This is my fourth attempt at starting this. I think I want to convince myself that I have something meaningful or important to say during this time when the world is collectively devastated. If I could offer you some sort of hope or sustenance maybe I’d feel momentarily better. But I don’t. Have anything special to offer, that is. What I’ll do instead is tell you about what I’m experiencing and discovering during this time and perhaps something will resonate. And if nothing else, let this capture the thoughts and feelings of my first (and dear god, hopefully last) pandemic.
Lesson 1: Being okay with sad endings
Five years ago I stood in the kitchen of our little home in Downers Grove, on the forest green tile floor, and learned that only a master’s degree was required to become a therapist. *Cue upbeat music that plays when someone gets all motivated or something* That realization sent me on a journey that ends next month.
It’s not ending the way I wanted it to.
COVID-19 means that when I drove to class for the last time in February and teared up at the notion that it would be the last class of graduate school, I was already grieving for what I didn’t know was coming. I’ll never have a class with my friends again.
Coronavirus means that I’m forced to meet with my clients via “telehealth” (fancy word for video chat) and we miss out on the rich experience of sharing space together. So much is lost across the screen, not to mention how utterly exhausting it is to try to transmit feeling and emotion over a camera. I do find myself feeling grateful that we are able to continue our work together, and then reality sinks in: I have to say goodbye across the screen, too.
Stay-at-home means there will be no commencement ceremony on May 16th. Of course, I walk away with a degree, which, in the end, is all that truly matters. But it’s disappointing. Heartbreaking, really. This is the culmination of a five-year endeavor that started years ago when depression set in because I understood myself and my call in life so little. I wanted to celebrate with people I love, people who have supported me along the way, people who I have met and have become dear through this process. Instead, we share in collective grief along with the high school and college seniors and master’s and doctoral students who were looking forward to the fanfare of commencement and all of the “one last times” and the exhilaration of turning in the final paper or attending the last class.
I want to look ahead to the future, but first I must mourn the present.
Lesson 2: Being okay with all of my feelings at once
It’s no secret to those closest to me that I have a lot of feels. Intense, often quickly shifting feels. This has always been a challenge for me, and my gifting in performance means I can often mask these feelings from the outside world. But, oh my coronavirus, there is nowhere to hide from the emotions in this pandemic.
The temptation to numb and check out is strong. You know what my solution to this was before? Distractions. Work, friends, errands, studying, kid activities, volunteer work, projects. To be clear, these are all good things in and of themselves, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that keeping myself busy is a way of managing having to deal with my emotions. And *SURPRISE* when you strip all of those things away, the emotions are still there, waiting. Throw in all kinds of new feelings of anxiety about sickness, sadness about changes outside of my control, heartache for the entire human population, anger at injustices that continue to rage and be silently stoked as a result of focus being elsewhere, worry about the future and when this will end. It’s like a smorgasbord of feelings and I’ve already had my fill.
I want to run and escape the bombardment of my own mind. And I can’t. So, I’ve had to sit with them and here’s what I’ve figured out:
My feelings are good.
They make me me. They remind me I’m alive, that I have the capacity for experiencing all of the best things in life along with all of the things that bring the most pain. They can be overwhelming at times, but that doesn’t mean they’re problematic. They might be more than I can manage and they might be too much for other people at times, but that does not make me too much.
My feelings are a gift. and I do not need to apologize for them. There is nothing wrong with me. I’m just a human being clumsily making my way through a crisis with the rest of the world.
And so are you.
