Anger in the Time of Coronavirus

What an emotional roller coaster the last year and a half has been! The pandemic and the election have been a double whammy on our mental health. Religious leaders are seeing a lot more anxiety and depression in their congregations. FiveThirtyEight notes that hatred now dominates American politics. Though we are learning more about potential long-term physical consequences of COVID-19 infection, I fear anger may be most damaging and lasting side effect of the pandemic.

I’m generally not an angry person. But there is a pervasive anger I suspect most of us are experiencing. It catches us off guard. By the time we are aware of it, we are about the explode. The triggers may be different for each of us. For some (like me), it is the failure of the country to get behind the greatest vaccine development and distribution effort in the history of the world. For others, it may be the political fallout of a lost election, or the decline of the church, or systemic racism, or immigration. Our anger has been whipped into a frenzy by presidents and politicians, by news organizations and social media. Our collective and individual anger switches are on an ever-shortening fuse. This is not healthy. Anger is tearing us apart from without and within. 

For example, vaccine hesitancy is the lead story in much of the news right now. The phrase vaccine hesitancy is kind. It is a gentle way of referring to the ever-hardening decision by far too many to refuse to save lives – theirs and others. Honestly, hesitancy describes very few now and grossly mischaracterizes the selfish and vehement opposition of too many to getting vaccinated – kamikaze cultism, as this paper called it. Vaccination rates have plummeted. The Delta variant is on the rise as a result. In states with low vaccination rates, more than 99% of COVID-19 deaths over the past six months were among unvaccinated people. Virtually all current COVID-19 hospitalizations and deaths in the United States are preventable.

We continue to give people the benefit of the doubt, hoping that the truly hesitant will step into the light, when the dark void of lies and misinformation has swallowed so many. Fear of the Delta variant may now be convincing some holdouts to get the jab. On the other hand, those falling on the straw man sword of freedom and personal responsibility will get to enjoy the consequences of their choices, which increasingly may mean wearing masks at work, regular nasal swab testing (isn’t that fun!), or even loss of employment. Some will die. Freedom to choose is a wonderful thing.

Does that sound cynical to you? Yes, I am cynical. And, as I said, angry even. As a cancer physician, I have determined that a healthier emotional reaction to the unvaccinated would be more like my compassionate-yet-uncompromising reaction to smokers, who often have a similar “personal rights” reaction to smoking restrictions (and who can be “addicted” not only to smoking, but also to the misinformation and rationalization that misplaces and overrides the very real health dangers that demand a broad societal response). One person I attempted to talk to about getting vaccinated said, “It is scary that we would capitulate to forced mandates. You agree with this one, but may not agree with the next. You may be very thankful later that people like me will stand in the gap regardless of the social stoning we are experiencing.” Yet very few of the anti-COVID-19 vaccine zealots are true libertarians. They are much more likely to view COVID-19 vaccine refusal as a statement of political identity and a test of party loyalty. And that social stoning? Self-inflicted wounds are an affront to the true coronavirus martyrs – those who lost their lives through the inaction of others. 

Don’t get me wrong – every COVID-19 death is tragic, regardless of the circumstances. My anger at the situation must not be seen as a lack of compassion for the person. Our healthcare system and the providers in it will do everything they can to care for those who are suffering and dying from COVID-19. 

The vaccine isn’t of the devil, folks, and it isn’t the mark of the beast, either. Ah, but anger is, including mine. When Jesus sent his apostles out to spread the gospel message – literally the good news – he didn’t tell them to get angry when the message was rejected. They were to shake the dust off their feet and move on. Some people laugh when I suggest it is a Christian duty to get vaccinated to help others, as if the Good Samaritan story has no modern pandemic equivalent. We should be protecting our neighbor, not infecting them. I’ve shaken off a lot of dust lately. Yet, I will continue to spread the good news that vaccines save lives.

Whether vaccines or elections, critical race theory or immigration, politics on the left or the right, we cannot let the sun go down on our anger. The antidote to anger is gratitude and love. It is hard to remain angry when you are counting your blessings and serving others. I’ve said it many times before, but the response of those claiming to be followers of Christ – and I count myself among those – should be to love our neighbor. 

Are you suffering from debilitating anger, anxiety, or depression? Seek help. The Burke Center is here for you. Reach out to them at https://myburke.org or by calling their 24-hour crisis hotline at 1-800-392-8343. 

2020 and Coronavirus Fatigue

I’m tired. I’m tired of 2020 and COVID-19. 2020 has certainly been full of meme-worthy events, but the pandemic has loomed over them all. I vacillate between exasperation and calling people out for not wearing masks, on the one hand, and resignation on the other. Anger? Depression? Mostly, I’m just tired. 

I worry about friends who have had or will catch COVID-19. I grieve for those who have lost friends or relatives to the disease. I wonder if – no, when – I (or a family member) will catch it, and how severe the illness will be. I think we all suffer from a sense of impending doom.

I’m tired of trying to figure out why some people think they have a right to endanger others by not wearing a mask or social distancing. Would they also get drunk and drive? This selfish hubris is bald hypocrisy when practiced by those who conflate Christianity and partisan politics, whose insistence on personal rights and worship of Trump evidently are more important than loving their neighbor. (See there? I am getting angry again.)

And now that Trump has COVID-19, the politicization of mask wearing by some on the right has been countered with a celebratory “I-told-you-so” attitude by some on the left. As one observer said, referring to all the warnings about how cavalier the Trump White House has been about masks and social distancing, “There is no joy in being right.” My private prediction that Trump – if he got out of the hospital fairly quickly – would turn around and say, ‘See? This coronavirus isn’t that bad!’ came true. I do hope and pray he continues to a full recovery. But I am so very tired of the scientific community having to clean up after Trump’s ignorant and dangerous medical beliefs and statements.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross famously described five stages of grief that terminally ill patients experience when faced with their impending death. These stages – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – have since been used to describe our emotional processing of any loss or tragedy. Or, in the case of 2020, an entire year. Kübler-Ross’s stages do not have to be experienced in the commonly stated order. And those stages, it seems to me, can be seen in our national narrative and psyche as well, not just our individual lives. The United States is reeling from successive, seemingly unrelenting blows (hurricanes, wildfires, protests, murder hornets, the pandemic, etc.), staggering between anger and depression – as I have been personally – or grasping at national denial and bargaining, depending on the day. 

My wife tells me how homesick she is for the life pre-pandemic. I find myself overeating as an escape from the relentless bad news cycle. I can tell I’m not sleeping as well, either. Are you tired as well? How are you handling 2020? We all need to be mindful of how we handle stress and depression. Relying on alcohol, marijuana, or other drugs is not appropriate coping, yet drug and alcohol use are on the rise. Mental health and alcohol and drug abuse organizations – Burke and the Alcohol and Drug Abuse Council of Deep East Texas (ADAC), for example – are here to help. Don’t let yourself spiral out of control. If you are having a mental health emergency, call Burke’s 24-hour crisis line at 1 (800) 392-8343. For ADAC services, call 1 (800) 445-8562 or (936) 634-5753 to schedule an appointment.

Regardless of the sequence or magnitude of the stages of grief, the goal for resolution and healing – individually as well as nationally – must be some movement toward acceptance. In the case of the pandemic, that acceptance ideally should include an acknowledgement of the reality and severity of the illness and the need for at least a basic individual and communal response (hand washing, masks, social distancing), even if we don’t always agree on broader, more complex issues, like how and when the economy or the schools should open up. We must accept that the scientific community is not out to derail the presidency; rather, to save lives.

2020 will come to an end. On December 31 at midnight, we will sing Auld Lang Syne and gratefully close the book on the year. Not so fast with the pandemic. A safe and effective vaccine may still be a ways off. Though we are all tired (and occasionally angry or depressed), we cannot let down our guard as individuals or as a society. Let’s move beyond denial, anger, bargaining and depression and toward acceptance, including acceptance of and care for each other. We have so many strengths as community, and we need each other now more than ever. Together, we can do this. The ancient prophet Isaiah could have written for today: we must renew our strength, to run and not grow weary, to walk and not be faint. And while we are at it, let’s not forget to love our neighbor as ourselves.