Pandemic Affirmations
and what I needed to hear.
My senior year of attending New York University and the Stella Adler Conservatory, we were assigned a final project that was a solo performance. That was also the year I had a bone scan to see if my thyroid cancer had returned. Even though my thyroid had been removed, doctors were specifically looking for cancer in the bone marrow or the lungs, either of which I knew would likely be fatal. That season, I was wrapped in ace bandages for several months. Severely pulled muscles was one of the side effects of being without my thyroid medication for an extended period of time. My costume for the performance was my favorite pair of overalls and my stage blocking was simply to sit on a black box while I said my monologue.
I have long since forgotten the words to that performance but I do still remember my spiritual and emotional exhaustion. Finishing college WHILE not knowing if I was going to live or die impacted me daily. Expectations around me were high and with my performance I had to say, “I am here and that is enough.”
“I am here and that is enough.” That needs to be on a post it note on the bathroom mirror or the computer in every home around the world right now. Maybe that’s the cover of the book I haven’t yet written, Pandemic Affirmations.
On the subject of daydreaming, the other day I found myself, while driving, fantasizing about wrapping myself in ace bandages again. I actually think most of us are there. I really appreciate the idea of a physical reminder to ourselves and the outside world that THIS. IS. HARD. and also that “I am here and that is enough.” We need something that reminds us that this pandemic life is not normal and that it hurts.
Amy Cuddy and JillEllyn Riley recently wrote in a Washington Post article, “some people feel ashamed and guilty because they think they should be feeling happy…” Is this you? Many of us look around and if we take the pandemic away, life looks almost normal… sort of. Work is there. The laundry is there. The kids are settled into the school routine. We have all figured out the grocery store runs, safely. We have plenty of toilet paper and the cars have gas. Some of us have gotten haircuts or scheduled our teeth cleanings. Our gardening and remodeling projects are there.
My circle is filled with people who are self motivated, strong, resourceful, exceptionally bright, active and ambitious, and every single one is exhausted and spiritually spent. I had a friend recently lament in frustration that she hadn’t really gotten into her groove of a new exercise routine. I had another ask if it was reasonable to just sit on the bed and stare at the wall for an hour. It is. Personally, I swear I looked left a couple months ago and sprained my neck and I can’t seem to manage to water the potted plants regularly. Even the replacement plants have died. I’ve also misplaced my motivation to do things that I know I enjoy, like finishing my organizing projects. I know I’m not lazy. I usually can and do multitask in life like it’s my super power.
Trying not to die, though, is a really hard way of moving through life. Living through this pandemic for almost two years now is a bit like merging onto the spiritual freeway and finding out that second gear is as fast as you can go. It’s unnerving and scary. We are frantically looking around trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Trying not to die or kill my unvaccinated kid by making the wrong choice takes up a whole bunch of energy and bandwidth. This is why some of us find ourselves sitting at the edge of the bed staring at the wall sometimes.
I was 16 when I was officially diagnosed with cancer. I walked out of the office and I just wanted the world to stop… if only for a moment… just stop and recognize what just happened… and I think right now, we need to sit on a bench somewhere with a friend and have them validate all we have carried and survived these last couple years. We did all that while trying not to die.
You’re not crazy.
You’re not lazy.
It’s not you.
… not at all.
You are here…
And that is enough.
Pandemic life is not normal.
I cannot fix covid. I can’t do your laundry or take care of your kids. What I can do is tell you that you are not alone as lonely as all this feels. I can tell you I’m sitting with you and I see the shit show. I truly recognize how hard this is. I am here. And if you’ll just hang in there with me I promise it gets better.
When you’re done reading this and get back to your regularly scheduled programming, I suggest considering making friends with the elephant in the room. “I did the laundry… while living through a pandemic.” “I made breakfast, got the kid ready for school, made his lunch, made sure his reading log was tucked in his backpack… all while living through a pandemic.” “I sat on the couch all day and don’t know what happened… but I didn’t die today.”
You are here and that is enough.
It does get better. I promise.
I’m sitting here with you and the elephant… and yeah, it’s huge.