“I feel so alone. No one understands exactly what it’s like to be me right now. When I try to talk to people for support, I just end up getting mad. I cry at least twice a day—usually more.”
These are all things I said to my therapist today. That’s right. I go to therapy. I think almost everyone should. Living with complex medical conditions while trying to keep up with the demands of our capitalist society by continuing to work full-time is HARD. (Honestly, doing either one of those things on its own is hard.) I don’t know what I’d do without her validation. That was true before I’d ever heard of COVID-19. It’s especially true lately. In the past month, almost all of my doctors’ appointments have been canceled. A couple of months ago, my excellent physical therapist went to work somewhere else (where I’m unable to follow her), and I hadn’t met the PT she’d recommended before the shelter-in-place order (so I don’t have the option to email either of them for advice or anything). My day job is allowing me to work from home, as of last week, and I’m grateful to be doing it, but it comes with its own problems. I had to choose: continuing to work at my office (and risk infecting myself and others) but having most of the physical supports I need or working from home in a comfortable chair but without any of the other things I need (like a proper keyboard and mouse on a large desk). I could go into a lot more detail, but the point is that a lot of things really suck right now.
Even the experts don’t know
For the past several weeks, every time I think I finally have a good idea for a new blog post, I read the news—and there goes what I was going to say. New information becomes obsolete faster than cellphones in 2020, it seems. At this moment, I can’t remember what I wanted to say with those unwritten words. I’m not even completely clear on it right now, but I want you to know that it’s OK not to be clear, not to know. And it’s OK to be certain of something one minute and be in absolute despair and doubt the next. Although people have lived through pandemics and other national emergencies before, no one has ever experienced exactly what we are dealing with now. Anyone who tells you they have all the answers and they know exactly what to do…well, they’re full of it. There are a lot people doing great things to help right now, but not one of them has all of the answers.
Coping is optional
I imagine you’ve seen a lot of things lately about how to cope with anxiety and how to develop resilience in the face of trauma. There is good stuff in most of those articles, videos, memes, etc. But how many have you seen that tell you it’s OK to not be OK? Because the world is not OK right now. When I work with clients, we often do an exercise to determine if the client is safe in the present moment. We identify evidence to prove it. Usually the answer is yes, because they can say they are with someone they trust, they’re in a room with the door closed, the room is not on fire, etc. While those things might still be true, we don’t truly know if we’re safe right now. We could be infected with the coronavirus and not know it. Under these circumstances, it is appropriate to feel afraid. All of the things that help with “regular anxiety,” like calling a friend, listening to your favorite music, and spending time outside in the fresh air, are still good things to do—but they probably won’t work as well as we’d like them to. They’ll be there if you want to try them; it’s OK if you don’t.
Happily never after
Today I found myself thinking about the musical Into the Woods. (It’s probably free to watch somewhere right now. I recommend the original Broadway version over the newer movie version.) I love it for many reasons—but especially because they don’t all live happily ever after. It depicts trauma and grief that rings absolutely true, even though it’s a fairytale. I’m not saying that it will give you any more answers than I have here, but when I listened to some of it this afternoon I did believe, at least for a minute, that no one is alone. While it’s through a screen, for now, we’re still here to take care of each other. (If you prefer it over the video, here’s a link to the song lyrics.)
Final thought: You are even better than tacos, so you go ahead and fall apart as much as you need to.
Christy Olson, MSW, LICSW, is a therapist who specializes in supporting clients who live with chronic illness and chronic pain. She likes working from home because she can wear sweatpants, but she worries that her cat is starting to resent her constant presence and may be plotting revenge. Learn how to become a client by clicking here.