In the field of social work, we talk a lot about working at both macro and micro levels to improve life for people. Micro means working with individuals as they navigate challenges; macro refers to changing systems and policies to fight those challenges at their roots. As we deal with what is very much a macro-level pandemic being experienced in its own way at very individual level, I’m thinking about people who are struggling with micro level problems that are completely unrelated to Covid-19. I’m not referring to the issues that will be very tangibly impacted, like jobs, access to food, inadequate health care, or anxiety disorders. I’m deeply concerned about all of that, but there is plenty of writing out there on that subject already and I’m grateful for it. I’m throwing a little focus on something else.
On September 10, 2001, I was several weeks into my first significant episode of clinical depression. I was a mess and making my way through each day required exhausting effort. I wasn’t experiencing things normally and innocuous interactions – like a cashier giving me a look I couldn’t discern at the grocery store – sometimes left me crying for hours for reasons I still don’t understand. It was a weird, terrible time for me.
The country changed on September 11th and I was still struggling to get out of bed. Along with everyone else I was shocked, for a brief while, and then I wasn’t. I had just moved 1,200 miles away from my family for grad school and had no local social connections, but I wasn’t afraid. I had no energy left to connect to the most monumental thing that had happened in my lifetime. I paid attention, intellectually, to the politics and the news of it, but I didn’t feel much. There was all this stuff happening around me and clearly all kinds of reactions I should have been having, but I wasn’t. I was just trying to hang on, and it had nothing to do with terrorists.
It was disorienting to be so disconnected, and to know that I was disconnected. At a time when people were trying to come together in shared experience and solidarity, I primarily felt relief that classes were canceled for a few days and I could be by myself to catch my breath. It felt so strange to see chaos playing out and feel like I was on the other side of some glass wall, not able to access any real feelings about it. To this day my memories of the days and weeks following September 11th are more about this weird feeling of disconnection than about the events themselves. It is all the more clear to me now, as I experience the moment we’re in with so much more anxiety and general engagement.
I want to send a little love to those who were experiencing the worst days of their lives before the corona virus began to wreak havoc. If you’re someone who is feeling foggy about all that is happening right now because you are already fighting your own fight, know that it is okay. Do not beat yourself up if you don’t have the energy to panic or to feel a lot of sorrow for those suffering. Take heed of the instructions to protect yourself, especially since that is the best way to also protect your community. If you are in a position to donate money to a local food bank, do that. Don’t worry about the rest – it will be what it will be. You may feel a little lonely and it may seem that your personal battles are being crowded out by this thing we cannot ignore, but I’m thinking of you. Be gentle with yourself and keep fighting, however you need to. Reach out if you want to. I’m here.