Pandemic Angst: Who’s Helping the Helpers?
Mental health counselors like me are risking our lives
We were already several months into the pandemic when I suddenly realized that I was living a crisis of my own. As a medical social worker, I was in work mode, just doing what was being required of me. People thanked me, much like a military member is thanked for their service. Inside my mind, however, I would roll my eyes and think that I was just doing my job.
Being finally scheduled for my Covid-19 vaccination came with an unexpected torrent of tears. In hindsight, it seems obvious that working with patients who have Covid-19 had been a terribly stressful time. Aristotle had asked if a bloody warrior feels proud of his wounds. I think the answer is probably not. I had been so deeply absorbed in helping everyone else survive the stress of the global pandemic that I’d forgotten to help myself.
As a licensed clinical social worker, I work for a hospital system. My job is to visit patients’ homes to assist with community resources and emotional well-being after they are discharged from the hospital. I regularly wear full protective gear while I visit patients who are home recovering from Covid-19. I also have my own part-time business as a mental health therapist, and with the stresses of the pandemic, the counseling business is a booming industry.
One-Sided Compassion
My role as a compassionate confidante at both of my jobs suits me well. I have chosen a profession that allows me to use my gifts and to feel fulfilled at work. Covid-19 eventually revealed to me that my approach to my work was problematic. It wasn’t until I was on the verge of being vaccinated, that I realized I had been doing a terrific job taking care of everyone else and a terrible job supporting my own surreal and traumatizing experience.
I’m going to let you in on a guilty secret. While I dedicated my life to helping others, I never imagined this would include risking my own life. The risking of one’s life seemed reserved for the “real” heroes, such as soldiers and firefighters. I am a very kind person who believes in helping others, but when the pandemic started, I did not want to go into the homes of patients with Covid-19. The words, “I didn’t sign up for this,” did cross my mind.
Many Americans are working from home these days, but that was not an option for my job as a medical social worker. My job allows some video visits, but the reality is that video technology is not usually appropriate for the elderly and low-income populations whom I serve. I was not given the option to work from home. My choice was to lose my paycheck or to try to keep myself as safe as possible by wearing the personal protective equipment I was so fortunate to receive for the purpose of seeing patients in their homes.
Since my other job is that of a private practice mental health counselor, I was charged with helping other community members manage the stresses of the pandemic. I specialize in teens and adults, and months went by with my private practice full of people who did not know how they were going to survive the effects of the pandemic. Like many Americans, my therapy clients are experiencing unprecedented stress resulting in unusually high levels of anxiety and depression. Week after week I showed up for my clients, validating their feelings, assisting with strategizing how they could “steal” their own moments of sanity, and by being there to bear witness to their suffering. This is what a good therapist does.
We Were All Just Surviving
Depression and anxiety often arise when a factor in our lives doesn’t match up with who we truly are inside. Normally this could be related to people-pleasing, choosing a job or marriage someone else wanted for us, being mistreated by someone in our lives, etc. But in a pandemic, it seems nothing about this situation matches up with who we truly are inside. Who we truly are, is someone who wants to stay alive. The pandemic threatens our safety.
Here I was literally risking my life every day going into patients’ homes as their medical social worker, and in the evening, I was holding up my community as their therapist and shoulder to cry on. I heard myself say things to clients like, “I can see that this is so hard for you. And it may not feel like it, but you are managing the pandemic stress in an extraordinary way. You are a hero.”
But who was saying this to me?
I’m not writing this to blame anyone for not supporting me as an essential worker. It is my job as a person in a helping profession to seek support and take care of myself. But the day I got scheduled for the Covid-19 vaccination, those unexpected tears came hard and fast. I realized that I had been through months of petrifying work conditions, never having acknowledged what I was going through. I’m also not blaming myself here. If my tears were unexpected, I clearly did not realize the burden I had been carrying until there was a possibility of it being lifted.
Lessons From My One-Sided Helping
I imagine that the way I managed the pandemic, choosing to take care of everyone else besides me, speaks to the way I was managing my role as a helping professional all along. For many of us, our pandemic experience magnified the issues with how we were living previously. In this way, it was a gift. I had previously thought that getting exercise, taking time off work, doing yoga, and practicing meditation were my tools for self-care. But it turns out those are just my regular tools for healthy living.
When met with the stress of a global pandemic, if I am to be a true helper, I need to seek out the largest support system I can muster — one that mirrors the magnitude of my situation. Part of that is just telling my story. And to tell my story, I first need to acknowledge it. In doing so, I am making room for my own grief. As my clients tell me their stories to help ease their burden, I need to seek outlets to tell mine.
So here I am. And thank you so much for listening.
