The gift of light
In the time of COVID-19, on one level or another, we’re all dealing with fear and grief. Whether we are sheltering in place, alone or with loved ones, or we’re on the front lines, our lives are being greatly impacted by this global pandemic. We’re all grappling with it on one level or another. There is no escaping this. It’s everywhere. So, it’s no wonder why so many of us are finding it difficult to do even the most simple of tasks without consternation.
Three and half weeks ago, as schools began to close and shelter in place orders started to come out across the country, our social media pages were filled with people who were doing all the things they didn’t have time to do when they were showing up at the office every day. It was as though we suddenly had a global snow day and everyone was taking advantage it. More books were being read, more art was being made, more guitars were being picked up for the first time in forever.
As each day and each subsequent week passes, as the numbers of COVID-19 victims grow exponentially, as the news becomes bleaker, as unemployment spikes, and the reality of why so many of us are staying home starts to settle in, that feeling of freedom so many felt at the beginning has started to wane. And, for many of us, the darkness settles in.
I can tell you from personal experience, that’s what happened to me.
The darkness is heavy. It’s deep. It’s overwhelming. It’s frustrating. It’s all encompassing. It’s scary.
How is it possible to feel so much deep, real pain when, looking only at my life, everything is really okay? I was frustrated with my brain for not cooperating. I was taking stock. I was doing my daily gratitude work. I was noticing all the helpers. I was seeing what was good in my life. But the pain just kept coming back. What I was feeling was deep, sorrowful grief. And it took up residence in every ounce of my being.
It started on a Friday afternoon. I felt the overwhelming need to cry. I thought about the enormity of our global situation. I thought about all of my loved ones, especially our parents, all in their 70’s and 80’s. I wanted desperately to gather everyone in, lock the door behind us, and keep us safe. And, while I can do that with our little family unit, it wasn’t possible for me to bring everyone else here, too. I felt helpless. I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. How this could be happening. And so, I cried. Full, gut wrenching sobs as I curled into the middle of our bed.
When I was done crying, I got up, reached out to some friends and family, hugged my husband and daughter, and played a family game. The laughter came easily. The joy of the moment returned.
Until it didn’t.
While I was able to find bits and pieces of joy and gratitude every day, the darkness was clouding everything. It felt like a shroud invisibly covering me, coloring everything. I could feel the heaviness of it, pressing in on me. My eyes felt heavier. My shoulders felt tighter. My jaw felt more clenched. My stomach was in knots. And that deep feeling of being punched in my stomach. I found it difficult to breathe, and checked that often by taking deep breaths, afraid I had picked something up and was physically dealing with the virus.
This past weekend was the darkest for me, yet. I went into hiding. Even though I was sleeping less, I felt like I was sleepwalking through the day. I had no interest in things that I know bring me joy.
And, in the midst of this, I saw our daughter’s face. Her own fears and confusion about the situation shining back at me. Again, I felt helpless. I couldn’t help myself, how on earth was I going to be able to help her. But, somehow, helping her was easier, much easier, than it was helping myself. I could coach her through her emotions. I could give her guidance on finding things to do that bring her joy and make her feel “normal”. I let her feel her grief and fear and frustration with grace and compassion. Me? I struggled to do that for myself.
Then, someone did for me what I had be doing for others up until this point. A friend reached out and said “I haven’t heard from you in awhile. I just want to know if you’re okay.” I wasn’t. And I told her that. She held space for me, allowing me to open up the grief I was feeling. She encouraged me to share how I was feeling with a group we’re a part of. I did. It was hard. Who am I to share what I’m going through when others have it so much worse? I can deal with this. I don’t need to burden anyone with my process.
That’s when I received the greatest gift. A reminder of what I know to be true, but very rarely put it into practice when it deals with me. We all have purpose and reason for being here. If one of us goes missing, we feel it. These friends of mine felt my absence, even after just a couple of days of going quiet. They didn’t need me to show up only when things are good. They need me to show up as me, whatever that means from moment to moment.
And that’s true for all of us. We all need to show up - no matter what. Globally, we need that. Humanity needs that. Now, and always.
We have been given a gift through this horrific pandemic. Do you see it? I do. It’s been peeking through for some time, even before the pandemic hit, but I think we can see it even more clearly now. We have an opportunity to create a new narrative for humanity. As of late, it has been one of divisiveness and anger. Even coming together has generally meant coming together to “fight” a “common enemy.” Now, my hope is we can come together in a different way. A gentler way. Focusing on what is truly most important in our lives - each other.
And it all starts with finding a spark of light in the darkness. The light may be within yourself, or may be in the form of a friend reaching out. It may be in a stranger posting something that resonates with you. It may be in a piece of art or music created by someone else who has felt the pain you’re feeling. Wherever it is, whatever it is, look for the spark of light. I promise you, it will get bigger with time.
In an effort to help reach more people with my light, beyond being a friend, I am also offering my professional services through free coaching sessions while we’re working through the pandemic. I’ve had people ask me what coaching could possibly offer someone at a time like this. Here’s what it’s offered me, and those I’ve worked with:
An opportunity to work through feelings of fear and overwhelm
The gift of self-care
Feeling grounded and centered
Clarity of thought
Release of emotion
A feeling of connectedness
Finding one’s own inner light
While coaching isn’t therapy, it does create an opportunity to clear the cobwebs from your mind and emotions, which can create forward momentum and move out from feeling stuck and helpless. I find it to be an incredibly empowering and useful tool when dealing with any type of overwhelm.
When I needed the spark of light, it was offered to me. Today, I’m holding my light high, allowing others to see it. I will use it to reach out and touch the lives of others who may need it. How are you feeling today? Is your light burning bright, or are you in need of receiving a spark? Wherever you are, I’m glad you’re here.
