Surviving The Aftermath: Coronavirus Diary
Time means nothing right now.
It’s been three days since I’ve opened my journal though it feels like it was just yesterday that my pen scribbled an update to myself about the coronavirus and our state’s Stay At Home order.
It’s hard to believe it’s now almost been two months since I wrote in that book about my excitement and preparation for our upcoming tour and a very busy performance season. It was just a few days later that news broke about SXSW, the massive music/film/tech fest and one of our tour stops, canceling due to the threat of the virus. We didn’t know at the time how substantial this crisis would become but it was clear that this was significant and that we were in trouble.
Some of us took the warnings seriously. Why didn’t everyone? When health, our basic need as a living specimen, is threatened, who would dare not to pay attention? Who would dare to say that others are exaggerating and blowing the cautionary advice out of proportion? With little to no scientific or medical training, who would dare to decide that they knew what was best when it came to protecting (or not protecting) their own kind? A matter of survival?
We are now approaching three months since knowing about the first eleven reported coronavirus cases in the United States (though it’s predicted that it’s been here longer) and at the time of writing this entry, we are now nearing 1,000,000 confirmed cases with at least 54,000+ confirmed deaths due to COVID-19. West Michigan is just starting to see it’s peak. States are already re-opening and I’m definitely worried that it’s too soon. We still don’t have adequate testing. World Health Organization officials have said from the beginning that a large percentage of those infected are asymptomatic. It’s even more troubling that even if someone isn’t showing typical symptoms, the disease can still ravage the brain and other organs, causing strokes in otherwise young and healthy adults.
And yet, people still ignore the warnings. With more accessible information than ever before, people are either having a difficult time utilizing their critical thinking skills or choosing not to do it at all…especially with such a lack of faith in the government and our leader suggesting dangerous and unsubstantiated treatments for the virus while banks hand over small buisness loans to large corporations.
Our Stay At Home order has been extended to May 15th in Michigan. With our peak expected to land in that time frame, some orders already lifted and other states extending to June, I won’t be surprised if our order gets extended again. Watching our numbers rise, I hope it does. Things will never snap right back to the way they were and frankly, shouldn’t. I understand missing the life that we had. I miss working and am grieving live music. I miss enjoying the company of my family, my friends, traveling and eating at restaurants BUT without proper testing and vaccinations, none of it matters. Opening everything too soon would be a grave mistake.
So how am I doing?
I guess I’m okay. While my emotions have certainly left me in a dark tailspin much of the last 6 weeks, I’ve found a bit of distraction and glimmer of hope in books and in podcasts that have been recorded since the pandemic. I can’t remember exactly which but one of the recordings mentioned how the people who are most prepared mentally and emotionally for a crisis are typically those who have been through one before.
The most substantial devastation in my life was escaping my apartment fire in 2008. While it may seem like a bit of a stretch to find common ground between a fire and a pandemic, it’s actually quite basic: both are major life-threatening emergencies in which you have no control over. Both leave a devastating aftermath in their wake and your only job is to stay alert and protect yourself and those around you.
You just have to survive.
Perhaps you cannot ascribe the same formula to every disaster scenario but in my experience, there are four stages. The first is a quiet, calm warning. The second is frantic preparation. Then we have the event; it ramps up and you find yourself in fight or flight mode (in this case, for some of us, our fight mode means just to stay home and practice social distancing.) This third stage feels like an eternity when you’re in the thick of it; a slow-motion picture of the unfolding. When it is finally over, we’re left wondering where the time escaped to but what comes next is the aftermath. The cleanup. The processing. The PTSD.
The aftermath may be the worst part. It’s the actualization of the damage that was done. It’s when we take a closer look at the people we were trying to protect while in fight or flight mode. It’s when we question motives and dissect the action or inaction of everyone who played a part. We’re left to pick up the pieces physically, emotionally and financially. This part takes longer than the warnings, the preparations and the actual event itself.
It’s the time you realize how massive the destruction was and finding healthy ways to cope will be a difficult feat.
The good news, however, is that we are extraordinarily adaptive and if we survive, life will go on, albeit differently.
And probably for the better.
A forest fire, in the wake of it’s destruction, burns through old vegetation to lend rich nutrients to the soil.
Much like a fire, the affects that a devastation can have on us can burn through old ideas and unsustainable and cruel practices to help us better understand who we are, what is important to us, what we truly need to survive and what we want our future to look like. It will force us to look around and take notice of the changes we need to make. Our egos will be checked and we will be reminded that we are not and will never be in total control.
With destruction comes enlightenment, exposing hard truths and shining spotlights onto love, empathy and compassion.
It always gets worse before it get better but the nutrients from this fire can fuel positive changes that we all desperately need to see.
We just have to survive.
