To the Survivors

Last week, my kids went back to school full-time for the first time since last March. Like many families, we celebrated, posted pictures, and some of us went out for boozy brunches with other parents (PolySue raises hand). It occurred to me that sending my girls to school was, for our family, the last big daily reminder of the toll the pandemic has taken. Working from home is commonplace. Masks are normal now. When someone comes within six feet of you at a store you’re like “WTF, back up!” But, not having kids learning from home felt like we were letting go of the last major shake up to our daily lives. And as I exhaled with this realization, I began to cry. I had this immense sense of both guilt and gratitude that THIS was our last daily reminder of what the world has experienced.

See, we did not lose anyone in our family. We did not lose any close friends, though some of our close friends did lose people close to them. But, we do not have the empty chairs to which President Biden has consistently referred. I began to ask internal questions like, “Why NOT us? How did we get so lucky?” I wondered if pandemic-related survivor’s guilt might be a real thing, even for those who did not have COVID or lose anyone close to them. And guess what: it is. Now, CTC fam, many of you probably already know this. But for PolySue, this was a deep dive into the psychology of COVID survivor’s guilt. And like so many things about the pandemic, even this specific survivor’s guilt mirrors other traumas and tragedies that disproportionately affect some and not others.

First, a short history on survivor’s guilt. It was coined in the 1960s as a way to explain the guilt Holocaust survivors felt. It applies widely, though, to any tragic event one experiences that takes some lives and spare others. It can present in physical and emotional ways, and varies from having low energy all the way to post-traumatic stress and even suicidal ideation. It can affect those who directly survived a tragic event, as well as those more indirectly affected. A more encompassing definition is “emotional distress that can happen when we go through something difficult or traumatic, and we survive it, and maybe even leave that event unscathed.” It is no surprise, then, that there has been research on pandemic-related survivor’s guilt.

Italian psychologists argue that “shame and guilt are two distinct negative self-conscious emotions that can be triggered by the present pandemic.” They focus on the fear, guilt, and shame associated with the possibility of one spreading COVID and of those who survived COVID. They argue it manifests much like those who have survived other health emergencies like cancer and heart attacks. Now, those who experienced “more ideal outcomes during the pandemic” may feel it also. This would fall in line with the expanded definition of survivor’s guilt. For example, there is some anecdotal evidence of this for people who did not get sick or lose someone, as well as those who benefited economically or had early or easier access to the vaccine. For these folks, psychologist and author Laura Cook states that excessive thoughts about one’s guilt as well as constant news consumption are common symptoms. Feeling guilty about not feeling guilty or guilt over being happy can also occur and can lead to physical symptoms like insomnia, isolation, and in some cases post-traumatic stress disorder. While the manifestations of survivor’s guilt of those relatively unaffected by COVID are not insignificant, the Italian psychologists note that those who either survived COVID or lost someone close to them to COVID are more likely to experience more severe forms survivor’s guilt.

Who might these people be? Black and brown Americans have survived less, suffered more, and in the end, are likely to suffer the long-term survivor’s guilt effects of the pandemic. Maya Richard-Craven writes about her COVID survivor’s guilt, as well as her fear and expectation that she will lose someone because of the disproportionate toll COVID takes on Black Americans. She writes, “I feel as though our communities just can’t catch a break. I feel anger, sadness, and frustration for black people.” Her vulnerability is heartbreaking, yet familiar, as she confesses her strong sense of guilt and its effects on her:

“It creeps up in the most unusual ways — sweating more than I ever did before and having trouble sleeping, vivid nightmares, cravings for alcohol. My biggest fear isn’t that I will get COVID — it’s that I will have to continue watching other black people die for years.”

As of March 2021, Black Americans are 1.9 times more likely to die from COVID than White Americans. Deaths are 2.3 times higher for Hispanic or Latino Americans and 2.4 times higher for Native Americans and Alaskan Natives. Another March 2021 study finds that 19% of all Americans know someone who died of COVID. This number jumps to 30% for Black respondents and 29% for Hispanic respondents. On top of the shorter life expectancy of Black men, the higher than average COVID death rate of Black men under 60 is likely to have larger generational effects. As journalists Akilah Johnson and Nina Martin point out:

“The impacts of the pandemic are likely to be magnified because so many deaths have occurred among Black people under age 60, the peak earning years when people raise families, start businesses, amass social capital and create lasting legacies.”

What’s more is these inequities, as well as generational trauma, contribute to Black adults being more likely than White adults to report “persistent symptoms of emotional distress, such as sadness, hopelessness and feeling like everything is an effort.” Maya Richard-Craven’s description of her COVID survivor’s guilt powerfully reflects this:

“I lose hope at the sight of images of black people crying in New Orleans, which      takes me back to the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Like everyone else, I wait to see what will happen. But unlike everyone else in the U.S., I’m part of a community that has spent hundreds of years earning our freedom.”

 In the end, while some of us may have to turn off the TV when there is a story about someone who lost their life, and some of us feel guilty about having early access to the vaccine, the emotional and physical toll of the pandemic on Black Americans runs deeper than in any other community.

 One of the last rooms of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum displays a large pile of shoes. Above the shoes is a quote by Moshe Szulsztein:

“We are the shoes, we are the last witnesses.

We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers
From Prague, Paris and Amsterdam,
And because we are only made of fabric and leather
And not of blood and flesh,
Each one of us avoided the hellfire.”

 It is so visceral and raw; it is too much to take. It makes you want to look away or even run away because of the unfathomable atrocities and loss. Because of the guilt. But we have to look. We have to learn. The least we can do is absorb something we did not have to endure. That is how we honor them. We have to be the witnesses. I will be a witness.

Author: Suzanne Chod