Parenting Through a Pandemic: One Year Later
Well, it’s been a year. A Whole. Dang. Year. It’s both easy and hard to believe this, because in some ways it feels like it’s been ten years, and in others it’s flown by. Time flies when you’re never allowed to rest and feel safe, am I right?!
As we approach the one-year mark of being at home, it’s impossible not to reflect on everything we’ve been through, and how we’ve gotten through it. We are all unique, but we have all gotten through to this point. Wherever you are, if you’re reading this, you’ve made it to today. That is pretty amazing when you think of it.
I know that this year has been hard on everyone (except maybe Jeff Bezos). For some, there has been devastating loss on top of the stress and isolation. For some, there has been illness and hospitalization. We cannot, nor should we, compare our sufferings. All we can do is share them and take turns lending strength to one another.
For parents, it’s been a particular kind of difficult; a particular kind of lonely. No, we are not alone, really ever. We have been constantly surrounded by people, in fact, however tiny. And yet, the loneliness remained. For me, mothering has always relied on community; on that group of moms who understood me, those friends whose hugs and laughs sustained me, and the help of family members to keep me sane. Then, one day, poof! Gone. The faces are only seen through the screen, the conversations don’t include an arm around the shoulder, and the grandparents need us to protect them, not the other way around.
When the pandemic hit, I knew it wasn’t going to be just a two-week lockdown. It was clear this would be bigger than that, particularly considering how it was being handled. Did I think I would still be at home, writing this while my first grader does zoom school and my four-year-old plays Legos alone for the millionth time by now? No, I did not. But I knew it would be long, and I should have known that I should pace myself.
Pacing myself was one of the many hard lessons I learned this year (or relearned over and over, if I’m honest). As parents, the cracks in the system in which we live became undeniable during this past year. As partners had to choose who would be in charge of schooling and childcare, as families had to take risks with their own health in order to pay the bills, as disparities in sickness and hospitalizations became more and more obvious, we have seen how the inequities in our society have particularly devastating real-world consequences during a pandemic. We experienced quarantine fatigue, compassion fatigue, terror fatigue, and just overall exhausted all-the-way-done fatigue. A year later, I think it’s safe to say that no matter who you are, you are pretty tired right now.
During this last year parents have had to continue working, continue parenting, and have been expected to somehow find a way to do both to the same standards as when we had support and help (and how many of us actually ever had the support we really needed even before all of this?). Motherhood the way our society expects it to be has always been untenable. Motherhood during a pandemic has been, for many of us, almost unbearable. We are not supposed to have to be with our children 24 hours a day with no support and no help. We are not supposed to have to decide between keeping our family safe during a pandemic and putting food on the table. We should not have to abandon our passions because the system has failed us so completely. And yet, this is what has happened to so many mothers over this last year. We all had to learn how to make it through.
We all have had different experiences during this last year, but I think some things have been pretty universal. The realization that you don’t have enough support and you need your community to help. The overwhelming feeling of never having enough time, energy, or mental bandwidth to get done the myriad of things you’re expected to get done. The devastation at the state of the world and the suffering of so many. The realization that children are better at zoom than adults.
While it’s been a hard year, to say the least, I can also say that there were moments of joy in my life. Even when my anxiety was so bad I could barely function. Even when I was deep in grief. Even on some of the days where I just couldn’t handle anything. There were moments of joy, and for the first time in my life I started to really look for them and revel in them.
So, for me, there were things that got me through this last year. Looking for moments of joy was one of them. And I’m not talking about forcing myself to be happy when I was miserable. I’m talking about overhearing my kids playing nicely together, laughing, and allowing myself a moment to enjoy the sounds. I’m talking about having a dance party with my kids and husband, even when I was in a bad mood. Did it mean everything was ok? No. It meant that, even in the darkest of times, there are always small moments of joy, and noticing and being present for those are sometimes the key to getting through. And paying attention to the moments of joy let me know what brings me, and my family joy, and helped me to create those moments when we all needed it.
In general, I tried to bring myself into the moment, to relinquish the concept of control that I had always (wrongly) convinced myself I had. With the help of my therapist, I finally accepted that I could not Type-A-control my way out of a pandemic. I had to really accept that I wasn’t going to be a bad mother for not making every day under a pandemic like an amusement park for my children. I had to let go of my color-coded at home art/math/science project daily schedule (because it was ridiculous) and lean into looking at our individual needs each day.
My whole life, I have tried to hold onto as much control over everything as I could, as those of use with trauma and anxiety tend to do. Finally, thirty-some-odd years into this life, I realized I have very little control over anything. Sure, it maybe shouldn’t have taken a once-in-a-lifetime (hopefully) global pandemic to clue me into this, but hey, nobody’s perfect. So, I accepted that I had no control over the world or what was happening in it, but that there were things I did have control over. Like how I took care of myself, the actions I could take to contribute in my own way to healing the world, how I live my life, and how I respond to fear and anxiety. I decided to focus on those things, and to stop pressuring myself to make the pandemic an adventure of fun times for my kids every day.
I started trying to live in the moment. I finally accepted that yoga actually works for me. I started moving my body every day. I started listening to my body and moving at its pace. I started looking for moments of joy and encouraged myself to feel them. I made rules for myself and my family that protected our mental health (no doom scrolling, pajamas all day is okay sometimes, outside time every day is essential, etc.). I tried to find meaningful ways to participate in making the changes I want to see in my community and the world. Most importantly, I started looking at the expectations that I and others had for me and changed them. I decided that I would not hold myself to the same standards I had before the pandemic, and I wouldn’t allow anyone else to hold me to them either. Screen time rules? GONE! Clean house all the time? AAHAHAHAHA Productivity ruling the day? NO THANK YOU!
During this past year I also leaned into doing what I love and into why I do it. Coaching, working with parents, writing, reading, those are all things that I leaned into, even when it meant more work, because those are the things (in addition to my family) that bring meaning and expansion into my life. Those are the parts of me that were, perhaps, the easiest to neglect, but the most valuable to put energy into for my own wellbeing. Taking time to help others focus on their own goals, dreams, and wellness lets me spread what I have learned and feel like I am making a contribution to the health of my community. Our passions and callings are a part of us, and any way we can engage in them will increase our sense of purpose and fulfillment.
Did this work? Yes! And by work, I mean that it is work, but it’s working. Since I started focusing on being in the moment and paying attention to joy and growth, I’ve seen a real change in my anxiety levels. Changing my expectations for myself and what I can reasonably hold myself accountable for in a pandemic drastically reduced my stress load. Do I feel like I have it all figured out? HELL NO! I have improved my life by being purposeful about it and making my mental health a priority. I have not stopped being a mom with kids who need me, a woman with a small business I’m trying to grow, a woman living with anxiety in a pandemic, and all the other things I am.
So, no, I don’t have it all figured out. But I’ve learned that on the days when I’m really struggling, I can put my mental health first and adjust how I live that day. I’ve learned that on the days that I’m doing ok and there are some moments of joy and laughter, I can actually enjoy them rather than pouring my stress all over them. Do I like that life is still so uncertain? Nope, and it still makes me anxious. Am I still dealing with the grief and loss of the last year? Yes, I am. Every day. But I’m allowing myself to feel these things. I’m not expecting myself to be thriving every day of a pandemic. I’m not expecting myself to make living through this like going to Disneyland for my kids. I’m grabbing at wonderful moments, focusing on my wins, and allowing myself to be human.
If that pandemic has taught me anything, it’s that we all need to accept and protect the humanity of ourselves and others. We have learned (or at least some of us have) just how interconnected and dependent we really are. If we don’t care for ourselves, we suffer, and that suffering spreads to others. If we deny the humanity of those in our communities, we strip away some of our own humanity in the process. This pandemic has shown a light on so many of the sicknesses and inequities in our society, and it’s our job to look at them and make changes, both in our own lives and in how we interact with the world.
What I hope is that I take these lessons I’ve learned and carry them through the rest of my life. I hope that we all do. I hope that this becomes the moment that things begin to change for parents in this country, that a lot of things begin to change. More and more attention is being given to the plight of mothers during the pandemic, and I hope that we are able to keep being loud and purposeful about making changes in the expectations that are put onto mothers, both in the larger society and within our families and ourselves.
Think about what you’ve learned this year. Think about how much you’ve survived, how you’ve gotten through. Don’t start listing ways that you think you’ve failed. Instead, point out all the ways you’ve gotten through this impossible time. Give yourself all of the credit in the world, because you sure do deserve it. You’ve made it one year, my friend, and you’re still trying. That is a HUGE win.
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