When ‘living with COVID’ looks different for everyone, how can we have compassion and also keep safe?

As 2021 begins to wrap up, the second year of the pandemic also draws to a close with a tangible communal exhaustion. We began 2020 with hazy orange skies heralding a constriction of breath as smoke drifted thousands of kilometres from deadly bushfires, and moved seamlessly into brand new reasons to be aware of every inhale. We have all been changed and pushed beyond our limits, and thoughts of another year starting inevitably bring the tension of wondering what we’ll find on our horizons this time.

For many Australians, the end of the year brings family get-togethers with people we may not have seen much – if at all - over the last twelve months. A lot of us have recalibrated how we interact with one another. My niece and I both have autoimmune conditions and have higher risk factors than our other family members around COVID. We are all fully vaccinated.

Christmas lunch will be hosted by my sister this year and I asked her if it would be ok to all take a rapid antigen test in the morning before we got together. I’m fully aware that it won’t be 100% proof of safety, but it would be reassuring nonetheless, and she agreed it was a good idea. Our brother baulked at the idea, stating that if we were worried about COVID we shouldn’t be having a social event at all. He has decided not to attend.

I pondered what it takes to step out of my front door at the moment, how I wonder each time if a single action I or someone else takes could lead to all of the mysterious risk factors intersecting to reach the frightening outcome never far from the surface of my thoughts. I was self-righteous about his reaction. I ranted with my wife, judging and letting off steam, and when the outrage had run its course I remembered that my brother had also been living in the pandemic and that for him to step out of his front door it probably takes an entirely different set of beliefs and actions that only he can understand.

The issue here isn’t about rapid testing, or how simple I feel it would be to reduce risk. It’s about finding a middle ground. But how do you locate that sweet spot where you can give one another the benefit of the doubt, have compassion and also keep yourself safe? 

Under pressure we all morph and change into living within a survival pattern. Whether through financial hardship, major life changes, career shifts or our relationships with friends, family and community members, there is a common narrative of all of us having firmly decided where we stand on the myriad issues within the pandemic.

Our viewpoints are loud and quick to erupt in anyone’s face who would dare to differ. Now that every interaction is weighed down with an element of risk, how much will we tolerate actions at odds with our choices and beliefs? And to that end, where are our energy reserves directed now?

We are all exhausted. Push has come to shove and then some, and whether it be at the supermarket with someone breathing in your face with their mask hanging limply at their chin, trying to safely merge on a crowded freeway or talking to your sibling about your annual social engagement, the cracks have not only begun to show but the foundations have crumbled to dust.

A few weeks ago I took a step into socialising again, one on one, and I purchased some rapid antigen tests for my friend and I. We each took the test in our cars and it was much easier than I thought, even though my hands shook with the metaphorical weight of it. And when we were both in the clear I let go of my fears in a way I haven’t done since 2019. I had forgotten how easy it was to be with people, how it filled my cup. It was such a relief. 

End of year exhaustion is something we’re all familiar with, and pairing that unique kind of strain with the second pandemic Christmas is a recipe for short fuses. As restrictions ease, the social invitations are flowing thick and fast. I feel a pang of worry each time I decline (with thanks for the invitation) that my boundary will be met with hostility, but the grey area I’m in is welcomed and respected for the most part.

Although we may have been pushed to the point of only seeing things as black and white, it’s worth considering the grey area for the longevity of our relationships. It goes both ways.

There’s a balance point here – keep living, challenge myself to get amongst it, hope for the best, but definitely do what I can to be as safe as possible within those parameters. Remembering that other people’s feelings are perfectly valid is important – we’ve all been through a lot. I imagine I’ll see my brother next year, once we’ve both simmered down and found a middle ground.