Marvin&Company: Stories About Death And Entrepreneurship

There’s a story I’ve been telling myself, in an attempt to rationalize my pandemic trauma response. We have always been one diagnosis or accident away from crisis, loss, and destruction. Nothing is new here. Covid has just shed light on a fact of life that is usually easier to ignore.

Recently a friend pointed out that I repeat this story a lot these days, and it kind of sounds like I’m trying to convince myself. This observation hit a little close to home so I sat with it for a few days and here’s what I came up with: That story, while comforting, is bullshit.

Of course random terrible things happen. It’s part of the deal when we’re in the world. No one here gets out alive, right? We reconcile our temporariness however we can with spiritual beliefs or denial, and without fail everything falls apart eventually. That’s what it is to be human.

The comparison between random accidents and Covid, though, is flawed. I have some semblance of control, no matter how flimsy, over accidents and illness. My seatbelt and airbags, choosing to not drive drunk or texting, none of it guarantees safety but it helps. Daily workouts, a somewhat anti-inflammatory diet, and regular physicals won’t make me impervious to disease but may increase my survival odds if I get sick. None of these things are life altering decisions. Turning down a cupcake or putting my phone in airplane mode while driving aren’t heartbreakingly difficult choices.

Covid came blazing into our lives demanding rapid and drastic adaptation. Stay home. Don’t visit your older or immunocompromised loved ones. Previously innocuous tasks like working or grocery shopping might kill you, or someone else. Wear a mask and be prepared to defend yourself in public spaces if you’re attacked for trying to follow the rules.

On a Friday in March I went home believing I’d followed the rules and made appropriate preparations. I’d read all the scientifically sound information I could find, from the US and abroad, and truly believed I had a handle on whatever was happening. Oh my gosh was I wrong.

That Friday we all left a staff meeting where we’d painstakingly created incredibly idealistic plans. We said goodbye as if Monday would surely happen, and went home to our personal lives without much thought.

On Sunday the schools closed, our agreed upon remote work trigger event that we thought would be weeks away at least. On Monday we scrambled to gather what we needed for remote work, still believing it would be short and temporary. At noon the state offices closed. By the end of the day the 100% Workforce Reduction Executive Order was in place, and we wouldn’t see each other outside of Zoom meetings for three months. Work orders stopped. Clients closed their offices just as we’d closed ours. In the space of 48 hours everything we planned for no longer mattered.

Let me be clear, we were extremely, undoubtedly, ridiculously lucky. My staff and I collected our full salaries from the safety of our homes. Everybody lived. No part of my story is tragic.

The point is that the loss of control was ruthless and swift, shaking the foundation of everything. Things that usually give us a competitive edge against unforeseen disaster did not matter anymore. Plans based on science and research and good intentions turned into moot points faster than they could be implemented.

When I speak of trauma brain or covid-depression, I’m not euphemistically referring to mild disappointment or annoyance. People became enraged, afraid, or withdrawn, things we all took for granted were suddenly missing from everyday life. The loss of our way of life and some of the people in it is profound. Very rarely do we lose our entire way of life all at once with no warning and no end in sight.

This world altering event is different than anything we’ve experienced in our lifetime. We have no basis for comparison and thus no comforting stories to tell ourselves. I shouldn’t minimize the trauma we all feel on some level with platitudes about car accidents and cancer; that doesn’t help. Six months of sustained crisis chemically alters our brains. Unlike personal trauma, we have nowhere to look for normalcy because there is no normal anymore. We’re all figuring it out together.