Like most of you, I’ve been watching “The Last Dance,” the much-anticipated ESPN docuseries about Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls, each week.
It’s such an escape from the grim realities of our day to day. Jordan’s vivid grievances against past players for long ago incidents seem so meaningless and petty against the backdrop of a global pandemic. At times, we see Jordan and the other players contradict each other’s accounts of what went down – and then producers show Jordan the footage of his rivals’ remarks about him. Are we sure this isn’t a Bravo production? Pass the popcorn.
During one of this week’s episodes, we learned that in 1993, Jordan made up a story about Washington Bullets player LaBradford Smith in an effort to motivate himself.
The legend goes that after Smith scored 37 against the Bulls, he told Jordan: “Mike, good game.” This set Jordan off, causing him to exact revenge the next night. He nearly equaled Smith’s best game ever by scoring 36 points in the first half.
But Smith never uttered those three words to Jordan. MJ just invented that narrative to create an enemy and drive himself to perform at a higher level the following day.
Over the past eight weeks, I have noticed people in my circle telling themselves stories – not with any malice, but as a coping mechanism. As Jordan demonstrated, storytelling can be an extremely useful tool. “We’ll definitely be back to normal by May 15. We have to be.” “School will absolutely resume as it usually does in August. There’s no way we will still be homeschooling at that point.” “Oh, I really needed to run into Target for that one item.” “We haven’t gone out much at all.” (Except to the store three times a week, to a friend’s house, to your office to pick up a few things, to a barbecue restaurant two hours away, to the mechanic for an oil change, on a couple of hikes, etc.)
I’ve been thinking a lot about the stories I told myself pre-Coronavirus and the freedom that comes with dispelling those myths. Stories like:
Work should always come before play. In January and February, I worked nearly every weekend. I had a lot of projects going at once, and I just kept telling myself, “It’s cold and dark out anyway. You’ll have plenty of time for fun in March and April.” Face, meet palm. (Except I can’t actually touch my face.) It seems pretty obvious that a fairly big lesson of this pandemic should be that life is short and fragile, and no one lies on their death bed wishing they had sent four more emails or done one additional load of laundry.
Vanity is worth the effort. I have gotten more and more comfortable with my makeup-free face and my hair pulled into a messy bun over these couple of months. I’d like to stay that way. I have enjoyed spending no time concerned about what I’m going to wear. I’m not saying I will turn into a complete slob, but, in the future, I would like to devote less energy to pondering whether the friend I’m about to socialize with has seen me in a particular outfit before. It doesn’t matter.
Depressive thoughts are abnormal and something to be ashamed of. Social media has been pretty refreshing lately, overall. We’ve traded posts about how epic our weekend was for posts that sincerely reach out and let others know that it’s OK to not be OK. Good for us! Can we please keep this up? This has been traumatic for everyone, to varying degrees. This new world we’ve been flung into is exhausting, infuriating, confusing, frightening, anxiety-inducing – and it’s healthy to acknowledge that. Some days, I have felt on top of the world – in control, with a grateful heart and a healthy perspective. Other days, I have been a mess. My brain has felt like it’s watching seven TV shows at once, all on full volume. We’re processing. We’re grieving. All of our feelings are valid, and we should not be afraid to acknowledge them – to ourselves and to others.
A fun weekend can’t happen completely in the confines of my own home. In truth, my husband and I have been having a pretty lovely time. I’ve done a lot of soul searching about why. Choices lead to complications. It’s hard to figure out what to do on a Saturday. Do I want to go to an art exhibit, go to the movies, go on a hike, work for clients, hang out with friends, or clean out my car? Often, when faced with choices, I become pretty paralyzed. Having fewer options really simplifies things. Plus, in some ways, I have prepared for this my whole life. I have always been pretty self-sufficient. I didn’t have parents who hovered. I have known how to go to my room and read a book for entertainment since I was 6. I am perfectly happy watching a movie alone. And my husband is a total gem. Seriously, I would post more about it on social media or share more about it with friends, but they would all want to physically hurt me. He cleans constantly. He lovingly makes craft cocktails. We are having deeper conversations on a regular basis – I guess that’s what happens when you aren’t relentlessly running out the door or spending the bulk of your time apart.
I need to be in control. I have no power over when this pandemic will be behind us. I have little effect on how the economy will perform going forward. I can’t control when Durham and North Carolina will lift its restrictions. I’m not sure when I will see my family again – it’s been five months already even though they are only three hours away. All of this has made me feel pretty powerless, but I’m embracing that. Control what you can – and make the most of the rest.
After a decade as an editor with various NC magazines, Andrea Cash launched her own creative services company, Andrea Cash Creative, in 2017. She helps small businesses and organizations in Durham and Chapel Hill with content strategy and creation, branding, PR, social media, and video and event production.
Andrea is passionate about community building, doing work that benefits the greater good and helping entrepreneurs grow their business in a purposeful way. Outside of work, Andrea sings in her cover band Penny’s Bend, plays tennis as often as she can, volunteers with Habitat for Humanity of Orange County and Book Harvest, and runs communications for grassroots progressive group FLIP NC.
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