I'm okay

Here we are in the midst of a global pandemic, and....I'm okay.  Is that wrong?

I realize how privileged and fortunate I am. I have a stable job, good income, and substantial savings. I have a safe home, good food, and toilet paper. My immediate family has not been affected by the virus and, for the most part, are in similar circumstances.  I wear a mask when I'm out, wash my hands frequently, wipe down surfaces in my home, car, and other places I visit. I'm in good health. I go out only for essential trips. I don't have a young child at home that needs attention.  I am not a naturally anxious person.  I keep on top of the news, but I don't watch or read it obsessively.

I miss going to the gym. I miss seeing my colleagues at work and professional conferences. I miss running out to Target for no particular reason. I miss walking along the lake shore.

I worry about the health of my 90 year old father. I worry about the health of my 18 month old grandson. I don't want anyone to get sick.

I am angered by the confusion, miscommunication, and lack of foresight in preparing for this event. I am saddened by the, not new, realization that this disease, like so many others, affects those parts of our population with the fewest resource--people of color, people living in institutional settings, people living in poverty.

I am awed by the heroics of the medical personnel, and also the store clerks, maintenance workers, bus drivers, and others who continue to do their jobs in incredibly difficult circumstances.

But, I'm okay.  And I feel a little guilty about that.

Resilience

Resilience has become a cool buzzword in popular psychology lately, thanks to Angela Duckworth's book, "Grit."  I have not read it, but I've heard Duckworth interviewed several times.  I imagine it is a good book.

I've been thinking about resilience lately as I see people around me dealt horrible hands.  A colleague who has a daughter with a genetic, terminal disease loses her husband to cancer. A friend loses the love of her life to a freak medical anomaly. Another former colleague loses her husband to a long illness and now her son-in-law to an unexpected health crisis, and she has a disabled adult daughter.

What amazes me is that most of us carry on after these tragedies.  We are grief stricken, sad, miserable, angry, and all those things.  But we keep putting one foot in front of the other, we muddle through.  Sure, we make mistakes, we forget things, we lash out, we lie in bed and cry, but, for the most part, we survive. It seems pretty incredible that as humans we have the capacity to have such deep feelings of sadness and still survive.  Of course, some people become bitter or withdrawn, some find they can't cope with the pain and dull it with substances or end the pain with their own death.  But, most carry on.

Even those of us spared the most horrific of tragedies have found ourselves in situations of great sadness, or times when we have had to do things we never imagined ourselves being able to do. Somehow we do them, we find some great reserve of strength and expend it. At times we are called upon to find even deeper reserves, and they, surprisingly are there.  Today I find it incredible, the things I've done that I never thought I could do, but I am even more amazed by those around me who have gone so much further and have further yet to go.