A Paused Life
She was crying uncontrollably even though she knew her friend disliked seeing her cry on video. She continued trying to speak through her sobs, “What if I die here alone?” She sensed her friend’s discomfort as she shifted uncomfortably on the bed.
She struggled with her words but finally said… “You are trying to stay safe and that counts.” She looked worn out. The conversation itself seemed like a task. This was the fourth time in a month that she was having to witness her friend’s live breakdown over a video call. She was concerned, but helpless. She didn’t know how to piece the right words together to make her feel better. The efforts were starting to take a toll on her now. But it felt rude to disconnect. It felt unempathetic. It felt like betrayal.
Fortunately, we have many that speak at length about the struggles of living with a mental illness. Or about the effects of deteriorating or strained mental health on a person. Just like it deserves to be spoken about.
But lately, I have been thinking about the real unsung heroes — The caregivers. The ones who stand by your side through every meltdown, support you through all the ups and downs and share their strength when you can’t muster any of your own. There is enough literature out there on caregiver burden and burnout. But this blog stems from my own observation of my family and loved ones, and how they have, over time, faced a compassion fatigue towards my waxing and waning mental health states.
It can be difficult living in a house, locked up, confined to your four walls with your thoughts keeping you company. I think it wouldn’t be a stretch to state that this pandemic has brought out the worst in all of us over time. The exhaustion of survival.
She had woken up sweating again before she picked up the phone to call her friend. Her heart was racing and she was just beginning to realize it’d been another nightmare. She looked around. The night was still, the city was sound asleep. She took a deep breath and looked at her phone. 3 AM. The time when the monsters took over. She could feel the looming presence of death around her. What if she was next? What if her family couldn’t beat the odds back home? They said everyone would be affected. She tried to calculate the cost of health care. She gasped as she suddenly felt a touch on her shoulders…. “They are out to get me, and there is no escape”.
Living with health anxiety during a pandemic can be agonizing. Along with the burden of your own thoughts about the future and the weight of every news of death and illness weighing you down, your body could even begin to mimic signs and symptoms at its convenience. The mind has always had its hold over your body. The current scenario seems endless and hopeless and such a situation could mentally push you into an apathetic state, where even grief can’t touch you.
I began writing roughly more than a year back. Although all of us are living through a collective ‘Déjà vu’ this year, I can clearly distinguish ‘me’ from this time, last year around. I began writing as a way to cathart my confinement to the house, after being ungracefully snatched away from a place I was starting to love and people who felt like home. This year, I write because I want to, because I have missed the emotional release I felt after speaking my truth.
While last year, I was free enough to discover new hobbies, this year, I have been caught up in the rut of chaos and hectic schedules and I write in order to be able to reach out, maybe let someone know they are not alone. Maybe let myself know that I am trying my best to be of help to this burning world. Not a day goes by when I don’t attune myself to my health anxiety and my fear of death, when I don’t notice the exhaustion of my loved ones in attending to my anxieties, when I don’t notice the grief and loss and apathy-stricken humans all around me. So to everyone who feels the same as me out there, I see you.
Here is a sprinkle of truth. These are difficult times, there is no denying it. We have lost our sense of normality, we have lost our plans and goals, our dreams, our abilities, our people, anything that could be dear to us. There is no space for toxic positivity or unfounded optimism. Fear and grief are feelings that are here to stay for a while. And it will get overwhelming……before it gets a bit better again. But there are things each of us can do to help ourselves feel grounded and more in touch with reality while also being there for others without letting it drain oneself. Everyday could feel like a rollercoaster of emotions… And I wish I could attach a 5-step plan to deal with it systematically. But I can’t. There is no linear recovery process here. But if it helps, know that this rollercoaster you are feeling — it is normal. It is valid. It is overwhelming.
Try your best to accept this truth. Do anything that helps you. Try to be there for others when you feel ready to pour into others, take a step back when you notice your own cup is draining. Ask for what you want and let yourself know that there is no right way to deal with a global pandemic. Be gentle on yourself and take it one day at a time. And slowly and gradually…you will see that you can go back to your old self again. That things will get better. That this too shall pass.
Her friend noticed her breathing heavy. She suddenly burst into a smile. “So I guess it is time to stalk your crush again at 3AM?”. They both laughed. Thank God for friendships, right?
