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Most people don't know this, but the classic movie Groundhog Day wasn't filmed in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania; it was filmed in Woodstock, Illinois, my home for nearly 30 years.
In fact, most of the movie was filmed on the quaint town square that was also home to my marriage therapy office, The Divorce Busting Center.
On many days, the residents of Woodstock were required to "stop action" to allow the crew to film Bill Murray and Andie McDowell reliving their lives day after day after day...
"What a novel concept for a movie," I remember thinking, "waking up each day only to discover that it is the same day as yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that..."
I bet you know where I'm going with this.
Fast-forward to early March of 2020. Word about the new virus was spreading like wildfire. I sensed it was serious.
I was an "early adopter," not because I'm so smart or prophetic, but because I tend to worry a lot in general. My husband reminds me that even a stopped clock is right twice a day. So, I started stocking my pandemic pantry and loading up on hand sanitizer long before others believed COVID-19 was a thing. Everyone thought I was a bit crazy. And more than a little bit neurotic.
Until they didn't.
In what seemed like a New York minute, our entire nation had undergone a lockdown. Empty grocery store shelves and runs on toilet paper triggered mild panic in even those who had been unfazed previously. Our world as we knew it was changing before our eyes.
For the first few weeks, I must admit, I found the lockdown to be novel, even enjoyable. As opposed to his busy travel schedule for work, my husband and I were spending all of our time together and appreciating each other's company. I was working from home and there didn't seem to be enough hours in the day to accomplish all the things on my to-do list. Because spring was right around the corner, I indulged in my passion for gardening by starting a little in-house greenhouse and sprouting hundreds of vegetable and flower plants. I was content. Besides, we were going to get a grip on this COVID-19 thing soon, weren't we?
But as time passed, and more and more people were getting terribly sick, becoming hospitalized, and dying tragic deaths, it became clear that we understood precious little about the disease, and that it wasn't going to go away quickly.
Five months later, over 160,000 people have died in the U.S. More than 5 million have tested positive. Businesses have failed. Unemployment is rampant. People are worried about feeding their families, having roofs over their heads, and providing childcare for the kids who won't be attending school in the fall.
In short, it feels as if we are all characters in a groundhog day-like movie with no happy, Hollywood ending in clear sight.
Uncertainty is unsettling for most people. We fear invisible airborne enemies. We worry about asymptomatic people crossing our paths in grocery stores or on the streets. We wonder how long the pandemic will actually last. We question when or if an effective and safe treatment will be developed. We even speculate whether life will feel "normal" again.
This is the stuff that depression and anxiety are made of. And there's a lot of that going around. I hear about it from friends, family, many of the couples in my therapy practice, and even random people I encounter, like the Comcast guy who helped me fix my wonky television.
Just think about the last time you engaged in the social nicety of asking someone, "How are you?" No longer do we simply hear, "Fine, thanks, and you?" Instead, there are the qualifications: "Fine... all things considered," or "So far, so good," or "Pretty good, I guess."
We've abandoned our shorthand, autopilot method of greeting one another. That's because we are no longer on autopilot. We're figuring out our lives day by day. We're in uncharted territory. And although some of my more introverted friends and family members tell me that their lives haven't changed all that much, others disagree.
Consider me an "other." There are days when I feel the weight of paying attention to what's missing in my life and wondering when all this will end. That's when I remind myself to take a deep breath and stay in the moment.
When I'm able to follow my own advice, I notice that I'm able to enjoy my family and friends during socially distanced, outdoor gatherings. I find myself totally immersed during Zoom sessions with couples who are in search of solutions to challenging relationship problems. My hiking-and-gardening-to-exhaustion strategy works quite well, as does my discipline of focusing on the many things in my life for which I am very grateful.
But the truth is, I confess that some days are easier than others. How about you? How you are navigating this strange new world?
If you've been feeling down or anxious, just know that you're not alone. In fact, you're in really good company (me). And although it isn't easy, when the uncertainty gets the best of you, you might try doing as I do—take one Groundhog Day at a time.