Letter From the Editor #13
By Jessica Pierotti
This is the first issue of Drawstring for which I have not written a proper piece. For the past month I have felt torn between two worlds after suddenly returning to work full-time in the service industry from over a year of being semi- to un-employed. I have been struggling to maintain the habits and routine gained from my time in isolation, the creative practice I have formed around this project, and my general mental and physical health.
At the same time as my circumstances are rapidly changing, so is daily life all around me. The widespread implementation of vaccines and the return to "normalcy," at least here in Chicago, has been both overwhelming and intoxicating. I saw live music for the first time and cried at the sensation of amplified guitar reverberating in my body. I have hugged friends, shaken new hands, and kissed on street corners. It feels so goddamn liberating, and exciting and new, but also obviously so familiar. Yet this is tinged with melancholy not only due to the lingering state of COVID globally, and how unclear our long-term safety still is, but also because of what we are leaving behind as we enter back into our old patterns of life. We have each struggled in our own unique ways over the last year, and then found ways to adapt and cope. Many of us have managed to find meaning or value within the experience, a new rhythm, a slower pace. Perhaps the time in isolation led you to better know yourself, your partner, or your family. Or maybe you were inspired by worker's movements, the Black Lives Matter movement, or the 2020 election to expand your understanding and involvement in politics and social justice. Significant personal growth during isolation can make it feel like your old clothes don't quite fit anymore upon returning to public life, and perhaps they quite literally don't. The revival of city and social life can be a strong anesthetic, tempting us away from sitting with the personal, national and global issues that were laid bare under the pressure of COVID and isolation.
For now I'm trying to be patient, letting the dust settle, and then I'll go hunting for a new equilibrium. I want to believe that I learned something about myself, about survival, through this process so that all that punishing loneliness wasn't for nothing. I hope to find a hybrid version of myself that lets the person I found in isolation live on in some way. For now, I'm finding time for naps whenever possible, and working to embrace the process and the possibilities.