Every Monday at 10:30, our team meets to discuss our Hits and Misses from Sunday. Each team gives a brief rundown of what we did right, what we did wrong, and what needs to be improved.
Now that parts of the country are starting to re-open, I’ve been reflecting on my hits and swing-and-a-misses while I’ve been observing the stay-at-home order. I’ll be honest – it’s a mixed bag of “Look at me go!” and “Let’s pretend that never happened.”
Like many of you, I started out strong. I was in the “We can do this!” mindset and actually quite enjoyed those early days – the slower pace, the interruption to routine, and the freedom from social engagements I felt obligated to participate in (introvert problems, am I right?) Because I love to cook, I even enjoyed the challenge of figuring out meals based on the random ingredients in the pantry since we weren’t making regular trips to the store. I read more, slept more, spent more time with Roy, painted most of the first floor of our house, mastered a new bread recipe, and practiced a hand-lettering technique with watercolors. I baked for friends and volunteers and even repaired my sewing machine – thanks YouTube – to make masks for charities in my community.
Eventually, time started to lose meaning and the Groundhog Day nature of life started to manifest itself. It was harder to get up in the morning and harder to get off the couch at night. Group texts and Zoom chats lost their charm and the thought of cooking anything more complicated than toast made me want to scream. Focusing on work became a Sisyphean task. Case in point – this morning I spent two hours writing an article on supporting your child’s mental health during quarantine. The whole time it felt familiar, but I often write on mental health and wellness, so I ignored the feeling. As I uploaded the story and started adding tags, I realized I had written on the same topic, with almost identical points, two weeks ago.
My anxiety hummed along at a steady 3-4, and I started to struggle with guilt. I don’t have kids at home that I suddenly and unwillingly have to home school. I don’t have to remember how to diagram a sentence or learn Common Core so I can then teach my third-grader long division. I haven’t had to shift from collaborative work with a team to working alone nor do I have a boss that’s overwhelmed by the shift in his work paradigm and is taking it out on his staff. I don’t own a small business that’s had to lay off employees or wonder if the business will survive. I still have a job and have had the means to support local food banks, not visit one. I haven’t had to cancel a wedding, bury a loved one without the comfort and support a memorial service brings, miss my prom, bar mitzvah, quinceañera. graduation, or seek marriage counseling because the problems that were small three months ago have turned into a mammoth-sized intruder in my home.
What right do I have to complain? Millions – actual millions – of Americans would trade places with me in a minute.
Then I read an article in the Harvard Business Review and I had an aha! moment.
I’m grieving. You’re grieving. Guys, we’re all grieving.
David Kessler is one of the world’s foremost experts on grief. He said in an interview with HBR that, in this season, “We feel the world has changed, and it has. We know this is temporary, but it doesn’t feel that way, and we realize things will be different. The loss of normalcy; the fear of economic toll; the loss of connection. This is hitting us and we’re grieving.”
His words hit me like a tsunami. It’s empowering to identify the emotion you’re experiencing – how else can you move forward in a healthy way?
Did you know there’s more than one kind of grief?
- Normal grief is the kind that eventually allows you to move towards acceptance of the loss.
- Anticipatory grief is related to the loss of what was or what you thought life was going to be like.
- Delayed grief is the type that quashes your reactions and emotions until days, even years, down the road.
- Disenfranchised grief (ambiguous) is when you experience an event or loss that no one else acknowledges as important or as a loss in your life.
On top of that, there are seven stages to grief – shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance – and you can move through them in any order for any length of time. You can even backtrack, experience a step more than once, or more than one at a time. Grief is incredibly complex. Some of the symptoms of grief include feeling exhausted though you still can’t sleep, brain fog, headaches, nausea, becoming withdrawn, apathetic or edgy, staying overly busy with mundane tasks, watching TV excessively to avoid thinking or feeling your emotions, frequent sighing or crying…any of that sound familiar?
There are many more types of grief than I listed, but for a lot of us, the one we’re experiencing right now is anticipatory grief – the uncertainty of what’s ahead. We all know that this is just a season and eventually the whole world will focus on establishing a new normal, but what will that look like? We feel unsafe, unsure, unprepared, uncomfortable, unhappy, and unlike ourselves. This is an unprecedented season with unforeseen consequences and an uncertain outcome.
We’re living in the land of Un.
Here’s what I am reminding myself of every day.
- This is a hard season.
- This is definitely more than I can handle alone.
- I’ve been through hard things before.
- I don’t have to have control – this is in His hands.
- There are beautiful things happening all around me.
This is a hard season. Someone recently said that though we’re all in the same storm, we’re not all in the same boat and while that’s true – there’s always someone with bigger problems than you have – that doesn’t change the fact you’re still facing a storm. My sweet friend Sunny who fought more battles than Napoleon Bonaparte said, “We don’t compare journeys.” She’s right. It’s okay to feel those feelings – in fact, it’s healthy. Practicing mindfulness is a big part of course-correcting my mental health. Psalm 23:4 helps me get back on track – “Even though I walk through the darkest valley,[a]I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
This is definitely more than I can handle alone. The saying “God never gives us more than we can handle” is toxic positivity dressed up as spiritual advice. God often gives us more than we can handle in order to draw us to Him. Instead of feeling guilty or defeated for feeling overwhelmed, take comfort in Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
I’ve been through hard things before. I’ve had cancer, buried my father, my grandparents, watched my sister and close friend’s families be ripped apart by divorce, faced job loss, rejection, and battled anxiety and depression. Through it all, God has been faithful. Even on the days getting out of bed was more I was capable of, times I was so angry I couldn’t pray or so low I couldn’t stop crying, He never left me. Romans 8:38-39 promises us, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Nothing can separate us.
I don’t have to have control – this is in His hands. Thank God – and I mean that as a prayer as my mother would say – no one has put me in charge of this situation. Some days I put on my big girl Spanx and charge the gates of hell with a super soaker, the next, I feel like I’m eating soup with a fork and crying at puppy pictures of my dog sleeping peacefully at my feet. Philippians 4:6-7 comforts me with the words: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Finally, I take comfort in knowing there are beautiful things happening all around me. Our friends Leah and Noah had a beautiful baby boy. Our friends Marie and Alvaro got married and live-streamed it to their guests who couldn’t be there because of the stay at home order. My dental hygienist’s daughter had to cancel her wedding, so she used the refunds from her vendors to put a downpayment on a house. I celebrated a birthday and my daughter found a way to turn a peanut buster parfait – my favorite treat at Dairy Queen – into a cake. The people in my church have given generously and we’ve been able to support first responders, families in need, and victims of domestic violence, and teens at risk. We’ve given away thousands of diapers, hundreds of handmade masks, meals, and written countless cards of encouragement and given a host of financial donations to local charities – all because people looked up from the muck they were standing in and looked around.
Be kind to yourself in this season. It’s okay if you’re overwhelmed. It’s okay if you sometimes ugly cry over a burnt grilled cheese or wear the same yoga pants four days in a row because the thought of doing laundry makes you want to Hulk out. Don’t beat yourself up if your all your child has eaten today is six blueberries, a single chicken nugget, and the smashed goldfish crackers they found at the bottom of their backpack when they were looking for colored pencils.
We’re not all in the same boat, but we are all in the same storm. Hang on. Even the worst storms eventually end, and there are heroes waiting for their chance to shine when it’s all over.
Tracey Mac Lean Dowdy 