There is this time during the peak of summer in Missouri, when the air is balmy and layered with sweltering humidity, you feel as if you’re inhaling glue.

To me this, this is what this virus plaguing the city feels like. Although Spring was here (my favorite season) the outside weather was warming up and people were cautiously outdoors after an unbearably long winter, but it still felt grey. It’s as if we couldn't see the sunshine. Groceries dwindled off the shelves, no one taking more than needed for now, a sadness hung in the air.

I couldn't look at anyone when I went on a run because it felt strange. I hated not going to dance classes and feeling free. I felt pinned down and confined to the square footage of my apartment. I was scared to talk to people and scared to think of more worse case scenarios.

I somehow maintained a normal schedule of running, keeping my mind busy, calling my friends and family, working on my budget, scheduling weekly appointments with my therapist, waiting on employment emails and staring at the piles of books in my room. I would look outside to see if anyone was wearing masks yet. They were.

I used to have these visions of the PNW, before I ever moved here. I would dream of this city, the highways, buildings, transit and my neighborhood filled with colorful wild flowers and running through the streets amongst them.

After I moved here, I was on the bus one day, no day in particular, just a normal day. I was staring out of the window at the Ferris wheel and then I recalled, in a flash, I had dreamt all of this before I even moved here! Sort of like a strong dejavu.

It honestly scared the s*#! out of me on an overcrowded rush hour bus.

Isn’t this the same sensation people felt, who are about to have a seizure?! I swear I read about that somewhere.

I waited. The anxiety subsided. I didn’t have a seizure. *whew!

So then, what was it supposed to all mean?

Later, I contemplated the “what if I lived here, in such a large place and a disaster of some sort would happen, so so far from my family? Nah, that would NEVER happen.” I would think. Why would it?! It’s never happened to me before.

Then this happened. It’s not exactly a tsunami, or a large scale “the big one” earthquake but it made me realize, yes something could very well happen far from family. Something out of my control. And I could die. That was it. The pill I didn’t want to swallow. I could die far away from family. Holy. Crap.

But was it worth it?

To survive, to carve out a better future for the next generations? To give them a better foothold, better than the one I had?

I remember one time, in the early days of therapy, shamelessly crying out of sheer frustration. I was probably 33. I thought all of these cool things would fall into place in my thirties, that’s what I heard. Could I not see it?

I had said I was so angry and tired. I had done what I thought was the right thing one is supposed to do in life, against the grain and against what was “safe.” I followed my intuition. I always worked more than I had to, to gain an edge. But it didn’t matter. No one ever ever had my best interest at heart, just their own. No matter how many favors I did, extra assignments I took. No matter how many shifts I covered, or continued to try to pave the way for integrity. No matter how many times I thought I would get a promotion and didn’t. No matter how many more certifications I obtained or how much I baked food for my coworkers. No matter how much I studied, came in early, stayed late or was overly positive in a toxic work environment.

I was so mad and disappointed because I had absolutely nothing to show for it all these years. That doing the right thing, working extremely hard and being a good person doesn’t pay off. Ever. What a lie I had been told. (Only mildly melodramatic, I know).

I sat there listening to my own words. It was true. I thought I would have so many more “accomplishments” and accumulated wealth by now, to be able to help my family and others. I had worked my poor body into the ground and all I ever thought was “hard work will pay off.”

What had I done wrong?

The answer was nothing.

I truly hate stressing out friends and family by always being away, losing connectedness with people I once knew, going home only once in a while and everyone looks so different. Or they have had SO MANY life events that I missed. Or seeing my nieces and nephews get older via video chat. Or people I once knew are no longer there. And giving up the “getting married and having kids” part of my youth and maybe...just maybe, never having those things.

I grieve in my own ways, about hearing bad news from afar or how to not stress about what I can’t control. I celebrate in my own ways too, birthdays and life accomplishments in a big and always exciting city, surrounded by strangers.

I hark back to think of how the earlier generations of my family must have felt to try to just survive, migrating to different places due to disease, money, death or promise of a better life.

But I’m so thankful they did.

For the betterment of the future they provided, a concept I’ll never fully understand the cost of.

Now, it is the path I must continue to carve.

It is worth it.

It is the way.