Sorry for the massive delay in posting anything on this site during the COVID-19 crisis. It turns out that a.) the months worth of grief posts I had ready to go do not feel tonally right in this era of a pandemic, b.) I was way more dependent on the five hours a week my daughter attends preschool for getting my own work done than I realized, and c.) I’m still figuring out how best to express myself and serve my community during this time.
Here’s what I know: I am safe and healthy. My daughter is receiving a wonderful online preschool education. My husband is able to work from home during this time. I am not able to see my mom in person and that is very difficult; other than that there is very little about my personal life that has changed either significantly or detrimentally. I’m an introvert who has worked from home or stayed at home with my daughter for years upon years. I am a person who rarely gets out of my house in normal circumstances. And I am a person who is incredibly accustomed to spending long bouts of time alone or with my small family.
Here’s what I also know: I am lucky. I am privileged. I have so many friends who are now out of work. Others with fragile health conditions who are terrified. I know people who think they may currently have the virus but are unable to get tested and I know people whose family members likely died from it but were also unable to get tested. I know nurses pleading for medical supplies and I know extroverts who feel like they’re losing a sense of sanity, security, or identity in quarantine. I know people are struggling. I know people are dying.
I know that this is grief, what we’re all experiencing right now. I know that fresh grief brings up past grief. I know that many people are feeling triggered right now while thinking about their dead people, perhaps especially if they lost someone in either a medical setting or suddenly (or both).
And I know that for those who are grieving a new death, one that occurred in the past month or so, all the rules of grief have changed. Unable to say goodbye to a loved one because of isolation, forced to say goodbye via technology, unable to attend — or in some cases even have — a memorial service: This is the new normal for many grieving people right now.
Grief is a response to change and every aspect of our society and world is changing right now. If you feel like you’re dealing with loss upon loss right now, you are not alone.
And one last thing I know is this. During times of crisis, people will manage and cope in myriad ways. There will always be those who respond to a crisis with unshakable positivity. People will say that now is the time for gratitude, perspective, humor and optimism. And while I think that these are all lovely attributes in manageable doses, I also think it’s easy to get burnt out with the super-positivity, which can seem downright tone-deaf, during times of turmoil.
Do you know what I hated more than anything when my dad was sick with cancer? Being told to stay positive. I was watching the person I love most fade away from this world and over and over again, I was told that it was important — hell, it was my responsibility, my obligation — to stay positive, to find the humor, to keep smiling. Do you know what I also hated? Hearing other people tell HIM to stay positive, as if this were his duty on top of fighting a deadly disease. In fact, it was not his duty. It was not mine, either.
So let me just say right now, because maybe somebody needs to hear it right now: You do not have to be positive if that is not how you feel. You do not have to seek out the sunsets and rainbows just to prove there is still beauty in this world. There IS still beauty in this world, but you are also allowed to feel scared and overwhelmed and depressed and disheartened. When going through something sad or hard or scary, you are not required to smile through it in order to make your experience more palatable for others.
It’s okay if you’re able to look at your personal situation and see that you are safe and healthy and employed and contextualize that to mean that you have nothing to fear or grieve. But it is also okay if you are safe and healthy and employed and you still feel sad and scared as hell for all those who aren’t, because this moment is so much bigger than just our own little families right now. And it is okay if you are NOT safe or healthy or employed and you need to grieve that without someone telling you to look for the good in all of this.
This is something that often happens in grief: We’re told to look for the good. The silver linings. The lessons. The reasons to be grateful in spite of what’s happening or what’s happened. I think it’s lovely and sweet and well-intentioned and I also think it can be extremely unhelpful and often minimizing at a time when a little empathy would go a long way.
However you’re feeling in all of this — paralyzed, jumping up and down to look at rainbows, or anything in between — is okay.
This is grief.
In grief and with love,
KrissyMick
Photo Credits, All: Kristen Forbes