I have written this in my mind about 400 times and have never quite been able to articulate what I needed to. No one wants to listen to my sob story about getting COVID. You likely (statistically) either have had COVID yourself or know someone who had COVID. Here’s the deal though, COVID damn near killed me (literally) and brought me to one of the darkest places of my life. All that said, my experience has changed my life.
Writing this will be cathartic. Writing this will be frustrating. But I hope in writing this, someone will find encouragement and a voice. So, while I know no one wants to hear my sob story, I’m going to tell it anyway. **If you don’t want to hear it, just jump to the end – the middle is mostly for me**
July 18th, 2021 we left my parent’s house in Michigan after attending a great conference. We started to feel crummy on the drive home and stopped to take a rapid test. Laura was positive and I would be the following day. That stop is the last tangible memory I have until about 10 PM on Wednesday, July 21st. I was in a wheelchair being admitted to the hospital for COVID because of encephalitis and encephalopathy.
I got to the room. The empty, sanitized, blank room. I’ll never forget seeing the moon out of the window and the makeshift work to make it a negative pressure room. I’ll also never forget the headache. For 4 days, I laid alone.
When I got home, I struggled with doctors for months to find a treatment that would allow me to move from the bed to the couch. I spent weeks with my resting heart rate above 100 and my blood pressure off the charts. Myocarditis came and went. Pneumonia came and put me back in the hospital for a weekend. Simply put, I spent months wondering IF I would ever get back to some semblance of normal, not when.
For the remainder of July, August, and September I sat at home. Anxious about my staff. Anxious about my students. Anxious about my family both at work and at home. When you lose all sense of purpose in a matter of moments, it becomes isolating. I was embarrassed that I was this sick. Why me? Why couldn’t I kick it like everyone else? Damn, I was vaccinated?
Embarrassment turned to depression. Depression turned to isolation. I pulled away from my family. I pulled away from friends. I pulled away from everyone who loved me and when I did that, I felt a sense of isolation and alone that I had never felt before. I thought (frequently) about the burden I must be to my family. I thought (frequently) about how they’d probably be better off without me. I thought about how much of a failure I was to my district, my building, my teachers, my students. Then, that isolation turned to darkness.
I’ve had dark moments in my life. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life, but I’d never felt what I felt. I isolated. I spent time with the person who cared about my well-being the least, myself. Writing this hurts. Writing this tears me up. But in those moments, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to be a part of what came next.
Fast forward another 3 months and I’m back at work, finding balance and comfort in my treatments. I’m not 100% and I’m not sure I will ever be and I’ve reconciled that. The darkness still tries to push itself in, but more often than not, the light wins. Most importantly, I’m no longer in my self-imposed isolation.
I want to be abundantly clear, my story is not unique, nor is it a cry for attention. I am acutely aware of how much worse others have it. I am also incredibly grateful for the immense support and love that was provided by our family, friends, and my school district. I cannot express the appreciation I have for those who are in my circle (you know who you are).
So who the hell cares. If this isn’t a pity party or a call for attention, why even write it?
There is someone out there who is in a dark place and isolated. I was there. I see you. What you feel is real. What you are experiencing is real. But, there is a way out and it’s the exact opposite of what I did.
The moment I came out of isolation everything changed. I had a friend ask me today if being a principal was an isolating position and my immediate reflex was to say “at times, yes”. But in reflecting, in any of those “times”, it was isolating not because of the situation, but because I chose to allow it to be.
Simply put, there is always someone. No matter how dark or how deep in the water we feel as though we are, we’re never alone. We might be experiencing something that is different than someone else in each detail, but there is always someone who understands, who sees you.
Being a school administrator can be isolating if we let it. Being a human can be isolating if we let it. Looking back, in my darkest moments, I had people who were there. I had people who were reaching out, but I was pushing away. I was choosing to isolate for a multitude of reasons, but in the end, it was my choice.
If you feel like you’re alone. If you feel like you’re in a place where no one understands, where you don’t feel like you’re enough, like you’re worth what the future holds, reach out your hand. Even if it takes all of you, reach out your hand. Step out of isolation and see the community of support that exists.
Is being a school administrator isolating? Hell yeah it can be, but it can also be the most connected I’ve ever felt. Today, I had a friend reach out through Zoom to check in, a colleague text and ask “have you eaten today”, and was encouraged by someone who lives over 7500 miles away.
Is having COVID isolating? More than I can explain, but I missed the connection that was there.
In the end, my hope is that if you’re in a place where you feel isolated that you step out, reach out, and connect again. We’re not meant to go through this journey alone. It’s hard, but the help and love are there. I see you. You are enough. You don’t have to be isolated by choice.
**If you or someone you know is having a mental health crisis or experiencing suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text the Crisis Text Line at 741741**
Joe Mullikin 