When I was 8 years old or so, my grandmother flew in from New York City for a visit. She wasn’t able to visit often, but I remember that visit most because I was old enough to have a little bit of freedom, and Grandma’s visit put a stop to it.

I grew up in a lakefront neighborhood in a small town. Most of the kids in my neighborhood were boys, so while I did have the occasional competitive Barbie war with girl neighbors, I tended to be more of a tomboy, even on into high school. I was raised with brothers. The few other girls in my neighborhood were much like me; when we hung out, we were at the lake, riding bikes, hiking, adventuring. And then Grandma showed up.

I’m sure the visit was only for a few days, but it seemed like a year. She wanted me to do girly things, like paint our nails; and while I would play dress-up with my friends on occasion, I resented feeling like I was grounded. The one horrible moment I remember was when she told me not to ride my bike because I might break my neck. So, I stayed home with her and we made pirogi and did girl stuff. And while my brothers and I always loved it when she would make pirogi, I resented the rest.

I didn’t like it because I wanted to be out hiking or biking with my friends, heading down local trails or finding cool stuff to do down on the lake. We would pack little lunches and head off into the woods on a local trail called the Boy Scout Trail, which was really an old railroad bed that ran about a mile to a subdivision in another area of town. As long as we didn’t do anything stupid, we were free to roam and explore.

That’s always been part of my nature. For obvious reasons, being homebound through a pandemic has squelched a lot of that ability to just get out and go. Plans, vacations, get-togethers have been canceled. Things I’ve truly looked forward to, especially now that I’ve got two new knees and a much greater ability to get out and do what I want to do. I know times will change, although we may never see the “normal” we once knew, but not being able to make the plans I want has been just a bit like Grandma’s visit. Okay, then, I’ll stay home, and I’ll do what’s needed, but that doesn’t mean I like it. No, what it means is that I’m willing to do what’s necessary for my own future health and for those I love.

Being willing to do what’s needed, even when I don’t like it, was a major turning point for me when I started this journey. Back then, just like now, I knew I needed to change things. Outside forces weren’t holding me back; it was my own mental pandemic and my fear that I wouldn’t succeed, no matter how much I wanted it. Remember, I had tried once before and made great progress, only to fail, to return to my own personal quarantine, feeling trapped.

The worst part for me was the realization of how much I’d given up by trapping myself in weight; I was more prone to illness, every move took a colossal effort, the pain of movement detracted from the enjoyment of simple things. I never thought I’d be able to easily travel, walk, hike, enjoy the outdoors, camp — so I pushed them away as if they had never been part of my life. And lately, now that I’ve given myself the gift of bringing all of those things back into my life, I have had to deal with having my wings clipped, again, by something I have very little control over. After all, I could — and did — lose weight. The only thing I can do during a pandemic is do my part to not make it worse, and that means accepting those clipped wings for the time being.

I’ve worked with plenty of restrictions before, and I think one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from past mistakes is that I need to feed the part of me that needs autonomy, even if the scope is much smaller than I want. We’ve been getting outside whenever possible and walking for miles, sitting outside, grilling, enjoying the spring weather. We’ve planted a garden. I’ve potted flowers for the front of the house so I can enjoy their beauty when I’m sitting on the front porch. By necessity, we’ve made our own home vacation.

Good things can still happen, even during tough times. I may not have liked my grandmother basically grounding me, but we all loved the pirogi, and eventually, I got to ride my bike and see my friends, again. While we’ve had to push our plans down the road a bit, those times will come again. The feathers on my clipped wings will grow back. So will yours. We just need to do what’s needed and stand together.