As we get deeper and deeper into this pandemic, the waves of emotion are crashing harder. At the beginning, we were all caught up in the fast-paced novelty, focused on how dramatically life had changed in a split second; how bored we were staying inside, yet somehow still able to make light of it by laughing at toilet paper memes and finding some solace in knowing the whole world was in it together. But now, I actually miss that part.
Adjusting to the “new-for-now normal” was subtly exhausting, but I was able to get through it because I thought we could be out of the thick of it by summer. Instead, I’m feeling like that initial exhaustion was only laying the groundwork for other things to barge their way in and push me down farther—and like not only are we not “all in this together,” but there are people out there, some with power, who are actively making sure that we stay down for longer.
We’re witnessing something within ourselves that many have likely not experienced before, at least not on this scale: Without the distractions of how life used to be, we have more time to sit with ourselves and think, facing our demons more intensely than ever. We’re forced to feel everything, notice our thought patterns, and come to terms with the parts of ourselves that we don’t like.
On top of that, although what we think of as “normal life” has dissipated for now, real life does not back down under a pandemic.
We’re still grieving the loss of loved ones, and of the hundreds of thousands of those we’ll never meet. Relationships still have their battles, and loneliness still plagues us. Work still demands our dwindling energy, whether to keep jobs that are on the brink or to find new ones. And not only is this all happening under the umbrella of a global health crisis, but that same crisis is fueling the fire, making our problems worse, and also making it so that we can’t even hug each other to make it better.
Anxiety will also not back down. It takes every opportunity it gets to creep in, feeding off the uncertainty and the debilitating paranoia over our health. I know that everyone has been saying that “certainty has always been an illusion,” that we never really knew what was coming. And that is true—but I also think that the degree of certainty about what the next week of your life might hold used to be a little higher than it is now. At least the illusion was somewhat accurate on a day-to-day basis, and it was enough to depend on in order to not work yourself into an existential crisis every three days.
And in the throes of emotional exhaustion, we’re watching one business after another shut its doors for good, creating an intense sadness for loss of livelihoods and traditions, and further making us wonder what the world we’ll return to will look like.
Nobody knows the answer to that question. But I do have a hope.
These relentless emotions and anxieties are making us incredibly raw. But in the depths of vulnerability is where we can find within ourselves the most fundamental characteristics of being human. As Brené Brown has so beautifully said,
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”
I see evidence of this trickling in in a number of ways. I wholeheartedly believe that the anti-racist movement has been ignited and fervently supported globally by voices who have never felt they needed to step in before because people have had so much time this year to think about what truly matters in life, and to cultivate stronger empathy for those with lived experiences different than their own.
In the same vein, I see more people and mainstream media supporting the climate movement and learning how to ensure that our planet and the people on it are alive and well for generations to come—Google searches for “how to live a sustainable lifestyle” surged by a whopping 4,550% in the first few months of 2020.
And I think that by going through all of this and having to stay physically apart from so many people, we’re realizing just how crucial friendship, intimacy, family, and community are to our well-being.
We’re saying “I love you” at every chance we get, and we should say it more. We’re talking more honestly about our feelings and mental health struggles, whether that’s setting social distancing boundaries with friends, being open about depression at work, or bonding over cry-fests and anxiety spirals with new acquaintances. We’re seeing the consequences of those who don’t know how to live in a society not caring that their actions (or inactions) affect others’ lives. And we now know, by not having it, how much we value a simple hug or the sharing of food.
I know there is a long, scary road ahead of us, and I don’t know what’s coming next. But I have hope that the world we’ll return to—whenever that may be—can become something more authentic, humane, and resilient. That conversations around mental health, grief, and other difficult topics will be normalized. That the struggles and changes that are going on within ourselves and between people can help us create something better.
We just have to remember that these crashing waves of intense emotion are indeed waves, and they should be honored. And we have to keep showing up for one another; being vulnerable with those close to us, letting them take care of us, and then getting right back up the next day to be there and hold space for them. We can get each other through it.