It’s been a year since the world shifted into life in Pandemic. Last April, I wrote about one similarity I found between this (The Pandemic: It’s a marathon not a sprint) and living with chronic illness.
Now, many months later, I’m focusing on a glimmer of light. I’m feeling a smidgeon of hope for a positive outcome that could come from this.
Here’s the thing. It’s impressive what fear can make a person do. Difficult as it’s been, most people have followed the health expert recommendations to stay at home – – if they’re fortunate enough to have the option. Even with the rapidly changing information and varying guidelines, one thing that’s been clear is that shelter in place plays a key role in keeping you safe from Covid-19. The only people I know who happy to hunker down are self-described social introverts and they prefer being alone.
Operating in a world where health safety guidelines have been scant, inaccurate and often contradictory has presented an unexpected challenge. This void forces each of us to decide for ourselves what we should and shouldn’t do to stay safe from getting sick.
Questions you wouldn’t have dreamed of have become common, such as,
Is it safe to go to the Gym since it’s open again?
Should I stay home from work today so I won’t be in physical contact with others – even though I could lose my job?
Can I be with my family on this holiday when my brother-in-law won’t wear a mask, won’t get tested and could infect me?
You can easily slide into a sinkhole, spending hours ruminating over what’s best for you, wondering what will keep you safe. It can be toxic when none of the options make you happy.
This is familiar ground when you live with waxing/waning, chronically difficult health. I knew how she felt when my client said, “I’m going to let it rip the next time someone complains that they want a clear mandate whether it’s safe to go to a restaurant, visit their kids, or go to work. Welcome to my world.”
There is nothing easy about living with chronically difficult health. It means that, among other things, there is a constant state of uncertainty hovering in the background. To start, there’s no predicting for sure the course of anyone’s illness. But what can really wear you down are the daily decisions you’re forced to make if you want to stay engaged in the world. That is, if you choose not to stay in permanent, shelter in place, mode.
But engaging with others can bring questions, such as,
How will I know if I’ll feel better or worse if I drag myself to work today?
What will I do — what can I say — if I show up at the birthday party and, out of the blue, this pain becomes intolerable?
I can barely keep my head up but can I push past this to go to my daughter’s basketball game?
When I first started working with people living with chronic illness, I looked for a way to make the decision-making process easier. So I created charts to help my clients establish symptom baselines and outcomes. This can be useful for some people and in some circumstances. But often there are too many variables. The results are richer when you learn to:
- Set realistic expectations for you and others,
- Notice your anxiety and disappointment and breathe,
- Talk to and comfort yourself.
Yet we don’t live in a bubble. We inevitably face others who don’t like our choices. Just like we’ve seen in the Pandemic with the Covid police, already difficult decisions become even messier when others disagree or become angry with your choices.
It’s deeply painful to miss things that you care about. That ache in your heart grows raw when the people around you challenge what you do to keep your body and mind as healthy as possible. It can be gut wrenching (or infuriating) to be told,
If you really care about getting the work done, you’d be at work today.
If you really wanted to, you’d come to watch my game today.
You always push yourself to do everything else and then you’re too tired to go out to dinner with me.
I hope the shared experience of living with a lack of physical safety and constant uncertainty will bring one positive change. That those who return to a world that feels safe will accept the choices that we, the ones who can’t go back, must make.
No one chooses this life. Are you flying solo, without a map or a parachute? Are there times when your best option is to shelter in place, holding the belief that there will be another day? How’s it going for you?
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