By Eileen Spatz
Wow, this crazy coronavirus event has led me to have some very deep new insights. We all know that tired old saying, “You don’t know what you have until you lose it.” Never have those words packed such a punch as during these last several weeks.
Most of us are still reeling from the scenario playing out right before our eyes, increasingly incredulous as the days roll by. Whipsawed on a daily basis by data, science, medical stuff, death counts, and reports of financial devastation have us feeling cross-eyed by the time we hit the sack each night.
While some of us deal with all the uncertainty by closing our eyes, plugging our ears, and singing la la la la la…weirdoes like me feel compelled to at least attempt to understand what is happening to our world, our lives, and pretty much everything we thought we knew. I realize my response is, for me personally, a coping mechanism of sorts. After several years of feeling a total lack of control after experiencing some significant losses, by trying to make sense of the whole virus thing I recognize my efforts are a feeble attempt to try and retain some sense of control in my life. I envy those who are sailing through this with a laissez faire attitude—they will likely need fewer antacids.
We all have our own unique challenges associated with these stay-at-home measures. My own challenge centers around being all alone during the quarantine era. Wow, so utterly alone! Well, I do have a dog, thank God, and I appreciate his presence more and more with each passing solitary day. But what I miss more than anything is being able to give my grandkids, my daughters, my family members and my friends a hug. The dog just doesn't do hugging very well.
I have attempted to add some structure to my days by engaging in live Zumba classes, Zumba being a particular passion of mine. It is just nice to be able to put something on my blank calendar! It is so great to have instructors willing to devote their time and energy to keep us dancing, opening up their homes to us and giving us some sense of normalcy in our lives. But occasionally, when I am dancing there in my dining room, lap top propped there with Latin rhythms pulsating, I become aware that it is just me, all by myself, dancing along with the thumbnails of others. Suddenly, I feel sad. I miss the energy of the group, seeing us all smiling in our reflection in the mirror as we danced together.
The same goes for a Zoom version of my church group, a makeshift facsimile of the weekly gatherings we always enjoy every Tuesday morning. Yes, the Zoom meetings are a good solution for this moment in time, but still they lack the person-to-person camaraderie, the hugs, the snack table, and the giggles. A computer screen cannot replace that beautiful soul-to-soul encounter of twenty lovely women offering up prayers for each other’s petitions around a table.
When I venture out for a walk or a drive, I am noticing subtle shifts in my sensory perceptions. Maybe it’s because I have spent so much time secluded in my deafeningly quiet home that I now find myself more sensitive to loud cars and motorcycles or speedy drivers. I guess you become so immune to them in the regular grind of daily life that when you are removed from the hustle and bustle these things feel a bit unsettling to the spirit now.
Another thing I noticed, on a walk the other day, is that my sense of smell is enhanced. I was walking along and noticed the wonderful pungent scent of pine trees and then eucalyptus, and I found myself closing my eyes and just breathing in these yummy smells like the gifts that they are. Would I have noticed these two months ago?
Winding through the weeks alone, somewhat unnerved and a bit apprehensive about the future, I found myself cycling through distinct emotional phases. In fact, I read somewhere that what many of us are experiencing right now resembles Kübler-Ross’ five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally (not there yet) acceptance. I have to agree with the comparison! Collectively, we are engaged in a grieving process, mourning a way of life we may never experience again. I recognize that I am kicking and screaming my way to that place of acceptance. I also realize that the sooner we are able to detach from the life we knew and be open to accepting the new normal, the better we will fare psychologically. This, however, is easier said than done.
I am certain that when this crisis is behind us, we will see the profound ways that the coronavirus has changed our daily lives. But right now, in the thick of it, there are already some pretty significant benefits:
Parents are home with their kids more now, so you see families out on walks, having picnics on the grass, and playing various outdoor games together at the park—badminton, soccer, baseball, and basketball.
We have a deepened appreciation for a way of life we most likely had taken for granted, especially when faced with the prospect that life might look much different in the future.
Because the pace of life has slowed down to a crawl, it has caused us to pause and take a breath. We now notice the many blessings in our lives—smelling the roses, as they say.
A deepening of faith. Faith beliefs are incredibly personal, so I speak only for myself, but I have seen my own faith enriched in these weeks. I appreciate my liturgical customs much more, noticing during Lent and Easter how much more emotionally I was affected while engaging in live-streamed masses and other events related to the season of Easter.
We are becoming more compassionate. Seeing the news reports of the casualties of the COVID-19 pandemic fills us with sorrow. The elderly expiring in the nursing homes, alone, and not getting a proper burial has been just heartbreaking, as are the stories of young people losing their lives to the virus. As a society we are grieving this tragedy together.
With many of us losing income due to the shutdown, I would venture to say that people will be more cognizant of saving for a rainy day going forward. We seem to learn these lessons the hard way.
All I know is that human beings are not wired to live without physical interaction. Virtual socializing is a poor substitute for being with your friends and family in person. There is nothing that will ever measure up to the beauty of giving and receiving a simple hug. And right about now, because I have been living hug-free for weeks now—I would give just about anything for one. When we can hug again we may never ever let go.
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