Yes, 2020 counts

Don't give this year an asterisk.

Years from now, when people review company profits, film grosses, sports statistics and college enrollment numbers, many of these figures will be accompanied by an asterisk. This little mark will remind people that 2020 was not a typical year, and final numbers might be a bit askew. The asterisk lets them know that this year doesn’t really count. 

It’s tempting to want to give 2020 an asterisk in our personal lives. I’m not the first person to suggest that this year has been, as the kids put it, a dumpster fire. Even for those who haven’t endured sickness and loss, this has been a year of interrupted routines, cancelled plans, terrifying uncertainties, political tensions, racial divides and mounting stress. I will be thrilled to show 2020 the door. 

But while I am eager for the year to end, I’m less enthusiastic about forgetting it. While the asterisk might be a useful tool for understanding a history of profits and explaining fluctuations, it’s not ideal to dismiss a historic year and say “don’t worry; it doesn’t count.” In fact, I think that one of the worst things we could do would be to move into 2021 eager to get back to the way things were and push 2020 out of our minds. 

Here are a few reasons why. 

It’s unfair to those who’ve lost so much. 

Nearly ten months into lockdowns and closures, it’s easy to feel that the bulk of this year has been spent doing nothing. For many, the days have been spent watching Netflix; scrolling and arguing on social media; or jumping onto Zoom meetings and crunching to finish work projects while also ensuring that our kids are dressed, fed and taught. It’s easy to look back and think that all that empty work is just dismissible, a detour from our plans and routines that, in the long run, adds up to nothing. I understand why people want to wave it away, because so much of this year just feels like it was empty time. 

But as of this writing, more than 300,000 Americans have died from COVID-19, and that number is only going to increase. They leave behind spouses, children and friends who will look back on this year as one of unbearable sadness and loss. There will be empty seats at family dinners for years to come. For many who’ve recovered, memories of long, terrifying hospital stays will cause anxiety and depression. Many of the sick will not fully shake COVID-19 and will instead continue to endure heart and lung issues caused by the illness. And then there are the millions who have spent the year searching for new jobs, scrounging to make ends meet and trying to weather the pandemic’s impact on the economy. 

Many of us have had the luxury and privilege of simply being bored in 2020. But many more have suffered loss that they feel deeply and that they will continue dealing with into the new year. To say this year doesn’t count belittles that loss and suffering. 

It overlooks the positives. 

I was talking to someone recently who beamed that he had fallen in love in 2020. Somehow, in the stress of the pandemic and in spite of the disruptions to social lives, he’d managed to meet the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. “All in all,” he said, “it’s been a pretty good year for me.” 

Friends, I’d caution against saying this. 

There are very few ways in which this has been a “good year” for anyone. Even if we’ve been relatively unscathed personally by the pandemic, it’s still a year in which 300,000 of our fellow citizens have died, millions have gotten severely ill, and many more have either mourned losses or suffered financial setbacks. It’s been a year in which long-existing racial inequities have been brought to the forefront, and it was another year in which families and friends divided over politics. It’s been a hard year. To say it was “good” risks coming off insensitive and self-centered. 

And yet, just as I’d caution against saying “it was a good year,” I’d also caution against overlooking the positive developments. I’m confident that even in the midst of the hardship, we can all look back and find glimmers of joy scattered throughout the trash heap that was 2020. Perhaps it was the chance to spend more time with family (even if you didn’t have a choice). Maybe you spent more time outdoors. Maybe the change in routine allowed you to finally read the book you’ve been putting off; for those of you who did have extra time on your hands, maybe you actually started writing that book you’ve been putting off. Perhaps being separated from community simply made you appreciate it more, and you’ve found new perspective and meaning in your friendships. 

Even though this year has been the most stressful and difficult of our lives — and I say this fully recognizing my privilege as someone who was able to work from home, had my employment remain stable and has not yet gotten sick — there were things to be grateful for. I finished grad school. My wife started a new job. We’ve had more time together as a family. I’m healthier than I was a year ago. These things can’t overcome the very real sense of sadness and loss that so many have faced, but neither should I dismiss them or be ungrateful for them. 

But to wave away this year and say the bad doesn’t count means the good things don’t count, either. Instead, I am aware of all the world has lost this year, and I mourn it. And I’m also aware of the blessings that we’ve received, and I’m grateful for them. They count. They’re real. They were a part of my life. 

It prevents us from changing. 

There’s a sense in which waving away 2020 and saying “oh this year doesn’t count” speaks to our desire to return to normal. In our minds, we often envision snipping this year out of the timeline and returning to our 2019 ways of living. That’s what “normal” means to so many of us, an elimination of the restrictions we have in place and a return to our recent past. 

But if the best we do after this pandemic is return to the way things were, we’ve wasted this entire year. 

In 2020, the problems we faced were exacerbated by years of ignoring deep-seated flaws in our nation. From our desire to protect the economy over human life to the way we’ve thought ourselves untouchable in the face of pandemic or disaster, to the ingrained racism in our police departments and the constant manipulation of our reality by social media companies and the reality that our democracy is just one bully away from overthrow, the United States’ foundations have been rocked this year. COVID-19 didn’t start here, but our flippancy toward science and poor pandemic preparation were responsible for it raging. And Donald Trump isn’t a political genius, but he located the vulnerabilities in our government and leveraged the divisions that had been forming in the populace for years to try to bring it all down. If there were a theme for our nation in 2020, it would be “well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” 

As lockdowns continued, many of us found the situation revelatory, and not always in the best ways. A change in our office environments revealed an unhealthy relationship with work and how a change in routine might be better for our productivity, our creativity, our health and our family. Taken out of my routine and left in an unpredictable long-term situation, I found myself chastened as I discovered my own control issues and confronted my own struggles with anxiety, depression and anger. Many couples found that being in close quarters for so long revealed cracks in their foundations; for some people, extended time with kids revealed just how little quality time they had in “normal time,” when so many hours are sacrificed for long commutes and external commitments. 

The best thing that could happen in 2021 — aside from mass vaccine deployment and the eradication of COVID-19 — is that we wouldn’t return to normal but rather create new routines and rhythms to help us avoid falling back into those toxic behaviors. This year has been an opportunity to re-examine our priorities and the philosophies that guide us, and to dismiss it as a lost year would prevent us from learning lessons that could make our families and ourselves healthier. To return to the way things were is to set ourselves up for failure again; examining how we got here and making changes can help us emerge stronger and healthier than we were. And we can’t do that if this year doesn’t count.