The way we were

In the first two weeks of lockdown, many jokes and humorous videos circulated on social media: an aerobic workout using all those toilet paper rolls you hoarded, cleaning your shelves while practising rock climbing, all the creative ways to make a mask, and funny songs for washing your hands. Recently, there have been fewer here in Italy. The excitement and novelty of finding ways to stay sane while locked in your home are wearing off.

I’ve heard this experience of the pandemic likened to the stages of grieving (a model framed by Kübler-Ross): Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. On closer inspection, I can see how this could be applied to my experience here in Italy since the outbreak in China.  Most referred to the initial outbreak as fake news, a sinister plot, or simply as the ‘Chinese virus’ that was like the flu and this persisted even after the cases started to rise in Italy. Denial might also be applied to the first week of the national lock-down when the jokes, music from windows, children’s rainbows and slogans bolstered a mood of patriotic tenacity and adventurous endurance reflecting a sense of momentary unreality which could be shouldered with a positive attitude.

The second stage, Anger, has been displayed publicly and virtually, when large groups gathered on ski slopes and thousands boarded trains for points south right before lockdown and at the lack of medical aid and support to Italy by other EU countries, and the horrific conditions in the hospitals having to cope with too many patients and too few respirators, medical staff dying and ethical decisions having to be made as to who lives and who dies. Recently, an angry young Italian doctor asked for no more applause from windows – the conditions are appalling, too many cuts have left a health system in tatters, too many politicians have undervalued the need for good universal medical care. Sound familiar?

Here at home, my anger has been directed towards the leaders of two countries where I have friends and most of my family, the UK and the US. Even with the foresight given them by the Asian and Italian experiences, these politicians have been in criminal denial about the seriousness of COVID-19. A few days ago, I heard about my sister-in-law’s best friend who has all the symptoms but was not given a test because there aren’t any. Have you heard the recent joke that goes: “If you think you have the coronavirus, cough in a rich person’s face and wait for the results”? More real than funny now.

Every day holds moments of Bargaining, trying to find meaning in this experience even as I write, reaching out to others in our family and community of friends, especially those whom we know are vulnerable. The wanting to believe that this experience will give us a chance to reflect. That perhaps we will realise that we are stronger when we work together in love, than fight alone with hate. That perhaps we will appreciate the value of clean air, clean water, a world with less noise pollution and will come to understand the value of curbing global climate change. That perhaps we will choose to strive towards a vision for a more peaceful or cleaner or tolerant or just world instead of blindly following our allegiances to one political party over another.

And most recently, I feel a sense of futility that is the familiar torment of one who has struggled most of her life with depression and anxiety.  The reasons are many: the rising death toll; the lack of control over who will be hit next; the huge continents of poorer countries whose health systems make ours look like gold. Those with mental illnesses, some of my friends amongst them, in lockdown cut off from crucial support. Those with no health insurance, like the teenager in the US who was denied care and died. Those grieving alone. The list goes on. This pandemic is so much greater and its impact will be so much vaster than anything I’ve experienced in my lifetime. I’m not sure there will be any going back to the way we were.

These feelings, or this ‘stage,’ will pass… and then perhaps come around again, like picking up dropped stitches when darning a hole. They are part of a process and, in my experience, processes whether they be creative, learning or therapeutic are almost never linear. They spiral and snake like a tangled knot which with patience or perseverance (or both) will open up, almost magically.

Even so, it is useful to think of the process of grieving as applying to some of the emotions we are feeling during this time even if we are unsure right now what we are or will be grieving for. By the end of this pandemic, most of us will have lost loved ones, some have already lost their jobs, a good number of people have lost their trust in government to keep us safe, in individuals and businesses to behave ethically for the greater good rather than selfishly for their own profit, and most in the world will have lost a level of freedom and comfort they took for granted. Although many of us think we can go back to ‘the way we were,’ I can’t imagine it will be possible. I lost my brother in a bicycle accident when he was fifteen; my family didn’t just go back to life as normal. Grieving put Life into a different perspective.

I’m not sure what the final stage will look like – Acceptance. Of course, we will have to accept that this pandemic will have happened and will have changed the world. I’d like to think, however, that this acceptance will not just involve moving on with business as usual, but that on individual, communal, national and global levels new options will be explored that are more equitable and less destructive to our planet.

I’m astounded by human resilience. This resilience includes humour, flexibility, perspicacity, cooperation, resourcefulness, determination, imagination and boundless creativity. In this I trust.