In silent rooms, where shadows speak, A voice within feels faint, yet weak. The past, a ghost that lingers near, Breeding silence, feeding fear. Yet deep inside, a whisper's cry, Yearning to break free and fly. Speak your truth, let shadows part, Find your voice and heal your heart.

I woke up to the ringer of an incoming message from my mother. “Don't worry about the outstanding tuition fees. All these financial strains will pass,” it read. She was the sole provider of the family and she, among the many working-class in Botswana, was still recovering from the cut in salaries from the previous year 2020 due to businesses failing to operate during the Covid-19 virus pandemic for safety measures. Actually, it was just a coincidence that I woke up to her message, I instinctively wake up every morning to entirely close my curtains so that I can lengthen my sleep in my university dorm room in China away from the bright lonesome day. I began following this routine religiously from the onset of the winter holiday; the beginning of 2021 new year; the beginning of yet another Covid-19 virus lockdown in my university campus as a consequence of newly surging cases in China. To my surprise, I drew the curtains open. I must have been subconsciously tired of the despondency. Well, I didn't sleep but I was immediately consumed by thoughts from the previous year's lockdown. As an international student living in the school dormitory, I spent the entire year of 2020 quarantined in the school campus and abiding by my dorm room curfew of nine pm. I might have found myself privileged compared to the majority of the world because I was mostly safe from the Covid-19 virus. Unfortunately, it was at the expense of my freedom. But I understood, everyone lost something or even worse someone to the virus. The whole world mourned. It started to feel unfair when we continued to be quarantined in school despite the nation seemingly having held the virus by its reigns after about five months. I recall taking walks about the university premise border with my friend, looking out from in at the city thriving with life. We saw families taking walks together at dawn, cars and even buses moving up and about, heard raucous noises from the street vendors against the harmonizing voices of the elderly women who sang in the streets opposite our university. The masks across everyone's faces were the only thing to give away that not everything was as it was before the pandemic. This to us felt like segregation, to say the least. Nothing could be done about it because of instructions from the government enforced to make sure that all international students were kept utmost safe. Fortunately, these restrictions loosened a bit around August when Chinese students returned to the university for offline lessons. Occasionally we were allowed to go out for a maximum of four hours. I continued to think, the brightest silver lining was that this horrible situation brought out the humane part in my fellow international student peers. Despite a dent in a lot of our allowances, no one ever lacked, we shared whatever little necessities we had.. In late January when all cities in China went into an emergency lockdown we hardly had enough time and money to buy all necessities before every shop stopped offering their services. Rumours about the lockdown only came as speculation since our city was a bit further away from Wuhan, the epicenter of the virus. Therefore, I soon found myself either making meals with ingredients given to me by my peers or cooking enough food to share with them. This was also true for them. I was most delighted by the fact that I didn't have to ask for anything, it was offered before I even had a chance to. We developed empathy for one another. Even when our university finally found a way to help us buy groceries on our behalf we continued carrying on practicing this act of generosity. I can attest that we truly followed the famous Setswana saying that can be loosely translated as, “A person's children share everything, even if it is as little as the head of a fly.” A good morning text from my boyfriend brought me back to the present. And sadly, instantly I remembered that I had to collect a package consisting of a Christmas card that had been returned to me after I tried sending it to my boyfriend who lives in an adjacent city. He could not receive my gift of endearment. His city had suddenly gone under a strict lockdown. So I immediately got up, showered and had time to meditate, another good consequence of the virus, then headed for parcels and posting shop on my campus. While walking I came to the revelation that the universe gives us a chance to grow and learn from the experience from the previous season to do better in the corresponding season. That is why I immediately decided to start the current university lockdown with a steadfast heart eager to see more goodness in my peers and learn more skills than before. Also, it might take a couple of weeks until I see my boyfriend again, a few months for my family to recover financial and it might take the world a few more years but in the moment, goodness and love conquer the vileness in the world brought about by the Covid-19 virus.

I started teaching ESL when I was eighteen years old at a private elementary and secondary school. It wasn't a decision I would have made if it wasn't for my dire need to pay rent in South America during a stay there for familial matters. Even so, after having completed the elective year, I decided that teaching was something I wanted to make into a career aside from my writing. It all stems from one source - my passion for the English language. However, I never thought for one second that teaching would be something I'd be able to pursue with my anxiety. Whenever a student's English comprehension and communicative skills would improve, I would be overwhelmed by this rewarding feeling. They were another step closer to their goal, whatever their circumstance may be, and I was closer to mine. Yet, the process was nerve-wracking for me. I would spend hours looking up material for the curriculum - no material would ever be enough for the students, as time-consuming as required for an hour class, as well-developed as my peers'. I would tremble when meeting a new student and worried about whether or not I was able to hide it from everyone. I felt alone, guilty for dreading another class in the upcoming week, loathing myself for not being happy even though, in my subconscious, I knew that I was. I just needed reassurance so I took to Google, but instead of finding a community that would support me, my emotions of paranoia intensified. Most forums were of teachers who had made the difficult decision of quitting their jobs in an effort to reach their own happiness and to find their peace of mind. Other stories told of teachers who underwent intensive therapy sessions and who were prescribed medication to help them function "normally" in the classroom. I was made vulnerable by reading these stories, my unspoken fear concretizing into my reality from the dimly lit computer screen in my room. I went into a panic, crying and immediately shutting down the computer afterward. I called my significant other as soon as I was safe under the warm confinements of my blankets and told him about how I was being forced to quit my job. His answer was simple. "If you quit your job, I will support you and help you find another one that you'll love. If you don't, I will support you in every moment of anxiety you may have." I spent the following days thinking of how to write my resignation letter to the ESL company I worked for in the evenings. I was unsuccessful in hiding my streams of nervousness from my coworkers, who can obviously sense my unease from stutters and a flushed face so it wouldn't come as a surprise to them, would it? The following week, after nights sleeping on the stress, I was numb to the worry and better able to think about my current situation. I was soon to be moving out and needed the monetary means to support myself, developing content and teaching was a trade I was familiar with, and I had already grown somewhat comfortable in the work environment I was in. I called my significant other and told him of my decision to stay and we began to have weekly at-home dates where we would sit on the bed together watching movies and comedy shows, cuddling with my dogs, and going over the material I had planned for the week, and I opened myself up to insecurities I thought too annoying and redundant to speak to him about. Gradually, I regained my confidence and my work ethic grounded into patterns that made classes easy to manage. From the early mornings I would listen to motivational speakers on YouTube, I learned how to give myself the daily affirmations I needed and soon enough, I believed them. You are stronger than your paranoia, stronger than your anxiety, or any mental incapacity that you may have. I don't use the word "may" to undermine the very real effects of this illness, but to remind everyone reading this not to make this part of their life into a monster you cannot defeat or an insurmountable mountain that you cannot conquer. The mind is a powerful thing and our bodies are quick to recognize habits. It's okay to take time for yourself and it's okay to ask others for help. Learning to construct a bridge between my anxiety and my career is one that I learned how to after months of trial and error. It's something I am still constructing now with much trial and error, but the important thing is to keep moving, especially when uncertain because either way, you will be progressing forward and answers will begin to crystallize in front of you so that you may be able to obtain equilibrium between the most important parts of your life.