This past Feb. 2, Punxsutawney Phil advised us that we were in for six more weeks of winter but we certainly have more to dodge in our near future than snowflakes.
While, for many, the weather isn’t helping, we’re hearing a lot about people feeling overwhelmed and fatigued by our “new normal.” What really affected me was one mom who shared her son’s growing malaise, anger and hesitancy about everyday activities and his apprehensions about the future. In all crises, we must especially consider the children.
Those working on the front lines are suffering inexplicably, but the symptoms of this current battle against COVID affect everyone. We’re all handling unique issues that are very real. We see increasing cases of depression, and feelings of dread, confusion and of being overwhelmed. They’re fairly natural under the circumstances, but they’re also disorienting, and the potential for disaster is always looming.
We’re concerned, every day, about contracting a deadly disease. We’re confining ourselves, and every aspect of life has changed. Right now, we’re starting to see a dim glow at the end of the tunnel, but we’re not out of the dark yet, especially where our economy is concerned, but more importantly, where our general psyche is concerned.
Most of us have gotten better at keeping a stiff upper lip under our masks. We reflect on the ordeals of history to boost our fortitude and that, by comparison, we’re doing well. Certainly, we would do well to remember that the dusty head cloud we’re experiencing is just a side effect, and that we’re not alone in it.
Still, this situation has increased joblessness, hunger and homelessness. Many families lack sufficient food, necessities and a warm, safe shelter, every day. The fear of not knowing what happens next is as bad as racing to a bomb shelter to those who are doing the running. Then, if we’re the lucky ones who are still fairly financially stable, we may berate ourselves for complaining and being ungrateful. It’s a vicious cycle, and there’s a real gaslighting effect that this kind of unnatural existence can wreck upon us.
Fighting a plague is new to almost all world citizens. It’s a life threatening crisis and, while it’s foreign and frightening for the adults who can understand it, it’s even more foreign and frightening for the children who can’t. No matter how resilient they may seem, our children, over a large age range, are handling the derailment of their normal life with a far shallower font of experience. The loss of their everyday routine, and living life off the cuff, combine with the genuine apprehension they’re feeling about the future.
Without the frames of reference adults have, our children can find themselves even more confused and isolated and working harder to adjust than we do as adults. It results in behavioral challenges for them and numerous challenges for their parents who are trying to bring comfort and stability to them. This contributes to most adults experiencing increased concern for their children as well as increased personal stress, while many are struggling financially as well.
It all takes us far past abandoning shaving, living in pajamas, and dinner becoming a critical issue. It’s the growing mental exhaustion. It’s apathy, brain fog, and the fallout of all the sameness. It’s the constant pressure of it all, and let’s never underestimate the very real human need for social interaction.
Confinement is more than just being at home. It’s less about the special things we’re missing and more about the ordinary things we did every day that we don’t do anymore. We feel so disoriented, confused, and even fatigued, that even the small goals we set for ourselves seem either overwhelming or unnecessary. For our kids, it’s even worse. As magical and creative as they are, they feel trapped too, having trouble in, not only understanding the whole crisis, but in verbalizing their frustrations and concerns as well.
It’s the virus we must fight, but we also have to fight to reassure the little ones. They’re battling their own ghosts. They are, after all, confused, afraid and shouldering a silent burden in their own world.
Sometimes, just giving chaos a label can keep it on the shelf where it can’t get loose so let’s say: This isn’t the new us – it’s a temporary version of us. What we’re feeling isn’t madness – it’s a natural response to our fear, confusion and confinement. It’s real, but it’s only a symptom, and we can’t succumb to any of its side effects.
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