A few months ago we stopped getting the newspaper. Thomas had already subscribed to The New York Times digitally but I was a hold out for the news I could feel in my hands, so I kept a subscription for the Sunday Times going for many years. Sunday mornings would be a time for coffee, lounging and pouring over the paper. I started with the Sunday crossword as Thomas perused the Book Review. It often took me several days to get through the whole paper.
Once we moved to Virginia and started living with Hilary and Nate, I found myself changing up my Sunday morning routine. The house offered a 200% increase in human companionship than I had experienced for almost an entire year. We found ourselves exploring our new surrounds and talking, not reading, over our Sunday coffee. I also found myself veering away from the solitary entertainment of the crossword puzzle, and weeks would go by without me completing it. This Covid year has encouraged me to put aside some of my reclusive activities for the company of others when I can get it. A precious commodity that I used to take for granted.
Now I have two newspapers loaded onto my IPad and I skim the news stories each morning when I wake up. Where I used to listen to NPR to get most of my news, I now review The New York Times and The Washington Post on a daily basis. I haven't gotten used to the difference in the local NPR station in Northern Virginia/Washington D.C. Everything is different ~ Fresh Air is on at a different time, no noon update on a daily basis from Governor Newsom, and local programming seems foreign to me. Also, without the constant chatter of the previous president infuriating me, I don't feel like I have to be up-to-the-minute informed. Our new president is quietly and competently making decisions that seem to be focused on making the country a safer place for everyone. That low buzz of worry that was always in the back of my mind is abating.
So, here is what I read everyday...the pandemic has changed our lives forever. The stories are all slightly different, they are mostly first person accounts of how the writer or the interviewee is affected by the pandemic. People have relaxed too quickly. People are afraid to go back out into the world. People are overwhelmed with social interactions. Basically, people are reactive to the things they missed about their pre-pandemic lives and they are functioning in their own individual ways in relationship to their existential fears. And my psychotherapist mind says "we ain't seen nothing yet".
Here is my prediction (as I believe I have alluded to before). The pandemic was a collective trauma; particularly for those who feel a sense of agency in their own lives. That covers me, my family, my friends and millions of others with whom we share the planet. Many of us live in a world of mostly theoretical fears ~ nuclear war could happen (we don't think it will), our homes could be broken into (we do what we can to prevent that), we could get sick at any time (our privilege allows us medical care and life choices that promote health). The pandemic though was more non-discriminatory. Most of us were lucky that we didn't suffer great financial loss and that allowed us to be more self-protective. But we all did experience that everyday truth that we couldn't get out of our minds ~ if I get sick from this virus I could die. People really are dying from this virus.
When this is over(ish) a collective PTSD will set in. We will feel scared (or wary) to do things we want to do and used to do. (I flew to visit my granddaughter this week-end. First flight in thirteen months; it was eerie and I am not anxious to do it again anytime soon.) It will feel strange and hard to eat inside a restaurant. When we are fully vaccinated and around others who are fully vaccinated we will still hesitate before we hug or touch in anyway. PTSD is a reaction to a life threatening event. This was/is a life threatening event and our lizard brains will react in anyway they need to to keep us alive. The less we need to be on hyper-alert about this virus, the more the PTSD will set in. We will need to relearn a feeling of safety in the world and that relearning process will takes its own toll on us.
Here is my professional and personal recommendation for all of us getting through what the near future has to offer. Know that we are in this together. Practice compassion for the quirky behaviors that will come out of this as you watch your loved ones renegotiate their lives. Practice self-compassion as you find yourself startled or anxious or fearful in ways that do not seem logical. Accept that we are changed forever by this existential crisis that has reminded us of our human fragility. In that change perhaps we can appreciate on a whole new level the gift of our own lives, of each other, and the importance of here and now. Let's reframe Covid. It is a wake up call to dig into life, to notice, to appreciate, to be grateful and to embrace the offering of unpredictability. The other option, to allow Covid to keep all the power, is just no way to live.
Terese, I relate to so much of how you described our collective COVID trauma experience. I, too, feel changed in some good ways and some not so good. I've put my toe-in-the-water of changes I wish to make such as daily yoga, meditation and hiking the hills but I've learned that while I value these, I'm just not as disciplined as I'd like to be. I can easily embrace gratitude, nature, time with loved ones and friends. But there's still a tentativeness about resuming what was before. I really prickle at the idea of appreciating unpredictability...nope, don't like it - unless it's a surprise moment with a granddaughter. So have I become more rigid? Maybe. But I hope it isn…