We’ve spent nearly a year waiting for the pandemic to end. Waiting for transmission rates to go down, to be less anxious, to see family, to travel, to eat in a restaurant, to stop sanitizing every five minutes, to get back to our normal lives. Waiting and waiting and waiting — with no end in sight.
Now, despite the best estimates of experts, we still simply don’t know how much longer we will have to wait. But something has happened in the last couple of months: the return of hope.
The promise of change. Have you felt it? I have. My friends and family have. I know hope was palpable in the breezy Bay Area air as our very own Kamala Harris rose from California senator to our country’s first madame vice president. Then, as vaccines began to roll out, we got what our bodies craved: even more hope.
We’re still waiting, but at least we’re finally able to see the finish line up ahead. How can we best endure this home stretch of the pandemic? Is it possible to wait well? How can we cope in the meantime?
“I think there is this fantasy we should be able to anticipate things at this point,” says licensed therapist Alo Johnston. The reality is that we’re stuck in limbo.
This is a transitional period, in which “a lot of the numbness is starting to thaw,” says Johnston.
“Everyone was surviving by dissociating in some way, but now people are starting to have hope again. Hope is scary because you can be disappointed.”
We’ve grown accustomed to traumatizing aspects of the pandemic. When our brains go through trauma, our neuro-connections begin to physically fire off in the same patterns over and over, and the more you think about it or are re-triggered, the more intrusive it can become. New worries surrounding the pandemic can evoke memories of past traumas by re-triggering what’s already been there.
The pandemic has been especially difficult for historically marginalized communities. Licensed therapist Van Ethan Levy, who works with trans clients, has noticed higher rates of violence and harm against trans people because they may be stuck at home with unsafe family or roommates, “especially considering those who have had to move back in with their family because of job loss,” says Levy. Trans health care, which is already sometimes written off as cosmetic or unnecessary, has also been deprioritized during the pandemic.
It takes time to deprogram these traumatic patterns from your brain, so be gentle with yourself as you cope with processing everything that’s happened and as you begin the transition back to “normal” life. Because of the way that trauma affects the brain, hope might seem like a strange feeling at first. Johnston suggests that it’s important to not shut down your hopeful feelings. If you’re disappointed with something beyond your control — like another round of stay-at-home orders, for example — remind yourself that it’s not your fault, and you’re still allowed to feel hopeful for the future.
As we collectively thaw from pandemic-induced numbness, it’s important to start seeking joy in your life, however small, however simple, now. You don’t need to wait until the pandemic is over for permission to start living your life again.
It’s also a great time to reflect on the past year. Levy suggests asking yourself what worked for you and what didn’t. We’re still faced with a lot of unpredictability, but the past year has done nothing if not teach us how to deal with that.
Johnston, who works primarily with queer, trans, and BIPOC communities, says that some of his trans clients have felt a certain freedom during the pandemic, because they no longer have to perform gender for classmates or coworkers. Transgender folks get to ask themselves how they actually want to exist in their space and move through the world without the pressure of what others think. “There’s so much time spent with your own thoughts that anything you’ve been trying to avoid is going to come up… I think anyone who has other oppressions is going to be dealing with more stuff and the weight of the intersection of all of those things.”
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Even if this doesn’t apply to you specifically, we can all take this opportunity to reflect on how we’ve coped with being in an unending waiting period.
Licensed therapist Julio Lagos distinguishes between passive waiting, in which you’re impatiently focused on a future point in time, and active waiting, which involves occupying yourself with your passions or hobbies to pass the time in a fun and healthy way and stay in the moment.
“What are the things you like to do? What are the things that drive you toward feeling happier? How can you take this waiting time and infuse it with different energy that you want for yourself?” asks Lagos. “Waiting sounds boring but it doesn’t have to be.”
Spending time on hobbies is a great coping strategy, but don’t feel obligated to spend every ounce of your free time on passion projects.
“Let your body tell you what it needs,” says Johnston. He notes that many of us are trying to use our logic to try and feel better, but “our bodies don’t care.”
Many of us are tired right now — remind yourself that this is okay. Trying to push through exhaustion isn’t sustainable.
“There is this fantasy that you should be better at it by now because we’ve been doing it for 10 months,” says Johnston. “That’s just not true. It gets heavier and heavier rather than something you get better and better at.”
Another coping strategy is to structure your time around different support systems, such as your family, friends, your partner, and so on.
“Find ways to reach out to those systems and those different parts of your life that maybe haven’t gotten as much attention,” says Lagos. In the process of writing this piece, I met someone who invited me to a game night on Zoom. I’ve really missed doing game nights with friends, so I happily attended. Even though I was meeting with relative strangers — and the Zoom fatigue is real — I was able to get some Covid-safe human connection, and had some good, deep belly laughs in the process.
Organize a virtual game night, a dance party, a brunch, an insert-fun-activity here. I’ve had the chance to sing virtually with my new Oakland gospel choir and to engage in virtual speed dating and virtual meetups for Bay Area creatives. And they have brought respite to my weary pandemic soul.
Remember that this too shall pass—we just don’t know exactly when and exactly how.
As we wait, we can wait well by leaning into this unknown and seeking connection and joy in the ways that are still possible. Lastly, if joy feels simply out of reach, know that there is support available to you in the form of a qualified mental health professional. And there is never shame in reaching out for help.
Editor’s note: If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, contact a trained mental health professional for help, or in serious situations, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (800–273–8255).
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