When Life Won't Go Back to "Normal" After the Pandemic
Heather McCain
A few nights ago, a man ironically wearing a "Good Vibes" T-shirt, angrily huffed, "I can't wait for this crap to be over" in my direction as we waited in the cold for our pick-up orders.
Honestly, I didn't blame him for his really-not-good vibes. I know people are irritated. Their lives have been disturbed. It is really hard having to tip-toe around life, trying to keep yourself and those you love safe from something you can't detect.
"Yeah," I replied softly, offering an invisible, yet sympathetic smile beneath my mask. Immediately my mind drifted to my boy at home, how we've been living this life of tip-toeing around germs and sickness and gatherings and all of the dangers to his immune system for nearly fifteen years.
There have been so many times during his life where I felt our family was invisible. It was like, after his first seizure at three months old, everything came to this screeching halt in our lives. Then, we slowly started moving forward again in slow motion, accumulating multiple diagnosis', while the world buzzed and moved and continued on without us.
Suddenly, the world has joined us in being extra mindful, with an amplified awareness of danger and mortality. I sometimes wonder if when this is all said and done, our family and families like ours will be more understood. If others will be more willing to join us in our fight for rights and resources, and more understanding when we decline an invite for the fifth time in a row or don't show up for Christmas dinner (again) because our child's immune system just can't handle the crowd. I hope that remote positions will be more widely available for full time caregivers, and that more companies continue to understand the need for family friendly employers.
Unfortunately, this pandemic also means that we are watching our loved ones, neighbors, and strangers try to learn to cope with the fear, uncertainty, and outright burnout and fatigue that comes with the territory of job loss, children that can't attend school, mental illness, financial struggles, and loneliness.
Honestly, I didn't blame him for his really-not-good vibes. I know people are irritated. Their lives have been disturbed. It is really hard having to tip-toe around life, trying to keep yourself and those you love safe from something you can't detect.
"Yeah," I replied softly, offering an invisible, yet sympathetic smile beneath my mask. Immediately my mind drifted to my boy at home, how we've been living this life of tip-toeing around germs and sickness and gatherings and all of the dangers to his immune system for nearly fifteen years.
There have been so many times during his life where I felt our family was invisible. It was like, after his first seizure at three months old, everything came to this screeching halt in our lives. Then, we slowly started moving forward again in slow motion, accumulating multiple diagnosis', while the world buzzed and moved and continued on without us.
Suddenly, the world has joined us in being extra mindful, with an amplified awareness of danger and mortality. I sometimes wonder if when this is all said and done, our family and families like ours will be more understood. If others will be more willing to join us in our fight for rights and resources, and more understanding when we decline an invite for the fifth time in a row or don't show up for Christmas dinner (again) because our child's immune system just can't handle the crowd. I hope that remote positions will be more widely available for full time caregivers, and that more companies continue to understand the need for family friendly employers.
Unfortunately, this pandemic also means that we are watching our loved ones, neighbors, and strangers try to learn to cope with the fear, uncertainty, and outright burnout and fatigue that comes with the territory of job loss, children that can't attend school, mental illness, financial struggles, and loneliness.
It has been completely heartbreaking, and at times, most of the time, I want to reach out and say, "It is going to be okay. This can be done. Look at us. Families like ours. We are doing it. We have been doing it. It is hard, but we are making it. You can, too."
Other times, just once in a blue moon when I'm feeling irritated and lonely myself, I selfishly want to ask, "Do you see us now?"
Sadly, similar to the struggles medical families often experience, Coronavirus will leave in it's wake too much irreparable damage for the heart to bear - death, chronic health issues, businesses and homes gone forever, permanent job losses, and so much more. Right now, it seems hard to imagine that it will end and that when it does, normalcy will slowly be restored. Maybe not the same normal - hopefully not, actually - but, some kind of normal. The world will buzz again. It will move and continue on for most, while for others, it will seem to be going on without them - for the first time, or once again.
As for us, we will continue to avoid colds or a seasonal flu the same way most of the population avoids Coronavirus. We will continue to sanitize, tip-toe, and make our way in a world not designed for our circumstances. Our lives won't go "back to normal," because, truly, our routine hasn't changed much over the past several months.
And as for those who are reeling from the sudden and unexpected changes in routine and life overall, I hope they will take moments to remember what they have gained as they grieve what they have lost this year. This year, millions of people learned they could adapt and overcome. They learned that unexpected and impossible are not the same.
We so often hear the phrase, "I don't know how you do it," from loved ones, but I think now, maybe they'll understand a little better that you just keep moving - even if it's in slow motion, even when it's hard, even when life's curveballs are coming at you from every direction. You just keep moving, and loving, and taking note of the things you gain along the way.
Other times, just once in a blue moon when I'm feeling irritated and lonely myself, I selfishly want to ask, "Do you see us now?"
Sadly, similar to the struggles medical families often experience, Coronavirus will leave in it's wake too much irreparable damage for the heart to bear - death, chronic health issues, businesses and homes gone forever, permanent job losses, and so much more. Right now, it seems hard to imagine that it will end and that when it does, normalcy will slowly be restored. Maybe not the same normal - hopefully not, actually - but, some kind of normal. The world will buzz again. It will move and continue on for most, while for others, it will seem to be going on without them - for the first time, or once again.
As for us, we will continue to avoid colds or a seasonal flu the same way most of the population avoids Coronavirus. We will continue to sanitize, tip-toe, and make our way in a world not designed for our circumstances. Our lives won't go "back to normal," because, truly, our routine hasn't changed much over the past several months.
And as for those who are reeling from the sudden and unexpected changes in routine and life overall, I hope they will take moments to remember what they have gained as they grieve what they have lost this year. This year, millions of people learned they could adapt and overcome. They learned that unexpected and impossible are not the same.
We so often hear the phrase, "I don't know how you do it," from loved ones, but I think now, maybe they'll understand a little better that you just keep moving - even if it's in slow motion, even when it's hard, even when life's curveballs are coming at you from every direction. You just keep moving, and loving, and taking note of the things you gain along the way.
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