Identity, Control & Grief in the time of the Shutdown

Back in the olden days, before the Covid-19 shutdown, there was this one glorious moment that I looked forward to every weekday. It came at around 8:10am, after I dropped my two daughters off at their respective schools.

This was the moment of quiet that came after successfully completing the morning rush to get them up, dressed, fed and out the door; after parking twice, un-buckling and re-buckling car seats, rushing down school hallways, exchanging snow and rain boots for indoor sneakers, making hurried hellos to friends, emptying backpacks, and sometimes peelig little hands off my legs… 

After all that, I would get back in the car, close the door, turn on the radio and take a long sip of coffee out of my travel mug. 

And that’s it right there. That’s the moment I’m missing the most today.

In fact, after reading this piece from HBR this morning, I realize that I’m probably grieving it. 

Of course, I love my children. Most days, I even love the chaos of our mornings together. Before I became a parent, my mornings always felt so short, so lacking in energy and human connection. Now, my household and our mornings are full, noisy, filled with activity and shared anticipation of the day ahead.  

But I also love the quiet. I love working. The balance of a day spent in several different modes – the parent rush, the contemplative think time, chats and connection with colleagues or clients, the post-bedtime quiet and catch-up with my spouse.  

It’s in this, I just realized this morning, in the carefully calibrated balance of mental, physical and emotional activity, that my normal exists. I’ve spent years adjusting the settings and making arrangements to get this just right. 

And now, humblingly, frustratingly, discouragingly… it’s all off kilter. We are all off kilter. 

This shutdown isn’t just about taking some elements of your life and placing them against a different backdrop. It’s about losing the cadence and mixture of experiences, settings, interactions and activities that make up who we are. 

If we are defined by how we spend our time – which, in many ways, I think we are – then it’s no wonder that this moment is so uncomfortable and jarring. 

So what do we do? How do we renegotiate our sense of self when everything around us is disrupting our sense of control?

Going back to HBR and the concept of grief, perhaps we start first by acknowledging what we’ve lost. And, following the five stages, perhaps we can we can begin to make our way to acceptance.

And for me, I will try to remember that, one day in the future, I will get that 8:10am quiet time back again. But after everything, it will probably look, and feel, just a little bit different.