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Unacknowledged Collective Grief

Do I no longer know how to socialize without bringing up doom and gloom? Did the pandemic strip me of all my social awareness and grace? 

By Maggie Doherty

A few weekends ago I was in Missoula meeting with a writer I deeply admire and an editor I hope to work for again. Over coffee I couldn’t help but bring up one depressing topic after another: the affordable housing crisis, political rancor, and how it’s hard to feel like you belong in a place steeped in division. After we finished our cups and said goodbye I wondered to myself: What is wrong with me? Do I no longer know how to socialize without bringing up doom and gloom? Did the pandemic strip me of all my social awareness and grace? 

Although I was excited to enjoy coffee with these two, I had originally envisioned the meeting to be an exchange of creative ideas. Instead, I brought up all the distress. A few days later, I sent emails thanking each of them for taking time on an early weekend morning to meet me and apologizing for my abysmal attitude. The editor kindly pointed out that all three of us were in an introspective mood. I then reflected upon many of my recent interactions with friends and neighbors: those also tend to be conversations filled with worry, dismay, and simmering frustration. 

I think I have a diagnosis other than I’m just a big black cloud, which likely is part of it, but I believe something larger is at work. We’re suffering from unacknowledged collective grief. We’re still stuck in the quagmire of the past two years, which included a global pandemic, political upheaval, and a war Russia launched against Ukraine. And for those of us living in the American West, how we relate to our towns and communities has drastically changed due to the influx of new residents and dramatic increase in housing costs. 

Instead of pausing to reflect on how our lives were impacted by COVID-19, it’s become political theater. Instead of having solutions to solve the housing crisis, Montana’s elected officials busy themselves enacting discriminatory laws aimed at social engineering. Where do we turn when it feels like we’re all trying to keep the sky from falling? 

I understand, somewhat begrudgingly, that nothing in life is ever smooth and change is inevitable. But doesn’t it feel like we’re in the throes of constant change and not all of it must be so dire? Perhaps we do need more coffee dates where we can share our concerns. Sometimes to find the hole of blue sky in the gloomy cloud is to name that cloud and have another cup of coffee. It’s worth a shot. Make mine a double. 

Maggie Doherty is the owner of Kalispell Brewing Company on Main Street.