2020’s coronavirus and its effects have given us a lot to grieve.  Across the United States, almost 150,000 people have died, and many more have gotten so sick that it’s done permanent damage to their bodies.  Worldwide, over 640,000 people have died.  And when we consider grief, these staggering numbers are at the crux of that idea.

Secondarily, the virus has been economically devastating for so many people.  Before this year, a lot of people worked in industries that depend heavily on people leaving their homes and congregating.  Even folks who were financially secure have found themselves at a crossroads, not knowing when they’ll be able to work again.  My friends who work in the theater industry have simultaneously lost their financial stability, the ability to use the skills they’ve spent a lifetime cultivating, and their artistic outlet.  They are devastated.

Rightfully, these are the losses everyone is talking about: loss of life, loss of health, and loss of financial stability (and, for some, ability to even just stay afloat).  But while those are formidable things, they aren’t the only things we’re grieving right now.  We’re all feeling a little bit unstable, and our entire way of life has tectonically shifted.  And while it’s not loss of life, these losses also deserves some attention and validation.

Grieving your vision for the year

At the end of last year, I had a baby.  I always envisioned I would be a very “have baby, will travel” parent: going to music classes, park meetups with other new moms, visits to the zoo and botanical gardens, and big, socially un-distanced gatherings with extended family.  And obviously, this year has been different than that.

For me, it’s been relatively easy to shift my vision and find peace with what is.  Instead, we’ve developed cozy little home rituals, and spent more time with the baby.  But it’s not what I imagined or wanted.

Here are some of the things I’ve heard people talk about having to, or choosing to, delay this year:

  • Weddings
  • Family growth, including long-awaited IVF treatments
  • Gender transition procedures, such as hormones and surgery
  • Job or career changes
  • Premiers of creative projects (movie and theater) they had invested years into
  • Dating
  • Leaving a relationship
  • Starting college, or starting kindergarten

Some of the things on this list, like weddings, might have been in the works for a long time.  Others, like changing a relationship status or career, are things that may have been the result of a New Year’s Eve declaration: “This will be the year that I finally ____!”  Either way, people had plans for this year, and those plans have been derailed.  And for many, the hardest part is not knowing when they can be rescheduled.

If this year hasn’t been exactly what you expected, let yourself feel your feelings.  Acknowledge that what you’re experiencing is grief, and that you are likely experiencing Elisabeth Kubler Ross’s 5 stages: Depression, Anger, Bargaining, Denial, and Acceptance.  Remember that these stages are non-linear (you may experience them out of order), and that you may cycle back to a stage that you thought you’d already processed.  While you can choose to numb out, deny, or invalidate these feelings, you won’t process your experience unless you acknowledge it.

(And if this zany year has been exactly what you expected, I’d love to hear any stock market predictions you might have…)

Existential grief over time lost

The song “100 Years” by Five for Fighting makes me cry.  Even Googling it just now to find the release date made me tear up a little bit.  If you don’t know it, click the link and give it a listen.  It creeps its way into the gooiest, most sentimental part of my existential control center, and jabs at the “overwhelm system” button repeatedly for 4 minutes and 2 seconds.  The key line?  “There’s never a wish better than this when you’ve only got 100 years to live.”

If the pandemic and lockdown last for a year, and Five for Fighting is right – that you’ll live for 100 years – that’s a full 1% of your life that’s “wasted”.  I’ve written before about how the idea of “wasted time” is related to death anxiety.  And for many, many people, the pandemic feels like nothing but time wasted.  I’ve heard this in equal measures from people who are feeding a sourdough starter, tearing through jigsaw puzzles, and fostering a dog, and from folks who are working long hours as an ER nurse.  It feels like personal development has been put on hold.

Consider Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, shown here:

According to Maslow, you can’t focus on the needs that are higher in the pyramid until you’ve met the more foundational ones.  Those of us who are secure enough to have physical needs met right now (we’re in good health, not worried about food or shelter, etc.) are still feeling awfully worried about safety.  And even if you’re not, there’s no denying that social connection has become more complicated and less available.

And the stuff that makes you feel like you’re on the path to existential fulfillment?  That’s the top of that pyramid.  Very few of us are comfortably plugging away at the work of self-actualization right now.

Some people say “everything happens for a reason”, but I don’t really believe that.  What I do believe is that human beings have a strong ability to “make meaning” of difficult situations; that is, to find lessons and grow from experiences.

This is very, very hard to do in the moment.  I can say, “My spouse and I got to see every milestone of our baby’s first year, because we were both working from home.”  But I still feel a flicker of sadness about the outings and opportunities we’re missing out on.

So instead of getting angry at yourself for struggling to make meaning, find patches of it where you can, and recognize that perhaps more of it will be in store when you have the benefit of hindsight.

Grieving the illusion of your own invincibility

I know a lot of people with chronic or recurrent illness, or with visible and invisible disabilities.  I also know a lot of people who have lost parents and spouses.  For these folks, the illusion that we are indestructible was shattered a long time ago.

But if you’ve never had a real loss, either of your own functioning or of a loved one, you probably feel a little bit invincible.  I mean, cognitively, if you really sit down and think about it, you recognize that there’s a clock ticking.  We all know that there are a lot of dangers in the world – everything from car accidents to airborne illness – and that eventually we will all die.  But it’s not something most people think very much about.

…Until now.

Every time I leave the house, I feel hypervigilant.  Who’s wearing a mask and who isn’t?  Did that person get too close?  Was that person clearing their throat, or was that a dry cough?

I’ve always been a rule-follower, and I’ve always valued the importance of safety precautions.  I buckle my seatbelt and use my turn signal, even in parking lots.  I walk to the crosswalk.  I wear a helmet if I ride a bicycle.  And now, I wear a mask outside my home, even if all I’m doing is pulling in the garbage cans.

But now the world just feels like an unsafe place.  I’m potently aware of it every time I leave my house, and a lot of my clients and friends are too.  They say that safe, outdoor, socially distant interactions with friends require a lot of energy, and they feel exhausted afterwards in a way that was never true before.

Maybe the world will feel safe again someday.  Honestly, I think it’s going to take some time to adjust.  Even if there’s a widely disseminated vaccine, old habits die hard, and a lot of us are still going to have a reflexive reaction when someone gets too close to us at the grocery store.  (As an aside, pandemic grocery store anxiety is its own beast.  For more on that, check out this article I was interviewed for in the Washington Post.)  Eventually, though, we’ll adjust.

In the meantime, a gratitude practice can work wonders.  You’ve always known that your time is limited; now you’re feeling it more strongly.  So what can you be grateful for in the time you have?  Each day, at a designated time, write down or tell someone some specific things that you’re grateful for.  It will refocus you from feeling afraid to feeling more positive and centered.

Grieving connectedness

If I’ve quoted Brene Brown once, I’ve quoted her a thousand times: “Connection is the reason we’re all here.”

And what we’re all experiencing right now is inherently disconnecting.  Politicians have tried to rebrand “social distancing” as “physical distancing”, but even so, most people would agree that it’s not the same.  You can spend all day “connecting” on Zoom, but even if you can get past the Zoom fatigue and associated burnout, you may still feel isolated due to Online Disinhibition Effect.

Online Disinhibition Effect is the way in which relating online feels disconnected from the experience of interacting with a real person.  Online interactions don’t feel like authentic, deep connection.  They feel like everything is a game.  The only way to mitigate this is to constantly remind yourself, “I am talking to a real human being.  This is not a recording.  We are not playing a game.”

And as exhausting as these interactions are, I’m forever grateful that we have access to them.  I can’t imagine what it was like in 1918.

Furthermore, we’re increasingly learning that living a full and supported life really does take a village.  If you have children, you’re feeling the heft of how important childcare and family gatherings are.  If you’re single, you may miss dating, or even just the underrated value of human touch.

Another level to grieving this sense of connectedness is that you may be grieving your faith in people.  If you’re a “rule follower” like me, and you see someone raising hell over being asked to wear a mask at a Trader Joe’s, it can make you question everything you believe about people’s desire to protect and take care of each other.  You may be grieving the loss of a core belief that most people are intrinsically wired to be prosocial.  (Of course, for some people, that grief has been on a slow drip since the 2016 election…)

And all of those ruptures to the way we connect, relate, depend on others, and believe in each other… it’s just a lot.

Mr. Rogers said that in difficult situations, you should look for the heroes.  And right now, there are a lot of heroes to be seen.  Between protesters across the country standing up for racial justice (have you heard of the “wall of moms” in Portland??), the healthcare workers on the frontlines, and every ordinary citizen who wears a mask for the health of those around them, people are taking steps to take care of others.

Our brains are hard-wired to notice anything that’s a potential threat, and to be sure there’s also a lot of that to be found.  But don’t forget to notice the people who are fighting to make the world better during this hard time.

Grief work is hard.

Grieving isn’t easy, and we don’t have cultural support systems for these more invisible types of grief.  Things like looking for the heroes, practicing gratitude, and making meaning can be transformative, but a lot of people need support with these things.

Strength-based therapy helps you refocus on the strengths and resiliencies you already have, and teaches you how to use the tools I mentioned in this blog post.  You can read more about it here.  And if you’d like some support, please don’t hesitate to reach out.