It’s just a cold. Of course it is.
My husband just had one. Heck, most everybody I know has come down with some kind of snot onslaught in the past couple of months.
Saturday morning, I do a COVID test just to prove that I am clear. Just like I did before two surgical procedures and my cousin’s wedding. Just to prove that I am OK.
Because of course I am. As the first born of New Englanders, one of my core beliefs is that following directions keeps me safe. I’ve stayed healthy for 2 years and 11 months. I check in with the CDC. I wear a mask. Even when no one else does. I wash my hands for 20 seconds. Neti pot every day. Drink elderberry syrup straight out of the bottle. And you best believe, if there is a vaccine or a booster I’m eligible for, I’m right there pushing up my sleeve.
So when those two pink lines spring up almost immediately on the home test, my whole body shrinks. My stomach drops. It’s definitely positive.
But that can’t be. I do all the things. I listen to science. I followed the damn directions.
And yet. The two lines stare back at me.
My mind reels. I want to be angry at someone. I want someone to blame. But after staring at the test strip and seething for a bit, I take a breath. I know it’s nobody’s fault. Not even mine.
Buddhists tell a story of man who takes his boat onto a foggy lake. He sees another boat through the fog coming directly toward him. He waves his arms and shouts to get the other boat to change course but to no avail. The other boat slams right into him. He is furious and rushes to yell at the idiot who so negligently caused him harm. But when he looks, he sees there is no one in the boat. It’s just an empty boat on a lake.
COVID is an empty boat.
Researcher, professor and author Brené Brown tells a story about our tendency to blame. One morning, she’s standing alone in her kitchen, drops her coffee cup and immediately says, “Damn you, Steve (her husband)!”
It’s completely ridiculous (and hilarious) when she tells it but I do this all the time. Something bad happens and immediately my mind wants to know whose fault it is. Dr. Brown suggests that blame – even blaming ourselves – gives us an illusion of control. But blame is just a discharge of pain and discomfort. Her research shows that blame gets in the way of empathy and accountability.
My symptoms have been gratefully mild. After a couple of “bad cold” days, my body seems to be finding its equilibrium again. Perhaps me doing all the things contributed to the lessened symptoms. Perhaps not. Maybe I’m just lucky. Maybe they’ll flare up again. Who knows?
Could I have done anything to avoid losing my COVID virginity? Sure. I could stop all indoor contact with others but I know that has risks of its own. I stand by the choices I’ve made – both following directions and taking “connection risks” – since I’m a human being, not a cluster of cells in a petri dish.
Could the world have avoided this collective, 3-year global trauma? How would we ever know? Rather than casting blame at our favorite targets, what if we used that energy toward accountability? Blame is just a bunch of yelling at each other, barfing our pain and discomfort. Accountability requires self-examination and the willingness to ask others to do the same.
COVID is an empty boat. I’m grateful that I had a relatively easy ride in it. The only thing I would change is my knee-jerk reaction to blame. The next time I feel my blame tendency about anything, I hope instead to put that energy toward compassion for myself and for all of us.