A New Season with Long Covid
Many times, I’ve looked at the trees in my yard and marveled at the recollection that when I first got sick, they had no leaves. They budded and burst into green, but still my symptoms lingered. Now the walnut leaves are yellow and fluttering down like rain. “Still sick,” I sighed to myself recently, but the setting sun landed on a cluster of yellow leaves, and they dazzled gold—a last hurrah before the end!
Did you know that reds and oranges and yellows are the truer colors of the leaves? These pigments hide there, masked by the boisterous green of chlorophyll. When the leaves’ work of nourishing the tree is finally finished, they stop producing chlorophyll, and they become themselves for one radiant moment before falling to the earth.
There is always more than one way of seeing reality. We can choose to sigh over still being sick when another season is passing. Or we can pause to marvel at how many seasons we get to experience. The zinnias browned in the frost last night, and the tithonia leaves hang blackened and limp, but here I still am! Walnut leaves flutter down and the mosquitoes have disappeared (good riddance!), and still my heart is ticking.
I have more time to learn what my truest colors are. Long-haul Covid lends itself to this sort of learning. We only have enough energy to do a few things. We only have enough capacity to tolerate a small number or stressors. Our bodies let us know when we have done too much.
Is there a better time than right now to decide what matters most in our lives? What better time to notice which relationships nourish us—and which ones are just using us for our chlorophyll? What better time to notice which habits and routines rejuvenate us, and which ones leave us anxious or depleted? Maybe this is our time to get comfortable sitting still with ourselves, figuring out who we are and who we hope to become.
I hope to someday recover from long-haul Covid, but I hope I never “recover” from this becoming—from the growth that has my soul budding and flowering out of season. I hope I never recover from the self-compassion that I’ve developed in this journey. I hope I never recover from the sharp-edged awareness that life is inherently uncertain and the healing belief that love, compassion, mindfulness, and humor are our sanest responses to such uncertainty. I hope I never recover from the courage I feel right now—the courage to become myself.
What new colors, strengths, or truths are you uncovering in yourself during this long-haul journey? What do you hope to carry with you?
i also love the sentiment of this blog and the comment from Frank. I believe having this disease has taught me to actually know what it feels like to be 100% present in the moment. So often in pre Covid life, being present in the moment was a fleeting feeling which was hard to hold on to for long as the next pressing task ruled our lives. I think having Coronavirus has taught us to recognise that feeling and so in the future we’ll be better equipped to hold on to it for much much longer.
Thanks for this Lisa! Was having a down day and this really gave me a lift. It helped to jolt me back into awareness of my perspective. It’s sometimes easy to slip back into dwelling on what we don’t have, full health, rather than be grateful for all that we have. You write very well! I could picture the leaves in your yard- nice scene!
What I’m learning over all these weeks of sitting at home, is how to live with myself. Up until I got sick, it was go, go, go, always doing and never just being. I constantly here people say be kind to yourself. For some reason, for me that is very difficult, but I’m getting better at it and your “A New Season...” piece has really helped. Thanks! Best wishes for your continued recovery.