Coronavirus Sucks, But We Don't Have To

I was at the airport ready to fly home from a speaking engagement when my wife Amy called. She was clearly upset, which isn't common for her, and what I heard her tell me was "she can't go." I had no idea what she was talking about, until she mentioned our youngest daughter Bryce. Then it became painfully clear.

Bryce had looked forward to 5th grade science camp for weeks, something that hadn't happened for three years since the pandemic started (something her big sister had to miss because of covid). Bryce had been slightly apprehensive about going, but more excited overall to experience it with her friends. Two days before science camp, the 5th graders were tested for COVID-19, and Bryce was negative.

But the morning she went to school to join her classmates on the bus to go to camp, her and a few others tested positive. At that moment, she could no longer go to science camp. It crushed her, and then it crushed Amy who had to go pick her up, and then it crushed me.

While I waited for my plane to board, I fumed about the situation and my heart ached for Bryce. Someone in line next to me started griping about having to wear masks at another airport, while the one we were in didn't require it any longer, or the airlines. Another person joined in on the griping and then they both went on yet another personal freedom diatribe that I've become so sick of -- I just wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up. 

And then I wanted to tell them that over 1 million people in the U.S. had already died from covid or covid-related complications. I wanted to tell them that over 6 million have died globally. I wanted to tell them that millions are experiencing "long covid" with a myriad of debilitating and science-stumping respiratory symptoms. Instead, I just stared straight ahead and boarded the plane. We may all want covid to go away, but it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

I was obviously angry and sad for my daughter. All I could think about on the short flight home was the fact that I wasn't there to help them in that moment. I got there soon enough though and gave Bryce a big supportive hug and told her I loved her, that it wasn't her fault she got covid. We've been instilling resilience in both our daughters, and while Bryce was disappointed in missing science camp (and a whole other week of school, another fun event, all at the end of her 5th grade year), she dealt with it better than we thought. Better than me, that's for sure. Fortunately her symptoms were brief. 

After Bryce caught covid, I got it too, even after all this time of being double vaxxed and boosted. We all spent nearly two weeks masked and isolated from each other as much as possible. However, like most viruses, SARS-CoV-2 (which causes the infectious disease known as coronavirus or COVID-19) only wants to infect its hosts, evolve, and thrive; it doesn't care about anything or anyone else they infect or those it makes sick or kills. It doesn't care about vaccinations, or antivirals, or masks, or other healthcare safety measures put into place. It doesn't care about covid deniers or anti-mask advocates (although I'll bet it thanks them in its own surly viral way). 

It doesn't care how disruptive it's been to families and communities around the world. It doesn't care that it stopped our Bryce from going to science camp and missing another fun class event in her last year of grade school. But no matter what, we're thankfully still a resilient, mostly healthy, loving, and grateful family, so blessings for that. Coronavirus sucks, but we don't have to. 

Not How They Will Wind Up

They found me at the elementary school down the street from our house. We'd been at a senior event only weeks before high school graduation, and I had to leave. Another intense panic attack had come on quickly, and I had felt out-of-my mind stressed out -- scared, hot, sweaty, trapped, ashamed, not being able to breathe, needing to get out. Like that very second. 

And so I left. Said I had to go to the bathroom or something like that. I left and drove around and then went to the elementary school and sat on a bench. Still stressed out, scared, ashamed, full of guilt, and drenched in sweat. 

At the time I couldn't quite grasp the impact of years of perfectionism, of not wanting to disappoint family or friends, of not living up to expectations, of wanting to be the best in whatever I did and willing to lie about it if I wasn't, and of wanting to be liked no matter what. There was also the gulf of not dealing with childhood trauma I had experienced that added to my feelings of inadequacy and shame. It was like I'd wrapped myself in barbed wire and I couldn't break free without shredding myself -- and keeping others at bay. 

From junior high through high school, I armored up year after year with more and more barbed wire by not talking about any of it, of withdrawing more and more into my anxiety, which then triggered more and more frequent panic attacks. So, that day at the elementary school at the end of my senior year, I finally did my best to explain to my parents what had been happening to me, why I felt the way I did, and why I responded how I did. I couldn't articulate all the stress and shame I felt, or why, and it would be at least another 15 years before I truly began to free myself from it all and the shame of it, but I shared what I could.

According to researcher Brené Brown, shame causes people to feel trapped, powerless, and isolated,  and common shame triggers like appearance and body image, sexuality, family, motherhood, parenting, professional identity and work, mental and physical health, aging, religion, speaking out, and surviving trauma.

Trapped, powerless, and isolated. The good news was my parents listened, even if they didn't fully understand. They empathized, especially my mom, because she, like me, had experience a whole lot of screwed up shit in her own life. She was a perfectionist as well, survived trauma, and was full of a boatload of shame. 

My wife and I agreed that going into parenthood we were going to ensure a positive, loving, empathetic, and supportive environment. As we've learned with Kidpower, we want them to be socially, emotionally, and physically safe. We knew we weren't going to get it all right all the time, and we didn't, but we were committed to this journey. Are committed to this journey. 

And while there are physical and emotional changes our daughters are going through now being a tween and teen, the teen brain two-step for one, we also want them to be able to talk to us about anything. Of course there will be things they only feel comfortable talking with their mom about, but no matter what, we want them to feel like they can talk with either of us. 

Every week at our family meetings we discuss:

• Things we're grateful for and what positive things we've noticed about each other 
• Positive communication with each other and others
• Managing our emotions with each other and others
• Providing support to each other and others
• The awareness to understand and share the feelings of others (more empathy) 
• The willingness to be vulnerable with themselves and others and not armor up

The fact is, our girls will have many emotional and psychological adventures to come; the developmental tsunami has only just begun. We want to ensure they wrap themselves in actionable resiliency to mitigate perfectionism, poor self-image, shame, sadness, and anxiety. We want them to be able to talk with us about anything, which is why we're always checking in with them. To the point where we hear "why are you asking me so many questions!" again and again and again.

We'll continue to cover all this with them regularly. These days the weekly meetings do come with giggles, sighs, and eye rolls, but they do listen and participate. Thank goodness, because it took me decades to unravel those barbed-wired defenses learned so long ago. This is not how they will wind up. 

The Ultimate Quits

"Nothing is perfekt

Certainly not me

Success to failure

Is just a matter of degrees..."

—Geddy Lee, Working at Perfekt

Two weeks in, I was miserable. Actually, misery had already been trailing me like a nasty funk, but it was the physics did me in. Literally the physics class. I had started community college with a scholarship, down a path to engineering, something I thought I wanted, but really didn't. In fact, I didn't know what I wanted at all way back then after high school. The end of high school for me was marked with horrible anxiety that stemmed from childhood trauma and the pressure to succeed from others, and from myself. 

Bottom line — I was a mess. So, two weeks after community college started, I quit. For a week after that, I pretended to go to classes, too afraid to tell my parents. They figured it out, were disappointed, but listened to me struggle to tell them why. A year later I'd start college at San Jose State University, where I eventually and proudly finished, but even that was a rocky road at first.

People quit things for many reasons. They quit school they never wanted, bad habits, unhealthy relationships, and thankless jobs. In fact, during the past year, millions of people have quit their jobs in search of something more for themselves, for their families, or both. If anything, the COVID-19 pandemic became a super-accelerator of change for many. Not just about jobs, but relationships and many other life choices. There's been so much loss as well of all the things we used to take for granted. We can't forget that we're nearing 1 million deaths related to COVID-19. 

Our children have also experienced traumatic changes during the past two years — losing loved ones of course, but also how they learn, where they learn, where they can go, who they can be with and see, what extracurricular activities they can or can't participate in. It''s no surprise that mental health challenges have increased dramatically with children and teens today. 

Pandemic aside, I was raised that when you start something, you finish it, no matter how unhappy you are or you become. It's worse when you're forced to do something you don't want to do because the adults in charge want you to do it. That it's the unhappiness of the challenge that builds character, resilience, and grit.

I used to believe that, but I don't today, although I've struggled with it to this day. There is context for for everything, and while persevering and working through challenging situations can help us become more resilient, we still have and should have the capacity to choose. To change our minds. To quit if necessary, especially when it's no longer fun and fulfilling. 

My wife Amy and I have always wanted our children to try new things, to want to learn new things. Beyond core curriculum in school, we're talking about sports, music, art, and other related activities. Years ago I wanted our daughters to sign up for the Jedi training at Disneyland, being the big Star Wars fan I am. There were nervous and stressed about trying it, almost backed out, but did it and loved it. 

Maybe they didn't want to disappoint me, but they did it. And true, that was me living my life through them, an adulting habit that can be hard to break. However, when they do discover activities they find fulfilling and fun, then we encourage them to pursue them further (even if we encouraged it in the first place). Fun and fulfilling is foundational for positive growth, grit, confidence, and overcoming fear. If they aren't feeling it, and misery follows and they want to quit, then they should, even if they're good at it. Soccer they both felt and still feel. Playing in the school band, not so much. They still tried, though. 

However, that's the hard part for me, fighting my "when you start something, you finish it" upbringing, no matter how miserable you are. That you can only be proud when you stick it out, because quitters are losers. But that's such crap. The latest meditation that Amy and I have been practicing is all about letting go. Letting go of things that are no longer fulfilling or fun, nurturing or loving, that are destructive emotionally and physically, and the list goes on. 

So, when we went to Ms. Tina's celebration of life, one of the beloved teachers from our girls' grade school who passed away suddenly last December, I looked out over the sea where the setting sun was headed as it let go of yet another day of possibilities. And it hit me — life is here, and then it's gone. Letting go of the not fun or fulfilling is healthy, the ultimate quits, ones we should be proud of for ourselves and our children. 

About All The Things

"The worst loss is always your loss. Only you know your loss and the meaning. Meaning takes time." 

-David Kessler, author, public speaker, and death and grieving expert

I knew it was coming. I told my wife only two weeks that it was coming. First, they blocked off the parking lots along the ocean and all the city and state park parking lots. Then came the county-wide order to shut down all the parks, the beaches, the ocean beyond the beaches that meant no surfing as well, and the walk path along West Cliff Drive that goes from Natural Bridges State Park to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk.

The order is only in place through the Easter holiday, for about one week, but that could change (and there are rumors that it might be extended). If you violate these orders, including loitering in groups in any public areas, you'll be fined $1,000. Seven people visiting Santa Cruz from another Bay Area city were loitering in a 7-11 parking lot and got just that: seven $1,000 dollar tickets.

All in the wake of preventing the further spread of coronavirus (COVID-19). Limiting where we can go locally over a holiday weekend sucks, so we had to get creative. And bold. And break the rules. Maybe. During the weeks of shelter-in-place orders, we've been going outside daily as a family to get exercise and air and take our dog Jenny for a walk and a run. That's included going to a park or a beach or down the street to play tennis, ensuring our social distancing no matter where we go.

And now it's all locked down. However, no one said we couldn't go play on the playground at our girls' school. Sure, we're taking a chance, but there have only been a rare person or two cruising through. Each time we've gone I sign the Judas Priest song Breaking the Law in my head and out loud. My wife laughed but the girls don't recognize Dad's old school rock. When we go we play games like 2-touch, 4 square, shoot baskets and play the game HORSE. All while letting Jenny run around the open field.

The other day I fixed my gaze upon the playground structures beyond the black top -- the monkey bars, the zip line, the balance beams, the slides and a myriad of other high-energy activity contraptions set safely on a bed of bark. There was no one else around.

Out of all the things we've lost to date -- over 113,000 lives globally and counting and all those lives affected by the lives lost -- and all the personal freedoms, millions of jobs, and the millions of little things we did collectively every day around the world, I continued to stare at the playground and thought, This is the most loss our children have every experienced. Many of the things precious to them are gone. Some for now. Some for good. 

They've never experienced anything like this to date. There won't be any more recesses for the rest of the year, no more kids running and jumping and yelling and laughing. No more band for Bea. No more science camp that she'll never experience now as a 5th grader. No more after school kids in nature program for Bryce. No more sports or run for fun, a weekly running club they were both in. No more after school musical theater that they've both loved so much. No more playdates with friends, except virtually.

There's so much loss everywhere. So many divides have widened. Prior to this, everyone's lost something in their lives, and now it's compounded exponentially by this health care crisis. My wife and I have been listening to Brené Brown's latest podcast called Unlocking Us. We listened to the episode with David Kessler, a death and grieving expert, someone who's lost a child, which I cannot imagine. What struck me during the podcast was when David talked about why we shouldn't be comparing loss because, "The worst loss is always your loss." And that we need to grieve and have our grief acknowledged. Not for problems to be solved or silver linings to be pointed out, just listened to and acknowledged.

I just kept rolling that one around in my head and heart over the past few days, the worst loss is always your loss. And then when we went to play at the girls' school, we just ran around, and played, and laughed, and we were all okay, for those moments. Yes, our kids are grieving the loss of daily friend contact, the loss of school, the loss of nostalgic normal that already feels like decades ago. But we're also grateful that our kids are resilient, and the ultimate meaning of all this may never be needed. God knows us adults may struggle with the meaning of all this for decades to come.

We're all grieving now. We're grieving of a world lost. We're grieving about all the things. It's okay to grieve. Bless you and yours this holiday weekend and beyond.