The message surrounds us: All of life’s doors are open to you if you can push through the pain

Twenty-one days ago, I tested positive for Covid. I’m still not feeling okay.

I should qualify. I’m okay in the sense that I’m alive, and relatively speaking, I’m well. I know that many people died, were on ventilators, lost loved ones, or are dealing with other serious long-term Covid ramifications. So yes, in that sense I’m fine, (more than fine!) and I’m grateful. But zooming back in to my personal experience, no, I can’t say I’m okay yet.

I still don’t feel ready to resume my regular activities. I’m weak, I have a deep cough that won’t go away, and my lungs feel heavy. I tried to start my exercise routine again, which I rely on for my mental health, but I’m unable to.

Events exhaust me. Small talk is labor intensive. Every night after dinner I fight a strong urge to head straight to bed. But I’m supposed to be better already, aren’t I?

I missed a work event during that week at home that mattered a lot to me. I tried to “look at the bright side” and be grateful, but it hurt. I’d been working toward this event every day for months, and it wasn’t something I could make up the following week — or ever.

I’d worn a mask vigilantly and cut down on going to big gatherings right before the event; I’d been that nervous about getting COVID and missing the affair. Hashem knows better, as He always does, but it hurts more than I can articulate.

American culture advocates the notion of “getting over it” quickly and jumping back into the arena. We’re uncomfortable when people aren’t healing, aren’t moving on. We’re bad at accepting people in pain who don’t immediately skip to the silver lining. We like band-aids, ice packs, and painkillers.

We hear constant praise for those who are able to push themselves to the limit. “Wow, she was sick with the flu but she still cooked for 50 people.” “He lost so much in that tragic accident, but within weeks he started that incredible organization.”

We value the strong, not the weak. We don’t tell our kids stories about people who trusted their gut feelings and went to sleep early instead of pushing on because they knew it was what their body needed. The message surrounds us: All of life’s doors are open to you if you can push through the pain.

But the underlying message is: There’s something wrong with you if you can’t.