I’m showing my age here, but there was a song in the late 80s by Steve Winwood that I used to dance around the house singing to, jumping up and down off the furniture, using a wooden spoon as my microphone. The prevailing lyric in that tune was “You’ve got to roll with it, baby…” and that seems to be what I’m finally doing, after staggering through the last six months wondering what the future is going to look like.

Back in early February, very few people could have predicted what was coming down the pike. If you had asked someone back then if they had their mask with them or mentioned the term “social distance” they would have looked at you like you were speaking in tongues. Back in the rosy naïveté of early 2020, I couldn’t possibly know how hard COVID-19  would hit (demolish) certain sectors, and how many small businesses would be changed forever by it. Yet, here we are.

I’m going to be frank with you. I have met with exactly one couple for wedding invitations in six months. Business isn’t just slow, it’s nonexistent. I can’t blame anyone, not even myself, since it’s fairly impossible to plan large gatherings when there is no way of knowing what the future looks like during a pandemic. We are all putting our lives on hold, essentially agreeing to put off celebrating milestones, crossing our fingers tightly and holding fast to the belief that when The Future arrives, it’s going to be bright. And hoping that we will be able to pick up somewhere near where we left off.

During this time at home, I’m fairly certain I’ve gone through most of the stages of grief. At first when things slowed down I was relieved for the break in routine–the government-mandated respite from work. But then as weeks turned into months, my emotions ran the gamut. I was angry and felt it wasn’t fair, especially to “the little guys” like me who had been fortunate enough to make a small business succeed even through the 2007-2008 recession, and who now saw no income coming in but didn’t quite meet the parameters for the small business bailout plan.

Around the same time as the anger, denial set in. I was convinced this was a small blip on the radar, a temporary setback. And I was sure we didn’t even need to wear masks at the grocery, and that this would all just blow over and life would return to normal “definitely by June or July” (which seemed so far away back in March). I was convinced it was all a non-issue, a big misunderstanding.

Then it hit me how real this actually was. I read news article after news article, and as the understanding dawned on me about how serious this truly was becoming, I began to get depressed. I felt isolated and lonely. I felt despair at not being able to make plans, see friends, or hug family members who didn’t live in our household. I developed anxiety about going to the store for groceries, worried I wouldn’t keep the right amount of distance or that I’d accidentally break some sort of new social code. I also felt like a failure in my business for not being able to make something out of nothing. And every day came like Groundhog Day, the same as the one before it.

I sat within a spectrum of discontent for weeks, not remembering what real joy and excitement felt like, but reminding myself to be grateful that my family and friends hadn’t been hit hard by the virus and that we were all staying healthy. I continue to be blessed that my husband is employed in a sector that is even more needed at the moment. Deep down, I knew we were going to be OK, so I tried to embrace the good and find comfort in small daily victories. I was trying to “roll with it,” albeit with a little less pizazz than I had when I was ten.

Then finally a couple of weeks ago, in true Annie form, I bounced back. Not all at once, but a little bit at a time. Historically, I have never been able to stay down for long, wallowing, and I have found that action has consistently been my greatest ally.

But apparently I needed a catalyst. And one day, it came in the form of my desk chair literally falling out from underneath me. A wheel broke off and dumped me straight onto the floor. So I took it as a sign to tear down the entire desk area. I threw out the desk chair and started revamping my office space into more of a living-working-meeting space. I decided now was the best time to reevaluate what was still working with my business and what hadn’t been working for some time (or was literally out of date, like the dozen or so invitation albums I threw out over the weekend).

I updated my website plugins and ran a security check. I refreshed images on social media. I started looking at part-time graphic design jobs to supplement my income and be a better use of my time. I decided to stop wallowing and find more ways to contribute, to feel relevant again. The future is still uncertain, but what can you do? Look for the good. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Figure out what matters. And just roll with it, baby.