What day is it??

A Love Letter to Life in Lockdown.

As most of you know—whether you live in Canada or not—here in Ontario, we are still in lockdown. Yes. Yes, I know. The world is opening up all around us while we sit here, still waiting, still counting the days. I won’t even begin my long, theatrical rant about that because, trust me, we would be here for hours.

What I will say is this: I have been confined within the walls of my apartment for more than 170 days now.

170!

That is nearly half a year spent in the same space, watching the same walls, pacing the same floors, staring longingly out the window like some sort of tragic poet from the 1800’s, waiting for inspiration—or at the very least, permission to go outside without restrictions.

And let me tell you, it has been a ride. The emotional pendulum swing between highs and lows has been… intense. Some days I wake up feeling motivated, filled with gratitude for this forced pause in life, excited to finally do all the things I’ve been meaning to do.

And then there are the other days. The days where the walls feel too close, where the silence is too loud, where I start overanalyzing every choice I’ve ever made. (Like that one time in 2011 when I turned down an invitation to a random rooftop party. What if that night would have changed my life?!)

The truth is, this time has been tough. I don’t think there’s a single person who can say they haven’t struggled in some way during all of this.

As a hairstylist, I haven’t been able to work, so my new job has become keeping myself busy—and let me tell you, I have been through every phase imaginable.

The organizing phase. Martha Stewart would be proud. The baking phase. Banana bread? Mastered it. The coloring phase. Adult coloring books are underrated, let me tell you. The binge-watching phase. Netflix, Crave, Disney+—I have completed them. The online shopping phase. Hello, my name is Shaira and I am addicted to Amazon Prime.

And then, somewhere between my fiftieth online order and my twentieth TV show binge, I thought: I need to do something productive. So I started taking courses. Three to be exact. And then I thought: I should get back into fitness. And so began my running phase. Now, I hadn’t run in years. But that first run? That first breath of fresh air, the feeling of my feet hitting the pavement, the wind against my skin—it felt incredible. My legs, however, did not feel incredible the next day. They felt betrayed. But despite the soreness, I kept going. Because in between all this stillness, this lockdown, this collective exhaustion, I found myself craving movement.

I realized something during all this time to think: We take so much for granted. Where did childhood go? Somewhere along the way, we stopped playing. Life became about work, responsibilities, and to-do lists. Play was no longer a priority—it was something we had to “fit in” when we had time.

I came across a quote by Tommy Lee the other day that hit me right in the gut: “We don’t stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing.”

And isn’t that so painfully true? Where did those little kids inside of us go? The ones who had big dreams, big imaginations, big aspirations? When did life turn into a checklist of things we “should” do, instead of things that light us up? One of my biggest joys in life has always been writing. It has always been my form of play. And yet, before lockdown, I hadn’t written in almost a year.

A year!

That realization stung. Because I love writing. I love it with my whole heart. But I let the busyness of life—of work, of responsibilities, of distractions—take me away from it. And isn’t that how it goes? We spend so much time chasing things we think will make us happy, but in the process, we neglect the simple joys that already do.

This past year has thrown everything into perspective. So many lives lost. So many jobs gone. So much uncertainty, fear, and heartache. And then there’s me—sitting in my apartment, healthy, safe, and choosing to take my life for granted. Choosing to focus on what I don’t have instead of what I do.

I used to say no to so many things. Invites to dinner. Drinks with friends. Random, spontaneous nights out. And now? I would give anything for those simple moments again.

I’ve spent so much of my life focusing on what I hadn’t achieved yet—the milestones I hadn’t hit, the things I thought I “should” have by now. I’m 36, and I don’t have this. I’m almost 40, and I’m not there yet.

But after seeing so much devastation in the world, I had to check myself. Because I have so much to be grateful for. And gratitude is a choice.

Today, I was listening to Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday podcast—because let’s be real, Oprah is the queen of life advice—and she said something that stuck with me: “Walk in the direction of the potential and possibilities.” At first, I thought, Well, Oprah, that’s easier said than done right now. But then I realized—she’s right. Even in the hardest times, we have two choices: We can sit in our sadness or we can walk towards the good. We can let this moment break us, or we can let it shape us.

Because life is always teaching us something—even in the darkness. And while we may not see it now, someday we will. Someday, we will look back and realize that every twist, every challenge, every painful moment was simply leading us to the next version of ourselves. The stronger version. The wiser version. The version who chooses gratitude over lack, hope over fear, love over regret.

And maybe—just maybe—we can learn to enjoy the journey while we’re at it.

So on this day, whatever day it is (because let’s be honest, I’ve lost count), I am choosing gratitude. Grateful for where I’ve been. Grateful for where I am. Grateful for where I’m going.

And I hope—no matter where you are, no matter what you’re going through—you find something to be grateful for too.

Stay strong. We will get through this.

Peace, love & gratitude. xoxo.