Winter Reflection: Pandemic Burnout
It’s the second week of March and I’m finding myself surprised by how fast it’s come this year. But when I think back to March 2020, it feels like so long ago. Around this time two years ago, I was preparing for a live presentation that was scheduled for March 13th. At the time, I worked full time for a community mental health agency where I visited my client families in their homes for sessions. There was a little buzz going around about the “novel coronavirus”, but I was too busy to take too much notice. Anxious to get the presentation out of the way, hopping from house to house, there was no way of knowing what the next week, months or years would look like.
The day before the presentation, work shifted to remote overnight. I was relieved on that front, I didn’t have to present - but completely thrown by our rapidly changing routines. Between then and now, there have been so many ups and downs, and more tragedies and traumas than I could ever mention. For so many of us, constant anxiety gives way to numbness, even hopelessness, then to more anxiety, glimmers of hopefulness, and surely even some beautiful moments sprinkled in. Only to repeat, again and again: as each variant emerged and claimed more lives, disrupted more people, and impacted us in ways that were expected and unexpected. Life before feels so unfamiliar at this point. How did I ever walk into a client’s home, unmasked? How did I have the energy to do that demanding job when right now working from home feels like the maximum possible?
It seems as though the pandemic has rewired our minds. I always thought I’d want an office, to see clients face-to-face in a calming, serene space, and maybe I will someday. But right now, I’m staying put. Our entire conception around online mental health has shifted. We think differently. In some ways good, in some ways perhaps less helpful that we ought to. What I notice is a sense of widespread weariness. A sense of trepidation, resentment towards the universe, and some serious fatigue. I’m asking myself the question of how we face pandemic burnout, given the uncertainty and exhaustion we’re all still feeling.
I can never know the answer for sure, as I am living through this difficult moment in history the same as you. But I do want to help, to show care and compassion. One thing that stands out is that it matters when we can normalize the heaviness someone is feeling. If I can invite some common humanity and even commiseration to the conversation, I do believe there can be a positive effect. It doesn’t “fix” the problems we are facing. It may merely AND powerfully make our experiences just that little bit easier to hold. To bring care not to take suffering away, which is impossible, but just because it hurts.
Naming what “is” has always been an empowering practice that allows us to acknowledge, feel and reflect on our reality. One aspect of pandemic burnout I’ve been naming a lot lately is decision fatigue. The “day-to-day risk calculus” is more nuanced than ever before. In many ways, this is more difficult psychologically than earlier in the pandemic where physical health was top priority. Now that our emotional and social health is suffering, we’ve had to make choices to balance our needs like never before. I know I feel this when deciding if it’s the “right call” to eat at a restaurant, or attend an event. It’s understandable and I know we’re all doing our best to care for ourselves and each other.
Focusing on what I can control in the midst of the uncontrollable is something I often try to do and suggest others do. Conscious media consumption has been a phrase on my lips all year. Focusing on what you love, recognizing your accomplishments, no matter how small. Conscious attention to sleep, nourishment and connection are all things we can influence. Even if these things help lighten the burden just that little bit, it’s worth it. You’re worth it!
Feel your difficult feelings, and also don’t forget to cultivate hope. Something I always return to is the reality that post traumatic growth happens all the time. Painful experiences and emotions often lead us to deeper self-awareness, which facilitates a connection to our values and what makes life meaningful. I feel hopeful when I celebrate a client’s progress, and when I witness someone's strength and courage to show up for themselves in a new way. I feel humbled and grateful to have these experiences as part of my work, and believe that each of us can cultivate some form of hopefulness if we set ourselves the task.
It’s obvious, but important to recognize that this pandemic has touched every aspect of our lives. Relationships, work, mental health, and how we see the world. Sure there are tips out there and some I’ve shared about here, but most of all I’d like to send a message that I see you, that this is still challenging two years in, and that how you feel makes so much sense.
Sending compassion to all beings everywhere.
