I’ve heard many people compare the experience of living through the Covid-19 pandemic to the five stages of grief first introduced to the world in the book On Death and Dying, by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. As many people who have dealt with the pain of losing a loved one will tell you, the stages of grief are not always linear. Grief is complex and the movement between its stages can be sped up, slowed down, circular — or repeated over time. Based on my current experience, I’m expecting to cycle through a few if not all of the stages at least more than once.
We are entering our third week of self-isolation, with last week having brought on a more serious shelter in place order in our local community. It feels like it’s been much longer. Time has slowed, even with the more intense juggling of work with our kid being home. I have gone through at least one intense grief cycle already — even though it feels like I’d been in denial for three quarters of this time since the pandemic entered our sphere. The denial period started before the self-isolation began. It took me a few days to really get a grasp on the seriousness of the situation and why we should self-isolate for the sake of the broader community. I think that’s been a pretty common theme for a lot of people. That’s been one of the positives about living through this pandemic online. The spreading of social encouragement and reasons why we should self-isolate for the good of the community have proven to be a powerful and effective viral message.
But then came the shaming part and the anger that many people felt about our government’s lack of planning and downright denial of the pandemic. I was still in denial mode even as I started to get frustrated and, dare I say, angry at everyone else’s shaming and anger over the situation. I felt like it suddenly became my full-time job to spread positivity and warn people against spreading negativity. I wanted to explain to people why we needed each other and how dangerously contagious negativity was at this time. Thankfully, that part came to an end after about a week and a half. Oh, I’m still trying to spread positivity here and there, but I no longer feel like it’s my job to convince other people to do the same.
Late last week I dabbled in some bargaining. I begged God to share with me what I needed to hear: “I’m listening. What do I need to learn? I’m suffering. See? Don’t make me go all the way down. I’m suffering enough, all right? Tell me what I need to do. If you tell me, I’ll do it. Whatever you want. I’m yours. Just don’t make me suffer the ultimate. Please?” Then I started to sink into a serious depression last Friday.
I am familiar with depression. It’s been a long-time companion that I’ve learned to manage over the years, sometimes better than other times. I have adopted lots of coping tools, some of which I utilize daily like meditation and exercise. But now, my normal exercise routine has been interrupted. I’m finding it challenging to get my endorphin release these days since I can’t go to the gym. Of course, I know I’m not alone in this. Social isolation is often both a cause and a symptom of depression and so this forced isolation is exacerbating depression for so many of us. Zoom meetings are helping, but it’s just not the same as being in the same room with people. It’s always been helpful to find community online, but I’ve slowly learned it’s not a replacement. We need each other’s physical presence. A voice is better than a text, as a live face-to-face Zoom is better than a phone call. But it’s not the same.
I had convinced myself for a long time that I preferred texting people than actually talking to them on the phone and that I’d rather be at home socializing with people online instead of interacting with them in real life. I’m an introvert, I’d tell myself. And while this is true and while I do need to spend a good amount of time alone, I do genuinely enjoy meeting and talking with people in person. I’ve completely missed out on fully engaging with the people around me for too many years. I think this experience has just brought this reality home to me. Maybe that’s what God needs me to hear. I hope so. I’ll still be listening just in case.
This week I’ve come full circle by experiencing acceptance, the fifth stage of grief. This acceptance has come begrudgingly and feels tenuous as depression still threatens to take over at any moment. That feeling is a reminder that these stages are not necessarily linear. Consciously, I know that one can’t do much but surrender to the current circumstances. We are completely powerless in this situation and the sooner we realize this and surrender to it, the better. In fact, as this is a core tenet of living a spiritual life, in a sense I’ve been practicing for this moment all year long through my deepened commitment to my spiritual journey and centering prayer. I didn’t know that was what I was doing, but it sure seems like this is all a big test of how strong I’ve become this year. I want to say that I’m living up to the challenge and growing stronger, but I don’t know yet how severe I’ll be tested. I’m hoping to look back at this year and be grateful for its lessons. They say that it is precisely in these moments of darkness when we have the most opportunities for growth transformation.
