"Your grandparents were drafted into war, and you're sad about staying at home? Toughen up."

If you're like me, reading that just made you irritated. How about this one:

"It's not like that many people are dying. We should just open everything and go back to normal."

Yikes. That one almost makes me angry. But, have you heard:

"These stay-at-home orders are impeding on my rights and freedoms! I'm going to protest. I'm like a modern-day Rosa Parks!"

At this point, my worries are not isolated to just the spread of this virus. My heart aches even more for the lack of empathy and common sense that I hear and see almost every day. These statements I listed off are just the beginning of my concerns.

My shock at how this virus has unearthed a mass spread of misinformation and a troubling perspective that lives should rightfully be lost for the sake of the stock market. And don't even get me started on the mobs of protesters in blackface, waving Confederate flags and swastikas at the governors who are trying to keep them safe.

My heart hurts for those who have died.

Those who are mourning. Those who have lost their jobs. Those who are trapped in homes with their abusers. Those who have missed out on their graduations. Those who have to give birth alone. The list goes on and on. And I'm writing this to say that it's not wrong for you to be grieving what has been lost. It's not wrong for you to be sad.

I think the statements I drafted at the beginning of this article represent a lack of pause. A lack of a sober approach to the pandemic that is surrounding us.

But, even as I write this, I want to make a new commitment to myself.

I don't want to remain fixated on this frustration and just stew in the hurt I feel.

I'll be honest. Physically distancing has given me more time to think — maybe, a little too much time. So, today it all caught up with me. Today, I started crying alone in my room. (That sounds so pathetic when I actually type it out. But, bear with me.) I was thinking about everything that has changed so quickly for me in the past two months.

I was thinking about the uncertainty I feel about what the next two months will even look like. I was thinking about my spiritual life and who I really am before God, now that, more often, it's just me and Him in the room. I was thinking about the fact that my first-ever nephew is going to be born soon, and I don't know when I'll be able to hold him. I was thinking about the unhealthy things I cling to when my mental health gets bad. All of these thoughts came rushing all at once, and it was almost too much to handle.

But, out of nowhere, my two best friends asked if they could see me.

I was still feeling pretty ashamed about the mess of tears I was in, so I told them that they should just come another time. But, the next thing I knew, they were in my backyard, waving up at me as I sat there in my room.

"I wish I had a boombox," Liz said, laughing.

Instead, she pulled out her phone and held it up, playing "Careless Whisper" by George Michael as she and Sara danced in the yard. It was the most bizarre thing, but so incredibly sweet, so selfless and spontaneous that it made me realize my story doesn't have to end with feeling sad and overwhelmed. Yours doesn't, either.

Share your sadness with others. Connect with the people in your life who will understand your pain. It's not going to make COVID-19 go away. It's not going to make the protesters stop or keep people from being more willing to see people die for the sake of the economy.

But, I found comfort today in just feeling seen by my friends.

In not feeling belittled for being sad. My tears eventually turned to laughter, as I talked and goofed around with them through my bedroom window. For just a moment, it felt like maybe things were normal again.

You are not alone in your sadness, disappointment, and grief. It's okay to give yourself the space and time to process all of your feelings and worries. I promise you, you have people in your life who are feeling similar things. And they probably want someone to reach out to them, too.