Navigating towards the horizon: Reflections on our year together

March 23, 2021

The following is a guest post from James Raper, assistant vice president for health and wellbeing.

I’m not particularly handy on a boat and have minimal talent as a fisherman – both to the chagrin of my father. (I famously attempted to net a fish my father was reeling in, only to knock it off the line). Nevertheless, I often find myself referencing nautical metaphors to make sense of a challenging situation. The last 12 months have taught us many things, including recognizing we each need as many effective tools as possible to make sense of where we’ve been, how we are navigating as a community and what course we might chart as we go forward together.

As we look behind us at the past year, in many ways it may feel like we can no longer see the coastline that we departed in February of 2020. Like Gilligan and his mates on the S.S. Minnow, I’m not sure most of us knew we were going for more than a three-hour tour. Through the myriad challenges and losses and anxieties, we have done this both together and apart. Much of our resulting pain has been shared in private or via a Zoom screen with a loved one, colleague, therapist or minister. I have practiced as a therapist for 19 years, and throughout that time have learned that one of our most fundamental struggles as humans is when we become aware of our feeling of helplessness. Moreover, when we experience grief or trauma, it is our feeling of helplessness and pain that have been highlighted. Virtually all of us have continued to experience some version of this during the last year, with much of this adding on to the trauma that our colleagues from historically marginalized communities already carry.

As we have navigated these churning waters (you can almost literally see them in the “Phases of Disaster” graph here), sometimes plugging holes in the stern and sometimes fending off what felt like a shiver of sharks (I had to Google it), we really have done so together. This is another theme that reminds me of conversations often had in therapy – that of simultaneously holding two opposing things. Our brains are wired to simplify complex data, and one result from that is that we often feel that we need to choose between our feelings: happy or sad, love or anger. Yet I’ve often found it freeing and validating to give myself permission to acknowledge all of my feelings, and all of my thoughts and opinions, without having to pick one. As I entered what seemed like my 19th Zoom call of the day, I noticed feeling frustrated or exhausted while at the same time deeply connected, inspired and grateful as I worked among truly amazing colleagues.

This is what moving through grief can look and feel like, and it’s a crucial part of healing and moving forward as humans.  It’s also true that we don’t each intentionally choose to acknowledge those feelings soon after we notice them, they will eventually act on us without our permission. With so much loss of our sense of control, and much of that highlighted to us on a regular basis, choosing to consciously notice how we are feeling – emotionally and physically – is something we can choose to do. Simply acknowledging where we do have choice helps. By taking stock of ourselves we are able to make more informed choices about what we need, and then we can determine how to communicate those needs to those around us. Put another way, while we must pay attention to the point on the horizon we are heading towards, we must also monitor the status of the boat and the waters immediately around us.

These dozen months have provided us front-row seats to the beauty and importance of the scientific process and the incredible gifts we have in our public health experts. They have also resulted in numerous, and at times ever-changing guidance and rules. X days to quarantine, Y feet of distance, Z days until fully immune. The value in these metrics is clear. The challenge of the other side of this continuing pandemic is that we can find ourselves looking for similarly clear and concrete rules about how to manage the emotional impact. And I have yet to find a formula for managing emotions. There is no right way to grieve and there are no wrong feelings to have.  As we continue to process the past year, giving ourselves (and one another) permission to be fully human is the best guidance I know.

We have many things to celebrate and which can rightfully give us hope. Vaccine availability continues to broaden, with more of us knowing someone who has received at least their first dose. Our university continues to listen to public health guidance and the voices in our community to balance safety with the deep connection and support that makes Wake Forest, well, Wake Forest. It’s right and ok to celebrate and feel optimistic. And it’s also right and ok to feel tired and sad and worried. The emotional impact on us and our communities will very likely have a long tail, with more understanding of that impact yet to come. As we keep our eyes on that fixed point on the horizon while also attending to what is also immediately in the waters ahead, it’s the “how” in our navigation that matters most. Let us chart our course together with humility, compassion, inclusion and continued gratitude for those around us.