I Should Have Hugged People More Often, and Other Things I’ve Learned From COVID-19
I’d like to start this off be being 100% real with you. I sobbed in the shower today.
You know the kind — the gut wrenching, can’t quite make a sound because you’re struggling to breathe kind of sobbing, your head pressed against the wall, soap dripping through your fingers, water beating onto your back or side. The kind of sobbing that for some people can only occur in the shower.
It lasted maybe the length of the song blaring through my iPhone speakers, one that deeply did not match the way my soul felt. I had put on the music to prevent the crying, which obviously went well.
I’ve been clinically depressed for over half of my life, and it doesn’t ever seem to get better, it just seems to get easier to understand why my brain is doing what it’s doing. People who deal with mental health issues spend much of our lives experiencing the fluctuating feelings of “yesterday was fine, why am I so distraught today” and “I have never in my life had this kind of reaction to this type of incident, what on earth is happening”. So many more people are experiencing that now. I’m so sorry. Also, welcome.
For as long as I can remember, I haven’t been a very touchy-feely person. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good hug, or sitting curled up next to someone, but I have previously had to be in the right headspace for that. This is especially true in two cases: if we aren’t very close, or if you’re getting on my last nerve (have I mentioned I struggle with patience?). I don’t particularly like being touched just to be touched, either.
All of that to say, I would willingly sit on a stranger’s lap right now. The lack of physical affection many of us are experiencing due to COVID-19 means that platonic and even familial affection doesn’t exist much right now. Those of you who have partners and families, while potentially experiencing other issues, likely have access to physical affection. I’m so pleased for you. Also I hate you.
For the last week, all I’ve been able to think about is that I wish I had hugged people more. I wish I had been more comfortable in a society with lots of consensual physical affection. Now I don’t know that we’ll ever go back there. That might be one of the things that makes me the most sad about all of this.
I’ve spent the last 90 days consuming as much art as I can find, including re-watching things I’ve seen before. I did some casual information gathering on Twitter and most of the people I know are doing the same thing — rewatching the things that bring them comfort and joy, and trying to create space for things that will only make them feel good. It’s something we as humans have always done, but it seems to be even more important now. How else are we to process the different crises around us?
One person I talked to on Twitter said they chose to watch specific shows because other people were talking about them, and it was a new way to connect with people. It made me think about how many new people I connected with on the internet when I watched Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice in high school and college, and again when I watched Madam Secretary at the beginning of the quarantine. It’s profound how something as simple as a 45-minute television show can make you feel connected to people you’ll likely never meet (both other fans of the show and the actors that portray your favorite characters).
Every day we’re trying to figure out new and different ways of connecting with the people around us, from new ways of showing affection to understanding white privilege and racial justice. It can be exhausting for all of us, though especially for Black people, Indigenous people, and people of color. As a white woman I’m aware that how I experience the mental exhaustion that comes from COVID-19 and the Black Lives Matter movement is very different than how a Black person or another person of color might experience it.
COVID-19 has done a lot of things to this country and the world, but none for me is more profound than what it has taught us. COVID-19, still raging outside of our doors and amongst the very necessary Black Lives Matter protests, has asked us to look at our society differently. It has asked us to evaluate how we’re handling healthcare, how we’re investing in people, and what we think is important. It’s going to keep asking us to do that. We can phase into opening all we want, COVID-19 isn’t gone and it’s going to continue to push us to change what the world looks like.
That means large systemic change, but it also means internal change. It means changing how we support Black people and other people of color, all of whom are disproportionately impacted by COVID-19. It means changing how we support people that used to be considered “just a fast food worker” but are now deemed essential (as they always should have been). It means changing how we talk about mental health and ensuring people know how to get the help they need. And it means changing how we interact with the people around us, showing that we care in new and different ways.
I know I have a lot to learn about how our world is going to change and what role I should be playing in that. In order to do that, I’m going to keep interacting through art, because it’s the way I’m most capable of right now. I’ll probably watch my favorite movies and TV shows more times than I’m willing to admit during this, but at least I’ll feel a little better doing it. I’ll read the beautiful things other people are writing, and hopefully write some of my own.
I don’t know what the coming weeks and months will look like. I used to be able to plan, now I can’t even imagine. All I know is that by the end of this I hope to be deeply steeped in art, constantly working on being a better ally to Black people, and working in a job that allows me to tell incredible stories. I hope you can find the thing that works for you too.
And more than anything, know that when we see each other, I’ll say hello, ask to hug you, and wrap you as tight as my arms can manage.
