Back in early March, shortly after Maryland announced it’s Covid-19 social distancing and stay home orders, I wrote this essay about how closing down my massage therapy practice and not being able to connect with people through touch left me feeling lost and disoriented. The shift from regularly touching people for hours at a time to not even being able to come within six feet of anyone outside of my household was a particularly difficult adjustment for me. This essay was published as part of Art in the Time Covid-19, released as an ebook back in July by San Fedele Press and American Writers Review. A portion of the proceeds for this anthology are donated to Doctors Without Borders. I highly recommend grabbing a copy if you’re interested. You can read my full essay, Losing Touch, below.
You Don't Have to Put a Positive Spin on a Pandemic
As the weeks of social distancing and our new stay-at-home lifestyle wear on, I’ve noticed a growing trend of focusing on the positives of this sudden (and for many of us traumatic) shift in our daily experiences. I understand the impulse. While it’s important to recognize and process the fear and sorrow that accompany this difficult moment and all the uncertainty it brings, maintaining some degree of mental wellness throughout this ordeal requires welcoming small comforts and making space for joy and pleasure. (If Twitter and my neighborhood’s email group are any indication, it also requires baking lots of bread.)
But it’s worth noting that not being able to find the bright side to a global pandemic isn’t some kind of failure. A lot of people are sick and many are dying. More will join them. People have lost jobs and are uncertain of how they’ll continue to provide for their families. Others have shuttered businesses that they worked hard to build and that may not recover. Some people are isolated in their homes without the social connections they relied on to remain healthy. Some are trying to work and parent at the same time, and finding themselves struggling mightily with both. It’s okay to not feel thankful for all the free time you have now that you have no way to earn a living. And it’s okay to not collapse at the end of a long day of juggling Zoom meetings and managing your kid’s online learning, and feel blessed by all this extra family time.
For years when my depression flared up, I would make a list in my head of all the good things in my life. Ostensibly this served to counter the negative spiraling that depression often creates by providing a reminder of everything I had to feel happy about. Over time, though, I began to recognize that rather than being a balm to my bad mood, it became a way to chastise myself for being depressed without a legitimate reason. How self-absorbed must I be to feel sad when I could easily name half a dozen reasons why I should be happy?
It took me a long time to learn that I didn’t need a reason to be depressed. Depression was the reason. I wasn’t depressed because I was miserable. I was miserable because I was depressed. It didn’t matter how good my life was, or how happy I should be. It doesn’t work that way. I can recognize how lucky I am, how good I have it, and still feel depressed, because I have depression. I’m entitled to that paradox.
We’re all entitled to feeling really crappy right now. No one chose a global pandemic that would trap most of us in our homes with limited outlets for stress relief, put essential workers at high risk, and leave all of us anxious and reeling as case numbers grow and our social isolation extends with no clear end date.
My business is closed. Yes, this has given me more time to write and create, but I’m worried about my clients and my finances. I have lots of extra time to spend with my son, but he desperately misses his teachers and his friends. He misses the playground and the gymnastics class he had just started. Plus I never planned on being a stay-at-home mom. My own stress management requires a certain amount of solo time and space to clear my head and work through my own emotions. That space is gone now that we are all at home all day every day, parenting and working, and trying our best and failing terribly to accommodate each other’s needs and schedules. Yes, I have more family time, and in ways that has been lovely, but I have much less time for myself and that is very, very hard.
It’s okay to feel miserable right now. Doing so might seem selfish, but it’s not. Other people are dying, you might think, but everyone you love is still healthy and safe. Thank goodness. Who are you to be miserable when people are losing their loved ones and you’re just feeling frustrated that you can’t respond to all your work emails, and entertain your toddler, cook dinner, get the dog walked, and find a moment for a bit of peace in the day? It is almost always the case in life that when you think you have it bad, someone else has it worse. People aren’t dying because you feel miserable. They are dying because there’s a pandemic. You feel miserable because there’s a pandemic.
There is a pandemic.
Not everything needs a positive spin.