The Distance Learning Mindset: Walking The Line Between Joy and Grief

Our adventures with The Distance Learning Shit Show resumed today as Pippa started second grade. There is no finish line in sight, so I am going to have to work hard to keep my mental health in good shape. I think this is going to involve a very intentional balancing act.

On the one hand, this experience completely and absolutely sucks. For me and Pippa, distance learning is just not as good as “real” school. She loves school. She wants to see her friends and have some independence. And I love having her go to school! I need time alone so I can write and feel like an individual.

On the other hand, I do not want to wallow in self-pity and despair. We are still having fun! Pippa and I read the first Harry Potter book together, and I’m slowly introducing the kids to the Star Wars movies. We have done lots of swimming this summer and gone on some fun hikes. Life is good.

But then I think about the things we have lost. We did not go to Las Vegas for our annual trip with my extended family. We did not go to Nebraska to see Nathan’s family. My cousin’s October wedding was postponed until September 2021. And those are just the big things! We have also lost the indoor activities — movie theaters, bowling, the mall — that make hot summer days easier. I would kill to just sit inside an air conditioned Starbucks for an hour to write and daydream and people watch.

Yet these are precious years. Pippa is 7, Julian is 4, and they are so sweet and fun and relatively easy. Who knows what the future holds? I do not want to dwell on the things we have lost and miss out on the things we have.

Yet we have lost so much and we keep losing more.

I have to honor both the good feelings and the bad. It’s a balancing act. When I am feeling frustrated or sad or angry, I vent to Nathan or text friends. I write about it in my journal. I make a note to talk about it with my therapist. I let the feelings flow through me.

But once the negative feeling has had space to unfold, I let it go. I go back to gratitude and joy in the little things: the way Julian’s hair sticks out; Pippa’s latest art project; a particularly magnificent cloud.

This is a very imperfect art and it takes work. I often catch myself stewing in shitty annoyed feelings. Then I have to pause and consider. Is this how I really feel right now? Or am I just enjoying some unwarranted outrage because pandemic life is boring?

And I don’t always pause and consider. When I am sucked into a vortex of shitty emotions, it feels a bit self-righteous to linger there. Look at me! How I suffer! Like I said, this is an imperfect art.

Grace and self-compassion are going to be essential in the weeks (months?) ahead. I am going to wallow in shitty feelings. I am also going to eat too many potato chips to numb some other shitty feelings. I am going to beat myself up for being annoyed with distance learning. I am going to swing abruptly from grief to joy to annoyance to peace to frustration to contentment, and that might all happen in the space of five minutes.

But then, every now and then, there will be a moment of balance. I will make space for the grief and joy at the same time. In that moment, I will be aware of the challenges and blessings, and I will hold them both dear to my heart. My heart will ache and swell simultaneously. And as my heart beats with both joy and sorrow, gratitude and grief, I’ll know that despite all the uncertainty, I am certain that I can do this.

And that will be enough.