Clinicians’ Mental Health During the COVID-19 Pandemic

Recent events have shined a light on new challenges, professional and personal, for many of us. As a mental health clinician of color, I am no exception. I have been shining my light on others while having a light shined on me because my life is also in disarray.

When COVID-19 hit, I was a life partner, a parent, a daughter, a friend, a clinician, a person of color, and a coworker/teammate who needed to exist in the uncharted space with everyone else. I was learning how to balance the mental health needs of those I was treating with my own needs and those of my family. This was very hard. After giving my all from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., I still had to answer questions, offer support, and give my all from 5 p.m. to 9 a.m. to individuals who had patiently waited outside my home office door all day. Somehow, I needed to find the space to support myself while ensuring that bills were paid, food was available, and all other necessities that come with being an adult were taken care of.

This story was the same at every house in my neighborhood. So, what made me different? Truth is, nothing! I was struggling just like everyone else but I could not let half the people in my life know it. I had to hold it together for my children, my professional clients, my teammates, and my friends so that I could continue to give them hope for the future, when really, I had no idea what the future held in store for any of us.

A Day in the Life

Currently, I wake up at 7 a.m. to the sun creeping in my bedroom window, the dog lying next to me snoring, a phone buzzing with alerts, and oftentimes a teen playing video games (yes, he’s been playing all night). As I evaluate my life choice to wake up with the sun, I make my way to my home gym that was built in response to quarantine life. I spend some time on the treadmill, looking out the window at the boring neighborhood I once appreciated. When I purchased my home, living on a cul-de-sac was a positive, but a few years into the pandemic I miss seeing traffic and movement when I look out the window.

After some mindful moments, I move to the kitchen to cook breakfast. The dog is now in bed with the teenager who is now asleep. After consuming some nutrition, I settle into my home office to start my workday. Upon opening my laptop, I see 125+ new emails, multiple social alerts, numerous deadline reminders, and a few voicemails, all waiting for me. When did I become so special?

I end my workday with emails answered, phone calls responded to, social alerts shared or commented on, and project tasks completed. With a sense of professional accomplishment, I leave my home office and go retrieve all the wonderful goodies waiting for me outside my front door from my new best friends Amazon, FedEx, and UPS. They are the few people who do not take anything from me and always give me great things. I spend a few happy moments opening my “gifts.” The moment does not last long and I am met with demands for dinner, complaints about boredom, and requests for electronic repairs. I cannot tell you how many power cords and screens have been repaired since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic.

After dinner, the conversation is filled with questions about the future, thoughts about when this might end, ideas about next steps for us as a family and individually and what our new normal will be − all with no concrete answers. As a caregiver, I feel on edge having no definitive direction or concrete focus for myself or my family.

As the day comes to a close, I crawl in bed and lay my head on my pillow, aware that I am still holding fears and worries. Some of the fears and worries were expressed by my clients during the day, some by my family and friends, but mostly they are my own. I say a peaceful prayer and give myself the space for grace and love for all that I am doing and all that I may come up against. I look at the reminder above my bed that I can do this if I continue to “take a few small steps every day.”

The Therapist Who Is a Caregiver After Work

When one is in therapy, the thoughts and feelings discussed are generally those of the client, not the therapist. However, you may be surprised by the role shift that takes place when a therapist leaves work. For example, would you be shocked to learn that this therapist is caregiver to an adult child with bipolar disorder?

During this pandemic, my adult child experienced depression, anxiety, psychosis, and hospitalization, all of which culminated in a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. None of these symptoms were present before the pandemic caused the isolation. Prior to the pandemic he was a typical young adult, living on a college campus, enjoying friendships while stressing about grades, schedules, and internships. After colleges closed and went to virtual learning, places of employment shut down, and social events were canceled, the resulting isolation precipitated his weight gain, paranoia, and loss of friendships.

During these times, our family has had moments of anxiety, rage, sadness, and guilt. There has been physical damage to walls, furniture, and electronics as well as major spending sprees with no employment to support the purchases. Some friends say he is an adult and it’s all on him. Other friends say you must do all you can because he is ill. Who is right? Well, they both are. It is up to me to recognize which approach to take, and that may change from one moment to the next. As a therapist I am prepared for some uncertainty but as a caregiver I am hurt, lost, and baffled more often than I care to admit.

The point is that as therapists we must give ourselves grace and space to do what is in our own best interest and that of our loved ones. We must remember to look out for our own mental health, even as we provide the best possible care for those we serve professionally.