On Monday, I got my second “negative” COVID-19 test result after my two-week 4,700+ mile road trip. I was relieved and felt like I dodged a bullet. It’s difficult not catching the deadly virus when so many people have it. Three of my closest friends in Milwaukee (one person who has been in my quarantine bubble of only three people, me, my mother and her since March) have all caught C-19 in the past few weeks. None of them are exactly sure where they caught it. A grocery store? Pumping gas? They always wear masks and felt like they were following all the CDC rules but they still caught it. All have survived, but perhaps passed COVID-19 to more immune systems that were not as strong or… lucky.
With cases surging everywhere, people are afraid to leave their homes. Mostly because they might catch COVID-19 or but for some because they will face judgement and scrutiny from friends who will condemn their “selfish behavior”. As many people saw, I posted photos of my road trip daily. Part of the reason I wanted to travel was because creating art feels good for my soul. Taking pictures at the five national parks we visited, Monument Valley and the mountains of Colorado was my biggest motivation. Being surrounded by nature and all the beauty it offers replenishes my inspiration fuel tank. After one FB post, a friend wrote “A road trip? During a pandemic? Really?” I felt a pang of shame. She called me out on my selfish and ruthless behavior and I was embarrassed.
In the last couple of weeks, I have thought a lot about her comment. Just now when I went to locate it, I couldn’t see it. Maybe she deleted because she later decided that her ‘hall monitor’ comment was unfair or too harsh? Or maybe she saw the other positive comments and felt outnumbered? I’m not sure of her motivation.
I get it. In March, we were told to go inside and stay inside. To get groceries delivered. To stay safe so you can protect not only your own life, but the lives of neighbors. But the thing I didn’t consider is that for too many people being so isolated is not safe. A month ago, with winter looming, and the darkness coming daily by 4PM, I felt like I needed some light. I needed nature before the frozen darkness curtain closed for the next few months. So… I made a run for it. A run for beauty and nature with one of my best friends (who can sing karaoke like Kermit). I ran for laughter and breathtaking vistas that I’d only seen on Google.
Over the past three weeks, I’ve lost three friends. Their death certificates did not cite COVID-19 as the cause of death, but that’s what killed them. Perhaps all three people struggled with sobriety over the past several months and the lack of structure (loss of a steady job), lack of human connection (due to trying to remain safe from catching the deadly virus) and perhaps feeling alone with their grief for the overwhelming sadness that so many people are feeling these days. It’s all too much.
I say ‘perhaps’ because I don’t know why they died. I believe that each person was alone and battling their demons as they have before.
This is not intended to be another blog post about how terrible 2020 continues to be. Instead, this is a call to action. We are not powerless. Those of us who still have some fuel left in our inspiration fuel tank can reach out to our friends and acquaintances to remind them that they are seen and important. Maybe it’s true that no one can really save anyone. I’m not sure. But then again, who wants to be saved anyway. It’s not about saving anyone. It’s about doing what we can to be the light. To share our light. If we have light to spare, perhaps someone needs it. And I’m not suggesting posting an 800-number to prevent suicide. I’m suggesting making a list of friends or acquaintances who have struggled with mental health challenges in the past. Maybe you have a friend who has been on depression meds for years and seems fine… but you don’t know for sure. Text them. It’s a gentle and kind way to show our love. Our lives are so isolated right now and for the foreseeable future. Reach out and touch someone because too many people are in real pain.
Currently, we are facing an unceasing, unending, unrelenting confinement. The vaccine is coming. Someday. We just don’t know how soon. For now… (all we have is now), so the prospect of someday (especially after almost 10-months of “someday”), many people are losing faith in someday. Whatever psychological resources they had in May or June or July have now been exhausted. The call is coming from inside the house. The unrelenting voice (our voice), the one who shows us no mercy or compassion is growing louder and louder. How do we escape that voice? Talk to a friend. No friend would ever say the things we say to ourselves. We would never stand for it. But our inner voice… that’s the real bully.
We all have an inner (and in some cases, an outer) hall monitor. The critic who is omnipresent reminding you that you are doing it wrong. You’re eating too much (insert sweatpants meme here). You’re watching too much TV. You’re drinking too much. You’re X too much. Or the opposite. You’re X not enough. Not strong enough. Not lovable enough. Not brave enough. Whichever way the hall monitor wants to strike, they know how to punch our lights out because they know all of our weaknesses. There’s no escape from her.
As if our inner bully wasn’t enough… People are also suffering from collective grief. Many of us have lost close friends and family members directly or indirectly to this plague. Early in the pandemic, my brother was hospitalized and even had to be intubated for days. We were terrified that we might lose him. For weeks, we weren’t sure what would happen next. That kind of trauma sticks around in your cells for a while. We were beyond grateful that he received excellent care and he survived. But that level of fear and anxiety is not quickly forgotten. Now multiply those dark emotions by thousands because too many of us who have lost friends, our grief feels exponential.
“for there is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one’s own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
This is the right time for us all to start flexing our compassion muscles. My friend Kimiko told me that when we are compassionate, it activates the reward center of the brain (whereas empathy lights up a mirroring pain center). I want to learn more about how compassion and empathy are different and how to employ them better. As you know… I process everything through talking. I’m so grateful to the people in my life who have given me endless hours of their compassionate and generous listening. I feel heard. I feel seen. It’s 4AM and I am writing this because I couldn’t sleep. I feel afraid to lose another person senselessly to this plague. This plague of darkness.
Here’s my request: I am fine. This missive is not a call for help for me. I am writing because I know that my friends are not posting their fears on FB. They may not call an 800 suicide hotline. Or find their sponsors to get real help. For the friends I’ve already lost, I feel heartbroken. Perhaps we can prevent more heartbreak… I am asking you to reach out to a few friends today. Not tomorrow. Or the next day. Or if you don’t have their number, then send a FB message to a friend who you know has struggled with addiction or mental health challenges in the past. Maybe they are 100% A-OK fine. I hope they are! Maybe they have been sober for decades. These are extraordinary times. 2021 doesn’t look much brighter. The vaccine appears to still be months away. Some people don’t have months left in their fuel tank. They need help now. They need people to reach out and remind them that they matter because it might be the only kind voice they’ve heard in a while.
Don’t worry about your words or language. Saying to a friend “I care about you and you matter to me” is powerful. Listening is powerful. Connection in whatever form is powerful. My friend Cady always signs off her group messages with “I love you all”. It feels so good to hear that. Love is powerful.
I love you all.
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