As a young girl who started school in the States, I often dreamt of the day that I’d attend my first Homecoming like the ones I’d watched in all of the popular American sitcoms and movies. Little did I know that my own version of a homecoming would happen over 20 years later as a closer-to-30-year-old during a global pandemic.
With everything that has happened in 2020, I can say with my chest that it has been hard for me to accept and deal with the personal battles I’ve faced this year – the most difficult being moving back in with my family. I cast my mind back to January pre-lockdown, where in the space of that month I emotionally juggled the shock of losing my job, mourning the loss of Kobe and Gigi Bryant and finding out I had been cast in my first acting role since deciding to pursue acting as a full-time career. Any happiness I wanted to feel for my good news was numbed by grief and anxiety. My therapist advised me to embrace all of my emotions and take solace in my safe spaces, which were my partner and our cosy flat.
With a few acting jobs in the pipeline, I took a leap of faith in registering as self-employed and I even secured a part-time freelance job for extra financial security. So when my partner and I suddenly broke up and I began to plan to move out soon after, my mental health took a turn for the worse. Not to mention that with lockdown came more loss, from my acting work to the closure of my therapy centre without a virtual alternative to see my therapist. The safe spaces I’d spent the bulk of my twenties praying for and manifesting were abruptly pulled out from under me.