Re-entry Grief
“There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same.” J.R.R. Tolkien (Frodo Baggins)
We are all experiencing some re-entry distress as we continue to make our way out of quarantine and back in to society. We’ve talked about the awkwardness of social interaction, the anxiety surrounding uncertain expectations, and the friction we are experiencing with re-entry, but today I want to talk about the sadness we might be feeling too.
Nothing could have prepared me for my emotional response.
A couple of weeks ago I took my youngest daughter to her drive-by dance studio farewell. We read the email twice to make sure we knew the rules about masks, where to park, and what to expect. Yet nothing could have prepared me for my emotional response as we pulled up into the parking lot. Usually bustling with cars loading and off-loading little dancers by the dozen, we were met by an almost empty lot. There were a few familiar faces socially distanced from one another, some with masks, some without, and we waved an awkward hello. Music was blaring from a speaker nearby in an attempt to lighten the mood, but in my case it was failing dismally. We said our goodbyes, picked up her trophy, and heard the hopes that the studio would be opening up in a couple of weeks.
It was this last offhanded remark about the studio opening up that completed my spiral downward. I dropped my daughter at home and went for a drive. Soon I had to stop and pull over as big heaving sobs made their way up from my chest and spilled out onto the steering wheel. I couldn’t quite work out why I was feeling the anxiety of the return to normal activity so acutely, or why it had elicited such a grief response, but I allowed myself to feel the sadness and waited for it to pass. On the way home I found myself thinking about the time we returned to America after spending several months in South Africa when my mom passed away.
I hadn’t wanted to go back to America. Not only had I enjoyed the comforts of home and the time spent with family, but I also knew that the death of my mom had changed me. Like Frodo returning to the Shire after his epic (and traumatic) journey through Middle Earth, I knew that returning would be difficult. I anticipated the energy it would require to re-engage into a society that had already consumed so much of my energy trying to fit into in the first place. And I knew that the grief of losing my mom would be the backdrop of this re-entry process, making me feel like I was starting with an unfair burden. The memory of this experience helped me make sense of the intense outburst I had just encountered.
It had triggered a grief intrusion.
My first real re-entry into society mid-COVID had uncovered the memory of a feeling I’d experienced almost six years ago. The thought of leaving the relative safety of quarantine to return to a seemingly unfriendly society with the heavy presence of the coronavirus still forming the backdrop of my experience, suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted me. It had triggered a grief intrusion and the same feelings I’d experienced in a different context all those years ago came flooding back. I know that grief is insidious and not felt in isolation, yet once again it had surprised me. The good news is that this sudden upsurge of grief did not last long. It was intense, but brief, and the fatigue only lasted a couple of days. It did, however, remind me that there is grief in transition as something we have either loved, loathed, or endured comes to an end and we are changed by the experience. Not only that, but the world we are returning to has changed too and we’re having to learn new ways of doing even the simplest things.
Quarantine has changed me.
Quarantine has changed me. I’ve thrived in the slower pace and quieter rhythms. I’ve enjoyed the time with my family as our priorities have naturally shifted. But in the narrowing of my world, I have also become more introspective and selfish with my time, making me realize that I need social interaction to keep me looking outwards and to curb my desires to satisfy only my own needs. As we are seeing with growing conflict in our new world, there is danger in thinking only of ourselves and neglecting to love our neighbors. So yes, I know we need to re-enter society and yes, I will re-engage with my community - knowing it will require effort and energy I feel I do not have. If you are in any way feeling some form of grief in this re-entry process, please know you are not alone. It is worth remembering, however, that every transition brings with it the opportunity to know ourselves better as we gain new insights and ideas to integrate in to our story.
“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors.” Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky