The Pandemic Hybrid

 

As a person recovering from all or nothing, black or white thinking, I am challenged by pigeonholing. And then, Covid-19 hit. As if I wasn’t already rifling through layers of trauma, now add a pandemic to the mix and stir?!

All or nothing. Black or white. This or that.

Or, (as in, or else), instead of and.

And, that seems to be a big part of the emotional/mental pain, as each of us struggles to navigate this crisis.

As we’ve dealt with the struggles associated with Covid-19: the fear, the uncertainty, the health threat, I know it’s hit me hard, especially as I am a cancer survivor. Having no frame of reference for this kind of crisis, we’ve are now inundated with an array of complicated, mixed, sometimes, polar opposite kinds of feelings. We can feel hopeful, despair-filled, excited, anxious and rageful, all within the span of five or ten minutes. And that’s even before we turn on the news for the day.

This emotional break-neck speed of emotions seems to be one of the hallmarks of this plague. I thought I had grown accustomed to it 1) being a fussy person by nature and 2) grappling with my cancer diagnosis. But the Coronavirus just blew everything up. I could not be or stay any one thing for long before I was hurled into another mental state and personality.

And here’s where I encountered, perhaps, another symptom of Covid-19’s reality: the shaming for not falling in line with one feeling and sticking with it.

I admit it; I have been called Pollyanna a few times in my life. I was judged for having the unrealistic, out-of-touch, naivete that was not automatically doom and gloom 24/7.

Still, I don’t consider myself to be a cock-eyed optimist. And I haven not worn bows in my hair in decades. Yes, I may be naïve or uninformed about certain things. Most of us are. My life of faith can, quite possibly, showcase that perspective. I believe in a “Higher Power.” Some may call it delusion; some may call it magical thinking.

Sooner or later, however, I run into a person’s sentiment, chastising me, directly or indirectly, for any kind of hopeful stance, like…

“This is the end of life as we know it. Take this seriously.”

This is a harmful judgment.  People who are struggling with depression are out there, and perhaps, this was the first time, in weeks, they have been able to feel good about anything.

Slap the hand. Nope, we can’t have that!

Or, how about this one?

“You need to be realistic.”

Not hopeful, not joyful. Possessing those attributes can absolutely, positively, do nothing good for anyone here. “Realistic,” in this instance, can often be code for “must defer to another’s despair-filled cynicism.”

Unfortunately, some people cannot be satisfied until another person is dejected and stripped of all hope for the future. Indeed, it is a challenge for us to not succumb to despair, all in the name of “being realistic.”

“This is not the time to be giddy and joyful.”

Now we have bad timing, to boot.

Somehow, any time we experience joy, organic, innocent joy, we can often find ourselves criticized for encountering it. Again, we can be shamed for a moment of emotional reprieve. We are judged, then and there, as wrong for experiencing some flitting joy. However, often, it’s a rare case of it. Perhaps, we are experiencing loss, grief and painful life circumstances which necessitate we be sober, somber, and diligent. Those instances, however, are not taken into account so quickly and easily. Rather, that one moment of “unacceptable” joy is hurled against us.

And yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, that can create a host of trust issues.

I know that my “trust issues” span the range of being incredibly trusting, sometimes to my own detriment, to being completely distrustful of anything or anyone.

And this leads me to another persona within me: the fictional character of Sarah Connor from the Terminator film franchise, the real doom and gloom side of me. The anti-Pollyanna. I can go quite dark and hopeless. The pandemic, of course, amplifies that. Apocalyptic. End of days. Resigned to a fate of being annihilated by cyborgs.

You know, the life of the party.

Here, as Sarah Connor, is usually where I encounter the flipside criticisms of my Pollyanna self, proclaiming the virtue signaling of gratitude and healthy perspective:

“Think about someone who has lost a loved one to Covid-19.”

The Covid-19 equivalent, perhaps, of “starving children in Africa” when you don’t clean your plate.

This shames those of us Eeyores out there, those of us who are not easily or naturally “sunny.” That’s tough enough. Now, add a pandemic.

Who can, after all, argue with life and death matters? If someone has succumbed to Covid-19, how dare we be sad about our own tough times? Surely, we’re not going through something as much as another, right? We, therefore, compare and contrast the circumstances. We judge ourselves. We shame ourselves, often taking over from the person who initially made that, less-than-helpful, observation or statement.

“Be thankful for all you have. It could be taken away at any moment.”

This response is usually not far behind.

 Those of us already struggling with hypervigilance concerning fear and guilt feel like we’re the most wretched people ever here. We can’t be thankful “enough.” We don’t have “enough” awareness things will be ripped from us. Therefore, we should be placed in the nearest pit until we can be appropriately miserable.

Well, that’s my feeling, anyway.

So, Pollyanna was clueless and naïve of me. Sarah was too negative. No matter what I felt, it was wrong. Too much. Not enough. I was too cavalier, then I was too sensitive. I wasn’t life-affirming enough; then I didn’t think enough about the fragility of life and death matters enough. Maddening.

Let’s get real. No one knows how to do this pandemic thing. We are all learning as we go.

Suddenly, each of us are confronted by multi-faceted fears: of our death, of losing loved ones, of losing our jobs, of being unable to pay our mortgages and rent, of never being able to return to “who we once were.” Things like “sheltering in place” and wearing masks do not eradicate those constant fears.

We can often find ourselves given to instances of being hyper-impulsive, hypersensitive, and hyper numb. We are desperate for the comforting and for the familiar. We want certainty within this threatening context of uncertain. Perfectionism, in a vain and panicky attempt to create and maintain control, abounds, as unrealistic as it is.

Shame-inducing judgments only worsen things. No one needs this right now. Really. Most of us are truly doing the best we can, even if that best is deemed “inappropriate” by another.

I’m not Pollyanna; I’m not Sarah Connor. I’m the weird, messy, in-between hybrid.

And, somehow, in your own way, I suspect you are as well.

Therefore, give yourself permission, to be this messy, uncertain hybrid. You’re doing the best you can right now.

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse