Well be then
There was a real catalyst of an article this weekend on the New York Times. The article was about how parents vs. childless people are treated at work in 2020. It is a worthwhile topic to bring to light, especially when many people don’t have the luxury of a job, much less one that can be done from home, and even more rare one that provides excess benefits. It’s entirely fascinating seeing the commenters go at each other so coldly, citing their personal pain and struggles during COVID quarantine as a reason for why their pain is more valid than others. Some people can’t believe the tech worker elites have it so good and still have the temerity to complain for more. Others can’t believe we’re not doing enough. Some are telling deeply personal stories. Others are trying to moderate and propose solutions. To be honest, it’s a hot entertaining internet mess.
My issue is that while the article brings up the worthy topic of mental health and well being it does so in such a restricting and binary way; It’s great that tech companies and some employers have provided workers with carer’s leave or extra time for parents, but what if you’re the one having a hard time and the one who you need to care for is you?
I’m married, I have a great spouse, and a family that I regularly talk to and FaceTime with. I have no children, and that is by choice. I have an aging, needy, oversized, chatty cat, whom I love so dearly. I have a mortgage and a backlog of home projects that are the unattractive structural or water-related kind. I’m healthy, my family is healthy, my husband is healthy. So what gives? I feel like I have no place to say, I’m having a hard time right now. It’s been six months and I miss so much.
I know I’m not alone in this, and I know for sure my struggles can’t compare to others. But I also think my struggle is valid, even if from the outside it can appear that I have so much “less” to care for.
So I think it’s important to talk about it more openly because we’re all doing our best to keep our chin up these days. It’s been months and maybe we didn’t think it’d be this long, and it looks like we’ve got a ways to go. It’s starting to sink in that this is a sort of permanent change in how we live, interact, forever. And the lonely and lovely thing is that we’re all part of this together.
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Photography by Arielle Bobb WIllis