I was moving on. I found the right buyer for my software development company, and by the end of March 2019, we completed the buy-out process.
Better yet, I closed an initial funding round of $250k for my new startup! We now had both financial resources and the perfect group of shareholders for this new venture in the food-tech sector.
What an incredible feeling!
Fast-forward six months, and the writing was on the wall. The market was not ready. Our product, meal-kits, did not appeal to a large enough audience at a sustainable price point, not without considerable market education investments. We did not have that kind of money. So, by December 2019, we ran out of funds and had to shut down.
2020 found me living in a new city where I moved only a few months earlier to expand our new venture's operations. After shutting everything down, I decided to stay put for a few more months.
I just couldn’t face moving back home. I left to conquer the world; I was to return defeated, ashamed, a failure. I could not do it.
By the time the pandemic hit (mid-March), I had settled into a quite efficient routine of self-loathing and self-pity. During my morning walks with my dog, I would listen to podcasts about failing and finding motivation, and getting out of slumps. Then, I’d either desperately try to find “the next big idea” but, more often than not, binge-watch another season of something. During our evening walks, podcasts were replaced with music worthy of my exceptional mood.
Being financially set did not help at all. Not having to go hungry anytime soon meant no immediate survival threat; no preservation instincts would kick in, nothing to keep my mind off things. Great.
In less than a year, I went from an all-time high to an all-time low.
Then, the whole world stopped. It took me some time to understand the magnitude of what was happening.
That’s because, shockingly, absolutely nothing from my daily routine had changed—honestly, not a single thing. I’d see fewer and fewer people during my walks, but really, that was it. I wasn’t following the news; I wasn’t really in touch with anybody.
To be perfectly blunt, I enjoyed the empty streets. I felt like I had room to breathe. I was relieved the world stopped. I felt like I could finally catch up. The pressure of living up to expectations was, at last, waived.
By summer, I dug myself out of the hole. I started eating better, exercise more, do all the things I was supposed to so that the chemicals in my brain finally say: Ok, you’re better now.
For the next few months, I focused on building myself back up, on truthfully and without bias processing what has happened. I finally found strength in my experiences, lessons in my failures. I was ready for whatever challenge I imagined would be next.
But the story of my 2020 isn’t over. You’d think that recovering from a deep depression, coming to terms with your failures, and facing down your insecurities would be plenty to experience in a year. Sure, if this would be 2019 or 2018. But this is 2020 when everything is on steroids.
As time marches mercilessly on and we get closer to the end of this year, I started seeing the real lessons of 2020, the ones no other year could have taught me (at least, not with the same gravity):
Be grateful for your privileged life.
Depression is not something to take lightly, for sure. But understanding that affording to wallow in these feelings without risking my day-to-day survival is a privilege only a few have. Be grateful.
Don’t ever take your health for granted.
Taking care of my physical health needs to be a real priority. Sure, I worked out before, watched my weight — but it was mostly a vanity thing. It took a worldwide pandemic to make me aware of just how ignorant I have been.
Everybody’s doing their best.
This year we saw the world’s top scientists try and try again to find answers, our leaders change course in real-time, business people scramble to stay afloat without any idea of what comes next. I always thought that everybody else had it all figured it, and it was just me that didn’t measure up. Now I know better. Everybody is doing the best they can.
We are all connected in more ways than one.
Spending time with someone or being part of a social gathering is not the only way to be connected. This year has brought us all closer as a society. Today, I feel like I know that stranger I see on the street; I share my scar with him.
Life is precious. Life is fleeting.
It truly is.
Thank you, 2020.
May we never meet again.
