It's Time To Stop Pretending We Are Okay

“So, before we get to the teeth part, how have you been in all this? Healthy? Safe?” my dentist asks me.

My mind whirs. “Well, let’s see. I was laid off in February pre-pandemic and my husband was laid off during at the start of April. I lost time to spend with my grandmother when she died right before her birthday in April from the virus in the nursing home where she lived. I have no job, we can’t move to a bigger apartment like we planned because no one will rent to unemployed people even with amazing credit and we wanted to start a family but obviously a bad idea with all of the above. Oh, and also we are actors so all our dreams are on hold for the foreseeable future, I haven’t hugged anyone besides my husband since March, my mother is a nurse so I can’t really see her for safely and worry about her every single day and most of my friends have lost their jobs with no prospects because their industries have been crushed. I’ve watched friends suffer major losses of their parents, grandparents, friends, cousins, siblings all from afar because we can’t go near each other. Every plan any one has had is buried under the impact of this pandemic. and I cry every single day when I’m not having a panic attack.”

I say none of this. Instead I say: “Oh, pretty good. Trying to stay positive. Unemployed but it’s all good. We are confident it’ll turn around.”

Obviously I don’t need to unload on my very nice dentist. But I do think the time has come for us to say it out loud.

We are not okay.

I am not okay.

I am not okay. I haven’t been this entire time but the past two weeks have taken a turn I can’t really explain. I think I can trace it back to the confirmation that Broadway won’t be back until 2021. This news gutted me even though last job was not reliant on Broadway for employment, performing or otherwise (I worked in merchandise for many years). But many of friends work on Broadway and theater in general full time. They also work in film and television, a place I frequent and was about to jump back into full force after losing my job in February. There was something about the finality of it: Broadway is not going to happen for the rest of the year. It was that moment I realized: we are all truly losing a year of our lives.

Now, I know you can argue this point. I am still alive, I am healthy, I have a roof over my head and support from my family. We have savings. We’ve had this time to spend together and we are happy most days, keeping busy best we can. I’m learning a lot about myself and what I want for the rest of my life. The picture is more clear now than ever. So how can I call that a waste?

Because I don’t know when it is going to happen. I do know it won’t be this year. It isn’t so much losing a year; it is that this year is spent in a strange limbo where nothing really happens and the best part of life, the people you love, can’t be in the same room as you safely.

So I think it is time we admit we are all struggling.

I know it is scary. It had only recently become a welcomed thing to chat about mental health. It can be hard be vulnerable and admit you are terrified. I’ve woken up every day the past two weeks and within ten minutes, my body is in full anxiety mode. It has gotten so intense that it affected my stomach for two days when it never has before. It consumed my entire body like I had set myself on fire. That’s new. It has never been as bad as it was for that long of a period of time. If it gets bad, it is usually over within thirty minutes. This was two weeks.

But we have to talk about it. We have to share what we are going through and hear that we are not alone. The only thing that has calmed me down has been to fully breakdown and SOB. I mean actually sob where I can barely breathe and I am making those horrible, chest caving in sounds that are guttural and awful. If I let myself do that, I come out of it quicker. Doesn’t that sound INSANE? It isn’t. It is what my body feels it has to do to survive.

Why aren’t we sharing this experience collectively? I’ve seen a few notable people telling their stories. How they cry all night. How they can barely get out of bed. I had the thought earlier that if I just go back to sleep, I won’t feel what I am feeling. That depression dragon rises again.

If you are okay right now, I think that’s wonderful. I don’t know how you could possibly be but congratulations. Hold tight to that feeling because there are people you know, most people you know, who are very far from okay. They are struggling because something in their life has disappeared. Every person has had something. I have to believe that. Whether it was a summer camp for your child or maybe your own job, I do not think it is possible to exit this pandemic unscathed. And some of these losses are truly unfathomable.

We should talk about it and stop pretending it’s all good. It isn’t. It can’t be. The world is not normal and neither are we. Especially here in the states, we are most definitely NOT okay. Where many of us in the Northeast saw hope it has now been diminished as cases continue to rise and our reopenings are paused and/or adjusted. It feels like we are all on a damn hamster wheel running forever and achieving nothing.

I want to know how everyone is doing. I mean that with my whole heart. I mean it because I want to know I am not alone in what I am feeling. We have been in fight or flight mode for months now and we can’t fly so it is truly a fight to stay alive. To stay sane. To live a life that has some happiness within it, whatever that may look like. Maybe it was fleeing a city for more space or coloring more or starting a podcast. Whatever it was that has given you joy, I know it can’t cancel out the dark cloud of the Nothing overhead, eating everything in its path. We all have to try our best to manage.

So let’s talk about it. Let’s stop saying it’s all good and positive and we are just getting through the day. That is all true! I am not saying spill your guts to your dentist but let’s stop being afraid to tell people that we are having a hard time and we need help. Even if we only need to say it out loud so they know. I feel better when I’ve said I am not doing well and please remember that as we continue to talk. When you are in full panic mode, your brain doesn’t function properly. You may say or do things that aren’t normal. It feels fuzzy and it can be hard to string thoughts together or even to merely read social cues. I mean, how can you feel the vibe of a room when that room is your apartment and the faces are on your computer screen and your brain is on fire with every single thought you can possibly fit inside it?

We have to stop making this all normal. It isn’t normal and will not be normal for a very long time. That is what terrifies me and I know it terrifies you. Most days I try to avoid thinking about the future. I have to for my own sanity. I write, I read, I prep all my actor tools, and keep an eye out for jobs in both my survival sector and performing. I can’t think about my plans, even the little fun ones like going to Scotland in September. But I should be able to confess I cried about it in the shower and not be met with a cold shoulder because you aren’t ready to hear that. Because you probably cried over something you lost, too. We all have. I can only hope that for most, it was a vacation and not a human being you loved terribly who lost their life in all this. I know that is a foolish hope because eventually, we will be six degrees minimum from someone who has if it is not ourselves. We need to talk about that, too.

It’s okay not to be okay. That’s my favorite phrase when talking about mental health. And right now, damn, y’all, we are going through it. I never in my wildest dreams thought this is what would happen in my lifetime. I played Pandemic, the board game, a lot with our close group of friends and none of us ever expected it to actually happen and for it to be like this. Out of control and raging onward with no end in sight.

That’s why we need to be done pretending we are okay. We aren’t. And that’s okay. Say it out loud, tell your friends and family. Share and be vulnerable, be brave. What better time than now when we all collectively are sharing this experience? Open the space for them to follow. We can’t normalize the pandemic. At least I do not think we can. What we can do is continue down the path to destigmatize mental health especially right now when everyone is being affected by this enormous stress and life threatening virus.

We don’t have to pretend we are okay. We aren’t. I’m not okay.