At one time or another, all parents have shared in the universal, yet painful, experience of hearing the words “Are we there yet?” It is typically uttered roughly 379 times, in a shrill, whiny fashion, before we lose it a tiny bit with whichever child cannot help themselves but ask, yet again. So it is in that spirit, that I also dare query whether or not we are there yet. Are we finally through with this discombobulated, chaotic, mass casualty dumpster fire that is 2020? Perhaps not, but like all the countless, persistent children, I cannot help but ask.
Recently I took some time to reflect a bit more on the irony of hosting a conference on adversity and resilience during the most collectively adverse year in either recent or distant memory. For many of my patients and families, as well as many of your own families, 2020 has underscored the acute on chronic nature of adversity and trauma.
Many have experienced job loss, food and housing insecurity, loss of loved ones (and the added grief of knowing some of them passed alone), illness, including COVID, and in some cases, long term sequelae–the aptly-termed “long-haulers.”
In addition, there has been loss of insurance and/or other benefits, lack of access to medical care or understandable fear of accessing care, limited ancillary support services (such as physical or occupational therapy or mental health services), especially those previously provided through schools, and lack of reliable, safe transportation.
Even for those fortunate enough to retain employment, there have been professional hurdles—especially for those working from home while moderating virtual learning, the inherent stress of homeschooling—with its tech/wifi issues and lack of available space, childcare issues for those who cannot work from home, the risk of COVID exposure as essential workers, and the very real fear of becoming ill and/or exposing others.
There are those who, like me, have not seen extended family for nearly a year, those experiencing caregiver fatigue while caring for family members with COVID or chronic illnesses (further exacerbated when trying to limit other in-home caregivers/nurses). Then there is the loss of connection with community, reduced access to green spaces, or risk of COVID while visiting them, the pandemic 15/quarantine 19 (depending upon your level of stress eating), and extreme physical and social isolation.
And while it is unfathomable that we add to this already daunting list, I would be remiss to not highlight the toxic stress manifested in times of political uncertainty, as well as violent conflict in other countries, and the 400 year war of racism that continues to wage in this country.
However, this seemingly exhaustive list of stressors is not meant to overwhelm or cause despair. Though I would be lying were I to say that there aren’t some days in which it does feel overwhelming. Honestly, there are days in which the political, social justice, and medical victories feel overshadowed by hundreds of thousands of lives lost to COVID…overshadowed by the loss of George, Breonna, Ahmaud, and countless others. But for those times when resilience feels almost unattainable and reparations seem to not be actualizable, I hope we can reflect on those who have passed and allow their memory to fuel and energize the fight ahead of us. Because in order to tackle not only the acute, pandemic-related adversity, but dive deeper to address the adversity caused by structural racism and poverty, we will need every bit of that energy.
So rest up and stock up, as masks and vaccines (not toilet paper) will be your ammo in the fight ahead. And while we aren’t there yet, I believe we will get there.
The Least Interesting Thing 