Back to writing about the pandemic. I wrote about how the US might react to the traumas of the last 14 months in the quiet moments after adrenaline fades.
It's about what happens when you can finally exhale, but the breaths come out as sighs. 1/
I spoke to people who study trauma & work with communities post-disasters. They told me these moments can be unexpectedly tough. If you’ve been swimming furiously for a year, you don’t expect to finally reach dry land and feel like you’re drowning. 2/
The timeframe for recovering from disasters is long, and often exceed the lifespan of human compassion and attention. I think it's worth thinking now about people who'll be left behind as the nation heads towards a brighter summer. 3/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
The pandemic has also been something of a self-reinforcing disaster. Past research shows that communities are better at coping w/ extreme traumas if they have: confidence in authorities; a sense of belonging; and community solidarity. And, well... 😬
There's more in the piece, which I hope you'll read. I'll continue to cover the pandemic, and also (for the sake of my own mental health) non-pandemic science stories too. /Fin
I also talked to James Hamblin and Maeve Higgins about this piece, and recovering from pandemic trauma, on the ever-excellent Social Distance podcast. theatlantic.com/health/archive…
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What an honor. HUGE thanks to my editors @slaskow@andersen & @thebanderson; @PaulBisceglio for leading our pandemic coverage; our fact-checkers & copy-editors; & the Atlantic's entire sci/tech/health team for constant inspiration. Truly couldn't have done it without you all
Also it is so thrilling to see some of the best being recognized for their incredible work last year. This, for example, makes me very, very happy. "Polk Award-winner @HelenBranswell" has a great ring to it. Congrats, Helen. You set the standard.
Hello! I'm briefly resurfacing from a glorious Twitter hiatus (to accompany an equally glorious book leave) to plug a few things.
First, I'm really proud to announce that I am guest-editing the next edition of the Best American Science and Nature Writing anthology, out in Oct. The choices are done, and it was hard to narrow them down, but I'm very happy with the selection. hmhbooks.com/shop/books/the…
The Atlantic launched a wonderful new podcast called The Experiment. Huge congrats to @hooliwho, @katlwells, @AMelathe, & the rest of the team. The first ep features a cameo by me, throwing shade at amendments. theatlantic.com/podcasts/exper…
I’m stepping away from pandemic reporting for a few months to finish the book I paused in March. This year has been the most professionally meaningful of my life, but it has also shredded me. It’s been months of continually staring straight into the sun, and I need to blink. 1/
It says something about this year that the prospect of finishing a book now feels like a radical act of self-care. Book-writing: a famously relaxing and restorative activity! A “break”! 😬😬2/
A necessary decision, but not an easy one: Obviously the pandemic is still going on, and will be for some time. I’ll be back in the spring to cover it.
In the meantime, here’s my look at 2021, what it will likely bring & the lessons we need to learn. 3/
I always knew I wanted to end the pandemic year with a deep look ahead to the next one. But this ended up being about more than vaccines and viruses, and as much about memory, forgetting, and how we make sense of and learn from disasters.
A running theme of my work this year has been the devastating consequences of underfunding and neglecting public health. Which turns out to be a problem when you want to, y’know, vaccinate a country.
Other countries have done MUCH better at this with a fraction of the resources that the US has. This should prompt a wholesale reevaluation of what preparedness and exceptionalism actually mean. theatlantic.com/health/archive…
🚨In my final piece of 2020, I look ahead to Pandemic Year 2--the vaccination rollout, how the virus will react, the lingering societal scars, and the larger lessons we must learn (but risk forgetting) from this horrendous year. 1/
Things are dark now. Hope is on the horizon but so are obstacles.
As one expert said: “Think about next summer as a marker for when we might be able to breathe again. But there’s almost a year’s worth of work that needs to happen in those 6 months.” 2/