Yesterday I attended our school’s “Moving Up” ceremony, where we honor our seniors and then invite the succeeding classes to move into greater roles of responsibility at the school. It’s traditionally a poignant moment, bittersweet for the departing seniors and those of us who will miss them, and hopeful for the students growing into new roles. Adding to the weight this year: it was the first time our entire school had gathered inside together. There were these conflicting senses of accomplishment (for having made it back to “normal” with this culminating ceremony) and loss (for the departing seniors, and what they missed this year), magnifying the weight of the hugs and tears.
On the one hand, I feel grateful to have journeyed this far with our students, to survey the resilience and strength of this past year from a somewhat loftier perch. On the other, we left some wreckage behind, and any accounting of this past year must acknowledge that. Three seniors haven’t been attending classes for the past several weeks because they’re on a mental health leave. Two seniors will not be walking with their class during Commencement because they were caught abusing substances at school this week. Multiple students have withdrawn from school entirely, and will likely repeat this year. And we’re not an anomaly.
Teenage depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation are up. And socializing, which is what they’re primed to do at this age, is down. Just when the drive for independence kicks in, they’ve been cooped up in their own homes for the past 15 months. Mix in the increased reliance on social media, and we don’t exactly have a recipe for mental health.
The pandemic is doing what all emergencies do: revealing the cracks in our lives. In a normal situation, we have the time and resources to let the crack heal. If you tear a muscle, you let it rest. But if we don’t have time to let our mental health heal before encountering the next trauma, our bounce back might not be quite so high. And so every time we feel a little emptier, or hopelessness creeps in. And that’s fertile ground for anxiety and depression.
So this week we’re going to sit with our pain, and give it some space to heal. Start building back our reserves, and forgiving ourselves for not being at our best. You deserve a moment to rest, and here’s a guided practice to help you do it.
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