Good Grief
Grief is weird.
Moments after I clicked through an Instagram “flashback” from two years ago, I went out for a walk. Within minutes, my eyes welled up with inexplicable tears that were threatening to spill over.
“What gives?” I thought, nearly laughing at myself for this untimely reaction. Nowadays, I am caught off guard when I cry. Once a frequent crier and now far more withdrawn, I couldn’t help wondering why I was suddenly plagued with emotions, especially upon stepping out into the fresh air and sunshine that so often center me emotionally.
I suspect it was the video I’d just watched, though my reaction felt outsized for the content. The flashback was simply a clip of my boyfriend pouring pancake mix onto a griddle in his childhood home, innocuous and sweet. I take videos of him like this all the time, but I figured it was the time stamp that stirred something within me.
Watching the video came with a tinge of nostalgia for those early weeks of the pandemic where we ‘boomeranged’ back with our families, revisiting old pastimes as we were brought together by the unexpected circumstances. At that point two years ago, we were leaning heavily into stay-at-home orders— unearthing decades-old puzzles, washing our groceries, binging “Tiger King” on Netflix, and watching as the celebrities tried their hand at relatability by singing “Imagine” in their unrelatably enormous homes.
Scared as we were, there was also this sense of ‘might as well make the most of it.’ Though it was certainly isolative in many ways, it also forced closeness and quality time that many of us would have otherwise overlooked. Looking back to that time came with a mix of gratitude and awe that two years had already passed.
I often hear people speak of the “Groundhog Day” syndrome, or the motif that every day feels the same during the pandemic. Yet with that video, there was proof before me that time had indeed gone by. In fact, so much has changed, but I have yet to take inventory of it all. Survival mode has been the default.
We have been in flux personally and collectively — adapting, adapting, adapting. Our perceptions of safety have ebbed and flowed with waves of variants and ever-changing political tides, leading many of us to a point of exhaustion: occupationally, financially, emotionally, physically, or all the above.
Speaking for myself, this exhaustion and the emotional ‘constipation’ that followed occurred early on. I figure it was and is self-preservation, but I distinctly remember the moment when my feelings became dammed off. I went for a run on an unseasonably warm day in April after confirming that I would not be celebrating my Master’s graduation alongside my peers. Even then, it felt silly to be sad about that when others were losing their loved ones and the virus was doing far worse than interrupting parties.
Regardless, it was a turning point for me. I knew that there was far more uncertainty ahead, and weathering that would take fortitude. My running came to a halt and I doubled over, overcome with emotions that I don’t have words for, but the tears wouldn’t come. The numbness has mostly stayed that way since, sparing for other large events like the unexpected loss of a friend or grandparent. Needless to say, I have plenty of grieving and healing to do.
I share that not to elicit sympathy or “trauma dump”, but rather as a signpost for the moment I knew surviving and coping would take stamina. I read recently that it can often take up to 18–24 months to begin healing emotionally after a loss. Of course, this number varies from person to person and grief especially looks different for everyone, but in any case, it gave me pause.
It makes sense, then, that these reminders from the beginning of the pandemic (e.g. photos, videos, that random canister of instant coffee in your pantry from when Dalgona coffee was a thing)— and the amalgamation of feelings that accompany them — may only be just beginning to crop up, seemingly at random, demanding to be felt.
With renewed awareness that healing is often a long and arduous journey, I imagine (hah, get it?) this recent emotional breakthrough will not be the last for me. As I said, the particular trigger that inspired this was from the early days of the pandemic, so I can safely assume there is plenty more where that came from. Bearing that in mind, I want to be better prepared moving forward. I intend to use these likely inevitable ‘prompts’ as opportunities to process the feelings I haven’t yet been able to reckon with or articulate.
This pandemic — and all that has accompanied it — have been a large, unwarranted undertaking, and that is not something to take lightly. For many, there is a sense of loss or limitation to pivotal years and moments of life. Celebratory life transitions such as graduating college, marriage, children, moving states, etc. were delayed or shrunken with tragedy and uncertainty often casting a shadow on them. Or worse, you may have lost loved ones, work, or other aspects of your life and identity that you cherished.
Like the puzzle pieces we sifted through on top of our dining room tables, there are so many things to piece together and sort through about this period of our lives. It’s hard to know where to begin, but as these reminders of what we have been through in recent years continue to come through, it is important that we give ourselves the room to heal.
For now, the big picture is that you are still alive and reading this. That is more than enough, and something to be grateful for. Breathe. There will be (and already has) been pressure to push forward and put the pandemic behind us as quickly as possible, but I encourage you to give yourself grace in this process. Consider investing in some metaphorical rain gear (read: healthy coping mechanisms) so you can weather the occasional sprinkling or downpour of feelings.
Here are a few ideas:
- Embrace those feelings as they arise! Much to my dismay, repressing them often doesn’t help. At least not in the long term. Let me be your cautionary tale that they will find a way to bubble up. Better to let it rip.
- If you’re not sure how you feel, consider a mindfulness practice, journaling, or other creative outlet to draw them out. Believe me, they are in there!
- If you have the opposite problem and need more space from the feelings, treat the feelings like visitors. They only become tenants when we give them attention and identify with them. Find ways to create distance by reminding yourself they are temporary, and only welcome as long as you allow.
- Seek or go back to mental health services if that is something you find beneficial. Psychology Today’s “Find a Therapist” feature is a good place to start.
- You might even revisit those hobbies you tried or positive habits that you attempted early on. Pivoting away from attention-burning distractions like social media can give you more space to evaluate and make sense of things.
- Remind yourself as often as needed all the ways you have built resilience in the past several years. You are living proof that you can endure, and you will persist.
No matter how you cope and endure, I hope you know your grief is valid and deserves to be treated as such, wherever and whenever it appears.
