Just Before Dawn

How learning ‘Phases of Disaster’ normalizes the COVID experience

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Part one in a series about the Phases of Disaster and Resilience

Last fall I learned there is a known pattern of behavioral health responses following disasters. Researchers study events such as hurricanes, earthquakes, acts of war, and outbreaks, and they have concluded there are predictable reactions from the moment people learn a disaster is imminent all the way through reconstruction.

My friend emailed a presentation to me about the Phases of Disaster last October which included a chart with six phases and a jagged, sloping line drawn through each of them, from the first phase through the last. The line represents emotional highs and lows and behavioral health symptoms including fear, uncertainty, optimism, physical exhaustion, depression, grief, and coping. 

Seeing this graph and mentally placing what I’ve experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic on a chart with sharp inclines and dips made a lot of things make sense. It was sort of like looking at a gps track after a hike and better understanding where I’ve been and the elevation gains and losses. It was like seeing a map I didn’t know existed.

In some ways knowing where to place the ups and downs of COVID-19 made me feel normal and hopeful. The graph ends with the line moving upward, and according to research on previous disasters, we can expect that life will get better, no matter the disaster or how long it takes to rebuild. I’m sharing this as a non-expert, non-psychologist, non-researcher who benefitted from learning about this, and I hope it helps you, too.

In a way, the Phases of Disaster are like the stages of grief, but not in the same order and the chapters don’t have the same names and purposes. However, the stages of grief are relatable because we’ve heard of them, and we understand that there are predictable emotions and outcomes after loss.

Anticipation to impact

The Phases of Disaster are pre-disaster, impact, heroic, honeymoon, disillusionment, and reconstruction, as noted in the blue text in the image above. 

In the pre-disaster phase, there is warning; we might hear about something on the news or through friends and family. There is a sense of a threat and fear due to loss of control and a suddenly unknown future. Some people might panic. Remember in early 2020 when we couldn’t find rice and pasta in grocery stores? Remember the rumors and long lines?

You may have an experience like I did when I stood in a Costco parking lot talking with a friend for an hour after shopping because we were scared. We’d come there for toilet paper, but of course we didn’t have any luck. She would later wait outside a Target early in the morning, and when the doors opened, everyone would run to the paper goods aisle. This was the pre-disaster phase of COVID-19.

Then the impact hit. In New Mexico, the first case of coronavirus in the state was reported on Wednesday, March 11. The next day, I left a voicemail for a friend saying we would remember the day the world shut down. I’d been at work hearing about one closure after another across the country and it was hard to look away from the news. Our center director called a virtual meeting and told everyone to take coronavirus seriously; it was on that call many of us learned March Madness was cancelled in addition to pretty much everything else, and we couldn’t believe it. A company-wide email went out telling everyone to social distance and keep six feet apart. I didn’t even know what social distancing meant and standing six feet apart from everyone seemed unattainable and crazy. Our governor announced schools would shut down for three weeks that night. 

I’ve been working at home like many other people since that Thursday, the day the impact phase seemed to shake my closest surroundings and the entire country.

Heroism and honeymooning

Researchers say following the impact of the disaster, emotions quickly escalate to the heroic phase. In the past, we can think about how American flags were everywhere after 9/11; how helpers show up after earthquakes to deliver first aid, food, and clean water; how posters are taped to windows that say things like “We Will Not Fall,” and “Forever Strong;” ribbons are tied on trees; money pours into the Red Cross; and people line up to donate blood.

Following the impact phase of COVID-19, we looked to our health care providers as the helpers and heroes, rightfully so. From their apartment balconies, New York City residents clapped and cheered every night for doctors, nurses, and first responders. On social media, we posted graphics and photo captions saying “We’re all in this together,” and we told loved ones, cashiers, and strangers on the other end of business emails to be safe and stay healthy.

The heroic phase continues to incline into the honeymoon. I believe this phase was sometime around when we got the stimulus check and everyone watched “Tiger King” on Netflix and planned virtual chats with people they hadn’t talked to in years. Our friends were trying to make the best of stay-at-home life by baking bread and sharing photos of it on Instagram. We collectively donated money to good causes. We binged John Krasinski’s “Some Good News” on YouTube, and thought all of this would be over in May. There were hilarious memes and free streaming for just about anything - yoga, painting, and Broadway. Bands recorded songs from a distance and we saw videos of penguins exploring the zoo without any guests.

Drifting into disillusionment

After the honeymoon, however, research shows behavioral health takes a steady and dramatic dive into the disillusionment phase. The lowest point of that phase typically occurs six to nine months following the impact. The news changes. The helpers leave or they don’t get as much credit for their sacrifice. We’re left standing in literal or figurative rubble. This is when many of us realize life has changed and it will never be what it was. While that’s not to say it won’t get better or reach a new normal, we recognize we’re not going back.

This can be a scary time collectively, when mental health resources are stretched to capacity and our loved ones may experience heightened levels of burnout, depression, and anxiety. Common experiences include feeling easily distracted, frustrated, and agitated; having trouble remembering things; experiencing physical symptoms like headaches and stomachaches; having a tendency to overeat or under eat; and feeling increased loneliness or isolation.

As we all know, 2020 was a difficult year in America for a variety of reasons in addition to COVID-19. I mention the U.S. specifically because it’s what I know best, but of course all countries had their unique struggles along with the pandemic. In America, we had racial tension that began in late spring and riots that lasted through the summer. The West started on fire and the sky turned smokey brown. A divisive election didn’t seem to end, and we entered the holiday season with peak COVID-19 numbers and full hospitals. The six-to-nine month period following America’s COVID-19 impact in March lined up perfectly with a lot of additional stressful events, whether it was polarized politics for some, smoke-polluted skies for others, or the time change for those who suffer with seasonal affective disorder. Personal adversities also continued behind closed doors and within small circles, affecting each individual, family, and community differently.

It was in the disillusionment phase that I learned about the Phases of Disaster. Around that time, I set an appointment to talk to a doctor about getting on antidepressants for the first time in my life. I was a mental health statistic of the coronavirus and it all made sense. I could now see it clearly on the Phases of Disaster map.

While COVID-19 is not the only reason I’d been feeling extra low, I do know that isolation impacted me more than I could imagine before 2020. Prior to mass shutdowns, masks, travel bans, and quarantines, I was extremely mentally privileged and thought loneliness was a choice. Now I know sometimes it isn’t.

During the disillusionment phase, there can be spikes of optimism along with triggering events that cause dips in behavioral health. For some, the holidays were most likely a break that included making happy memories, and for others, they probably felt worse than ever. Depending on who you voted for in the presidential election, the outcome may have caused relief or dread. Good news arrived here and there, and in December, massive trucks left Pfizer and Moderna facilities filled with vaccines and hope. On New Year’s Eve, we popped champagne and drank the dumpster fire year away.

Reconstruction on the horizon

The next phase will be reconstruction, and in some ways we’re already in it. Our loved ones are getting the vaccine and we’re taking slow, long-deserved exhales as some restrictions are slowly lifted. For multiple reasons, COVID-19 cases are continuously declining for the first time in months, and some event organizers are starting to put races, concerts, and conferences on calendars.

There is light and it feels good, but sometimes it still feels far away. I want you to know that if you’re still struggling in some ways, it’s normal. The reason I wrote this was to spread this information because knowing can be empowering. It can remind us that we actually are still in this together. These phases are research-backed and they represent collective populations. While your experiences might be different from mine, your family, friends, or coworkers, we’ve all seen and taken part in some of these pieces and we have collective stories, pain, and joy.

In my next few posts, I’ll be writing about resilience which is a huge part of getting to the end of this tunnel. It may be just before dawn, but I think we could all use some extra help until the sun is fully shining over the figurative mountains and shadows we’ve lived beneath for nearly a year.

Remember that you’re loved, that you’re never alone, that humans are creative and capable of finding solutions, and we’re going to make it.


Read More on Phases of Disaster:

Recovering from Disasters

 The Pandemic at Six Months: Welcome to the Disillusionment Phase

 Dear Mental Health Innovators: THe Honeymoon is Almost Over

 The Disillusionment Phase of the Pandemic Is Upon Us

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Building Resilience During Disasters

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Calm After the Storm