Love in the time of Virus: Uncertainty

Photo by Carl Newton

Dear Ones,

I am writing you from my porch. My porch is a place of ease for me, where I can see clearly who is coming and going, but (mostly) no one is seeing me. This is such a relief to me. I am for a moment sitting outside the counting of minutes and the need to be something for someone. In these moments I settle into myself.

I wonder how you are doing now that we are in week 3 or 4 (can’t keep track) of sheltering in place? Are you settling in? Are you working? Healthy? For me, fear has settled more into the background. Mostly, my head is down and I focus on what is right in front of me. I have a sense of something oppressive on top of everything I do, so I keep my head down. Once in a while though, I lift my head and look around at the big picture, and I feel the pain and uncertainty of it all. People dying, people losing their jobs. My medical professional friends, some of whom haven’t been in the same room with their children in weeks, my friends who work in grocery stores who are on the front lines everyday, small business owners sitting at home wondering what will happen to their dreams. We are steeping in uncertainty, fear and loss.

We are all experiencing the pandemic right now, facing a common set of challenges. At the same time, we are all experiencing the touch of it in different places. We all bring our own unique tender places to pandemic. For me, the staying at home echoes a time in my childhood when, too young, I had to stay home and stay put or get in trouble. At times I find reading a bit of news (but not too much) is helpful because it reminds me of why I am staying home and grounds me back to the present.

I feel quite fortunate that I am able to work right now. And incredibly fortunate that no one in my intimate circle is sick or in immediate danger. Are you still scared in the same way you were two weeks ago? I am settling in in some ways, struggling in others. I keep modifying my ridiculous virtual office each day trying to make it more comfortable. I try to get outside and find beauty each day. Each day I rest and hug the people I can hug. It’s warm in Portland right now which feels like dissonance against the knowledge of the suffering I know is happening.

The pandemic has slapped us hard across the face, making our skin prickly and ears ring. Uncertainty was always the truth of our human existence. We never really know what will happen, when we will be sick or die or lose our livelihood or lose our health or someone we love. But we live as though if we do everything we are supposed to, we can count on something. We live as though we are in control, at least those of us who have the privileges that afford this denial. Sometimes we get away with the pretense of control and planning for a while, but in the end, life will reveal itself.

It stings, of course, to be awakened this way. We are a bit naked right now without some of our trappings. Will we go grabbing at control to fend off this stinging slap of reality? Uncertainty doesn’t have to mean only fear and ruin. It can mean staying right here, right now with this moment. This moment is the only certainty there is. Indeed, what seems more certain that ever is the fact of our basic humanity, our vulnerability. We need each other and we are so vulnerable. Perhaps this is the certainty we can hold on to right now.

Sometimes people come to couple therapy not sure if they want to be in the relationship at all. They are on the verge of breaking up, but they want to know they have done everything that can, so they come to me to check the box of couple therapy. The viability question as I sometimes call it, hangs in the air. They stand on either side of a bridge they have let the sun and wind and water break down to wobbly boards. They look across the bridge at their once beloved and tell themselves there is no way they can take a step forward without someone telling them if the bridge will hold. Our minds want so much to know how things will be before we take risks. In relationship, sometimes the most important risks to take are the ones in which we don’t know what will happen. When couples come this way to me, I ask them to shelve the question and let’s see what we can do. There are no promises or guarantees. The only way through is to stop eyeballing the bridge between hearts and take a step and see what happens. Staying on the side of the bridge will never tell you what is possible. Stepping into the uncertainty will.

The pandemic is saying: Hey, guess what, you are not in charge, you never were and no one knows what will happen for sure. There is nothing certain beyond the fact of this moment. Each moment is another undiscovered country. Our minds really don’t like uncertainty. They would rather “figure it out” even if the solution is detrimental or painful. But our hearts and our attachment systems can rest in uncertainty, when we feel connection. This connection can be with ourselves, our beloved, our friends, our god, even between parts of ourselves. In this moment, can you let yourself feel what you can feel. Let yourself walk in uncertainty. Let yourself love in uncertainty. There is a small child inside you who doesn’t really need to know what will happen. She just needs to know that she is loved and that someone wants to keep her safe and close. We can say to her, I am here. That’s all she needs.

Stay close my friends,
Sharon