Grief, Denial, and the Time Spiral

Why does it feel like it's been 500 years since I last opened this page to write? Or since I last opened the book I'm reading? Or since I last made a meal or a cup of tea? Spoken with someone on the phone?

It's that strange perception of time in the time of Corona. Corona time.

I've noted in my journal, almost daily, these odd perceptions as they've come up. I've also noted what has been most sustaining for me. Copious cups of tea and occasional human contact. 

I notice the rhythm of my moods. Today it took about seven hours for me to feel good after waking. Or even to feel fully awake. I am stunned that I was able to get so much work done in spite of it. From where does the will or energy come?

Honestly, I am doing pretty well, all things considered. I continue to have meaningful work and an income. Health insurance. A home. My health is good. And, yet, there's this strange feeling that my health and well being are not exactly in sync these days. I am probably not alone in this. This is another strange element of Corona perception that I'm noticing in my own experience and with what others have been sharing.

Two years ago my summer blogging project was themed around self love, and I find myself craving that orientation right about now. How do we keep that in front of ourselves, when so much seems to be collapsing around us? I think part of the answer is to remember that it's during times of stress and collapse that it's crucial to be gentle with ourselves, to care for ourselves, to ease back on the expectations we have for ourselves.  

There's a tendency to self-coach around how well we're doing. I have mixed feelings about it. How do we do this in life-giving ways, and not fall into shaming ourselves or piling on layers of guilt when we're not able to live well? And how are we defining "well" these days as it relates to our efforts? 

I'm thinking back to the time a few months ago when people were realizing that the Class of 2020 would not be able to do the usual milestones that have characterized senior year for the last few decades. When some people expressed their grief and disappointment, others compared their experience to the young people who went to war in WWI and II in an effort to shame and shut this conversation down. That was not helpful.

I've heard similar dynamics in more recent conversations when people express their grief and disappointment around how life is different now than it has been. It is. And it's hard and sometimes painful, often challenging. It's disappointing and difficult. 

Denying the reality does not heal the hurt or calm the fear or inspire a different attitude.

But what do we do after we express the effects of the new reality and notice our experience without judgment?

I think the impulse is to jump over the grief and to leap headlong into discovering what comes next. Or creating what comes next. That may work for some, for awhile. But I suspect, knowing grief as I do, that this will simply compound the challenges and lead to more suffering and paralysis. Grief must have its day, and grief knows what it needs in order for our lives to transform and for the next unfolding to begin. Our job is to listen, without judgement, and to allow what is needed. New beginnings spring from what is ending. 

Days of Accidental Beauty: 40 Days of Noticing is a daily writing practice that invites discovery.