Skating on Thin Ice
I am hesitantly stepping into 2022, much like stepping onto a frozen pond, not sure if the ice is solid enough to hold me. I remember skating as a child on too thin ice, one skate disappearing through a crack. This time I am concerned the ice is so thin I may fall right through!
In this 21st month of the pandemic, I am sad about the future. Change happens; I know that. But never in my life have I felt such uncertainty that is completely out of my control.
My life is simple; my circle is small. I know I will adapt. I also know that I have fewer years ahead of me than behind me; it is unlikely I will experience the long-term impacts of this changing world. But my children will, as will my grandchildren.
In 2020, I wrote that after believing pandemic life would eventually end, I had come to the realization that I had no idea what lay ahead. I was grieving. I am still grieving. What I am experiencing is ambiguous loss.
Ambiguous loss describes a loss that is not clean cut, as when someone is physically present but psychologically absent, or when a loved one suddenly goes missing and there is no opportunity to say goodbye or understand what happened to them. It is when something is both here and gone. Pauline Boss, an educator and researcher, shared in an On Being interview that many of us are feeling ambiguous loss during this current pandemic. She stated that the ambiguity of this experience is difficult for us because "we like to solve problems. We're not comfortable with unanswered questions, and ambiguous loss is full of unanswered questions ... And so, that kind of mystery gives us a feeling of helplessness that we're very uncomfortable with as a society."
In a blog post about navigating ambiguous loss that I wrote in July 2020, I shared some practices that Boss offered to help us navigate this loss. At the time, these practices provided me with a deeper understanding and some measure of comfort. As I step into 2022, I need a reminder of these practices. Actually, I am thinking I may post these guidelines on the bulletin board by my desk, along with the many quotes that provide me with regular doses of support.
The only way to live with ambiguous loss is to hold two opposing ideas in your mind at the same time.
Boss offers some examples of what this might look like. With the physically missing, people might say, “He’s gone, he’s probably dead, and maybe not,” or “He may be coming back, but maybe not.” This kind of thinking is helpful, and the only way that people can lower the stress of living with the ambiguity. She says, “Now and then, there’s a problem that has no solution. Now and then, there are problems that don’t have a perfect fix. And then this idea of holding two opposing ideas in your mind at the same time is very useful for stress reduction.”
Decide to live with ambiguous loss
Boss says she has learned that you can live with it. “You can”, she says, “eventually, not embrace it and maybe not even accept it, but you can decide to live with it. You can decide to accept it. Decide is the main word there. And then you can live well, when you decide that is your choice and then you are not helpless.”
Find meaning in a meaningless world
She also says it is important to know what you have control over – “And that’s why everybody’s baking bread or cleaning a cupboard, whatever, and maybe doing more physical exercise. Those are good things because you can control that. And you have to have that because we’re going to have a year of not being in control of the virus, so you’ve got to have something you’re in control over.”
Allow yourself to feel sad
We may not think we are grieving, but we are grieving, Boss shares, “because this has gone on so long, I think there are days when you should just let yourself feel sad. And be easy on yourself on those days.”
This post is not about doom and gloom, although it may sound like it! Reading over what I have written, and reflecting on the practices Pauline Boss offers, I realize this is about grief. Most of us know the stages of grief, and we know they don’t come at us in an orderly fashion or within a certain time frame. I expect the loss of my mother, and the birth of my first grandchild, have also contributed to my heightened emotions. I suppose today, I am just letting myself feel sad.
I know that I can live with these changing times, in that I have little choice. And as Boss says, I know I can live well, and I will do just that. When I turn off all the noise from the outside world and focus on my family and friends, and the things I love doing, then life continues to be pretty spectacular.