COVID-19 hit my household at the end of 2021, as COVID-19 shame was quick to follow. It felt as if there were an intruder in our home.
The first thoughts upon seeing the first positive: “How did I let this happen? Maybe it’s a false positive.” By the time the third positive arrived, my most rampant thought: What if people find out?
I ran through our decisions, the events we didn’t let our kids go to, the precautions we took when we left the house, and the types of masks we bought. There’s no way to know how we caught COVID-19. The shame, though – both for getting COVID-19 and judging those who did before me – is all-consuming.
Brown also notes that even the mention of the word shame can trigger a response so primal in people that they’re immediately hit with discomfort and an instinct to practice avoidance.
In order to do away with the stigma associated with COVID-19, Johns Hopkins suggests focusing on messaging with authenticity about the topic and thanking individuals who notify you of their status.
"It is possible to survive this, but not unaltered." Station Eleven quotes resonate deeply today, as the COVID-19 pandemic still rages, and the world continues to face many unknowns.
Instead of finishing the holiday break with teenage dread about returning to school, we were scrambling to figure out how to manage virtual learning again.
After calling the county department of health to report my daughters’ COVID test results, I asked my kids not to post about it on social media. “I just don’t want to broadcast that we have it. So let’s stay home, lay low, and take a minute before we say anything.” Writing that, I’m ashamed of my cowardice and not entirely sure what fueled it. It’s not like keeping our COVID-19 diagnoses would change anything.
Before telling my business partners or extended family about our diagnosis, I reported my symptoms and test results via the COVID-19 tracker app. Less than 12 hours later, my phone rang – it was a New York State contact tracer.
They asked about symptoms and when the positive result came through. I explained – with humiliation – that my daughters were the first to get sick. It felt like an admission of parental failure. They were, to their credit, very matter of fact, and I found my shoulders dropping. Then they moved into retracing my holiday steps.
As we finished up, they asked if there were any remaining questions. I didn’t have any, but thanked them for what they were doing.
The line went quiet, then there was a sort of laughter somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “Thank you. I haven’t heard that from anyone. Thank you. I hadn’t realized what it would feel like to hear it. This is hard. Thank you.”
COVID-19, after stripping me of options, robbing all of us of the reassurance of touch, and isolating us—reconnected me to people and shared purpose.
Omicron is highly contagious, and the reality of long COVID persists. Hospitals are over-stressed by the volume of patients and the demands of staffing. Schools are stretched thin as workers get sick, making transportation, lunches, and instruction challenges, and daycares are in peril.
Having gone through COVID-19, I don’t want this to happen to other people – not parents, children, or anyone. Unfortunately, this pandemic will continue to impact our lives. But, I believe it can help us understand how interconnected our lives are, even without knowing one another.
The contact tracers and health care workers, the school administrators, and the directors of human resources are all focused on our well-being. Now isn’t the time to let down our guard, but rather to recognize the shared humanity in all of us.
