I Lived On An Island During The Pandemic

Sometimes the most complex problems require the simplest answers — and that’s okay.

The COVID-19 Pandemic hit my junior year of high school — not exactly the best timing.

This was the year I was supposed to attend prom for the first time, finally get to play on a high school lacrosse team (we had been advocating for one for years, ironically 2020 was the year we got it), take the SAT/ACT, be captain of my varsity swim team, and overall just experience life a little bit higher on the high school food chain.

However, when I got the email in Ms. Doster’s chemistry class that we would be out of school for two weeks … which later turned into two more … and then two months — my mom picked my siblings and I up and moved us to an island off of Southport, North Carolina.

I grew up on Bald Head Island: I caught my first fish there, spent many summer nights swimming in the marsh, learned how to ride a bike with no hands on Federal Road (and miserably failing once or twice along the way), learned how to surf on the small North Carolina waves — and later got my first scar there after wiping out. I’ve laughed there, cried there, all around am the woman that I am because of this place.

Bald Head Island circa 2020

May have taken this while I was practicing my biking with no hands skill…

I had never felt true isolation until I experienced the pandemic, especially on an island of about 100 residents maximum. Living on Bald Head Island is what I believe gave me the ability to be able to spend time alone with myself and be okay.

I’m not going to sit here and complain about the fact that I lived on an island and life was so hard during the pandemic … because I could’ve had it much worse. However, it definitely took some adjusting. As a social butterfly who benefits from being chronically busy, having to experience true isolation all while having little to no responsibilities was a hard contrast.

Present day, I thoroughly enjoy being alone — I owe this to my time spent on Bald Head. I like taking myself on little dates and intentionally spending time to reconnect with my inner psyche. I often ask myself “how are you really doing?” I truly believe that this skill is something that will benefit me for the rest of my life.

However, during the pandemic, I felt as if I was a small fish in a big pond for the first time, a feeling that I have later felt quite often. However, my 17-year-old brain just could not compute the amount of change that I was experiencing and how uncharted the waters around me felt. Even my parents had no idea what they were doing — and they’re my parents, they’re supposed to know everything.

When I feel as if everything around me is chaos, I find myself listening to music that would be played in a heartwarming self-made documentary about a tight-knit group of friends going on a road trip. Artists like The Lumineers, Caamp, and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. This kind of music offers the same comfortable feeling that you would get from your quirky eccentric best friend or from a new hot tea that you actually really like and doesn’t taste like farts.

This playlist gets it’s title from a night I had spent crying in my swim-team hoodie over the idea of the seemingly never-ending oblivion that was my life (okay yes I was a dramatic 17-year-old). I had cried for what felt like hours and it was a cold early-spring night in North Carolina, I was the only one on the beach for miles and happened to have looked up and saw a glimpse of the bright and bold constellations above me.

First off, I’m an unapologetic spiritual person — I owe my success and peace to how rooted I am in my faith. So, this experience fed into that aspect of my life, but I feel as if the stars hold a different meaning to everyone. They’re so elusive and mysterious, constantly flickering a sort of Morse Code right above our heads, and it’s up to us to read the message that they are communicating.

As I laid on my back, the cold and wet sand shocking my system with every breath, I realized that no matter how insane that life feels, the stars are always there right above me. This gave me an idea of at least one constant in my life at the time. I felt comfort in knowing that no matter what happens on this Earth, that will forever stay the same.

I still visit this beach every single trip I take down to Bald Head, and I look up knowing the support and comfort that something so simple as the stars gave me during such an uncertain time in my life. Sometimes, the most complex problems require the simplest answers.