“Are you really ready for this?” I asked my seven-year-old daughter, Mia.
“Yes!” she replied enthusiastically.
In the first week of lockdown, she finally mastered riding her bike. It took several afternoons, but unlike me, she’s incredibly determined. One Tuesday, after her second day of homeschooling, it finally clicked. Now it’s May, and she felt bold enough to tackle a steep hill.
“Alright then, just remember to brake,” I reminded her. The last place we wanted to end up was the hospital.
“I know, Dad,” she assured me.
Reflecting back to my early twenties, which feels like a lifetime ago, I’ve battled depression. I’ve been on medication and sought therapy since. While there are undoubtedly chemical factors at play, many elements in my life have influenced my mental state. These often revolve around my sense of purpose. Becoming a lawyer didn’t fulfill me and contributed significantly to my struggles with mental health well into my thirties.
When my partner, Emma, was pregnant for the first time and we lost the baby at 18 weeks, I hit rock bottom. It was an incredibly painful period, and my depression understandably worsened. Then Mia was born, followed soon after by Jake. Although I worked as a lawyer, I spent a great deal of time at home during their early years, rediscovering a sense of purpose that greatly improved my mental well-being. Those years were truly the happiest of my life.
About six months ago, I noticed my depression returning for the first time in years. Getting out of bed each day felt like a battle. My doctor adjusted my medication, and while I had a few good days in January and February, most days were still challenging. In therapy, the word “purpose” surfaced again. My law career felt more unstable than ever, and as my children grew older, they became more independent, leading to more time alone as they engaged with friends or lost themselves in screens.
Then the pandemic struck. Both Emma and I have non-essential jobs in New Jersey, so we adhered to the state’s stay-at-home order. School was canceled indefinitely, leading us to embark on homeschooling. Each day, we would log onto the computer and work through assignments from their teachers. I typically worked with Mia while Emma focused on Jake.
Despite the anxiety surrounding the pandemic, my depression has oddly improved. I still connect with my therapist, albeit via phone now. Together, we’ve realized that this lockdown has, ironically, rekindled my sense of purpose as I take on the role of educator for my children and a supportive presence when I’m not teaching.
In addition to teaching Mia to ride her bike, Jake is getting close too. We take long family walks, watch movies together, and engage in games. It’s not all perfect; we do get on each other’s nerves, and homeschooling presents its own challenges. However, I’m present and engaged for the first time in years.
This situation raises a thought-provoking question: Should I feel guilty for feeling better during such a horrific time? The bike rides, homeschooling, and newfound sense of purpose have emerged from the pandemic. COVID-19 is undoubtedly one of the most devastating events in recent history. Living just outside New York City, I’m acutely aware of the suffering around us. My cousin works as a nurse, intubating patients in a city hospital, highlighting the gravity of the situation.
Yet, within my home, life looks different. I’m uncertain about the future. How will I navigate life once things return to normal? I’m concerned about my mental health, but I also yearn for normalcy as it signifies overcoming this crisis. I want my kids to enjoy their childhood again and reconnect with friends their own age.
For now, I’ll choose to appreciate the moments of joy and quality time with my children.
Back at the hill, Mia took off on her bike, initially cautiously. Then she gained confidence and zoomed down safely. I couldn’t have been prouder. Today marked the sixteenth ride in the last eighteen days we’ve spent together (not that I’m counting). She looked back at me, beaming.
“I did it, Dad!”
I broke into applause.
“Dad, can I try my skateboard on this hill tomorrow?”
I never claimed it was easy.
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Summary:
During the pandemic, I found unexpected joy and purpose in homeschooling my children, despite the surrounding chaos and suffering. My mental health improved as I engaged more with my family, raising questions about feeling guilty for finding happiness amid a crisis.