More times than I can count in a week, people are asking me how I am “doing it.” How am I managing my day? What am I doing to get through each day? What do I think the weeks ahead will bring? Obviously, I have no idea how to answer the latter question; however, I’ve decided to outline my personal approach to life these days. Like most people, Hubby and I are social distancing which, for us, means we are home with each other every day, not going out, having groceries delivered and watching a lot of Netflix. That said, however, we have put in some structures to keep us sane.
For me, the very worst place I could be alone is not a dark alley in a scary city, but in my own head. Left to my own thoughts, I pretty quickly find myself at the intersection of What-if Road and Tragedy Trail, which is a dangerous neighborhood. The What-if Road is almost always a path to disempowering thoughts, worst case scenarios, and, if I don’t catch myself soon enough, I am soon buying real estate on Tragedy Lane where someone will end up horribly sick or dead. Luckily, I know myself well and have put up a few yield signs along the way. Luckily, I have had a lot of practice these days and have become very experienced at being in the here and now. This is so not my forte. By nature, I am always creating something, looking towards the future, predicting what will be wanted and needed, planning parties, beer tastings, celebrations and all things that bring life and connection. I live to see my grandchildren on the weekends, something I consider the ultimate joy. Being in the here and now is a learned skill and I have gone from failing grades to a solid C+ or B- student, for which I am so grateful. Believe it or not, however, the more I practice this skill, the calmer I feel. It is not intuitive for me, but it is becoming a place where I routinely go for comfort.
I am not sure if everyone is experiencing this, but I feel a huge sense of loss and grief these days. I miss my life. I actually have the experience of being broken hearted at not being able to see my grandchildren. When I think of them, I get tears in my eyes and my throat catches and I have to consciously take a breath to keep from losing it completely. Not having them each weekend has left this huge ache where there used to be joy. Not knowing when I will be able to see them again, is almost more than I can bear. I miss the freedom of being able to move about without concern. I miss my office, stopping at Whole Earth a couple of times a week, the Ace Hardware store, the bank, all of my regular places. I miss the idea of getting in and out of my car without employing Clorox wipes and disinfectant spray. I miss a life where people had something else to talk about other than Covid-19. This sense of grief and loss is a lot to manage every day, and like many people, some days are better than others.
Like a lot of people, when social distancing became a NJ mandate, I looked forward to life in my PJ’s and sweats. Also like a lot of people, I quickly realized that life in PJ’s and sweats only works when it is a treat. One of the things that schedules provide for us is structure and structure is one of the main proponents of executive functioning. All of the organizing we do, the tasks that get us up and out of the house in the morning, packing lunches, shopping, paying bills, all of the things we plan and execute, projects, business ventures, most of what we all do for a living, takes a lot of executive functioning. The very act of leaving the house in the morning and driving to work, provides a transition that cues our brains that we moving from one context of our lives to another context of our lives. Even for those people who work from home, there is some trigger that sounds the time-to-transition alarm: someone else leaves for work, their kids go to school, the early morning radio show switches to day time, something that provides structure. So, day three of social distancing, I went back to getting up, working out, showering, getting dressed, and going to my studio to work from home. As much as possible, I manage my business from home, write, take a lunch break, then turn out the lights and power down at the end of my day.
If I had one piece of advice to give, it would be the call to practice compassion – self-compassion, compassion for those we love, for those we don’t love, for human beings living on the planet. If ever there were a time in our history where we needed compassion, this is the time. None of us have ever walked this road before, so we are all managing this by pulling from our previous resources and experiences, most of which fall short. Teenagers and young adults are railing against the social distancing. Their only experience of not being able to socialize is being grounded, having a day off because of snow, or being sick, all of which typically have an end point. Parents everywhere are trying to manage what is often a constant cycle of dysregulated moods as teens and young adults feel more and more like caged animals. Parents are being asked to perform the mutually exclusive tasks of working, while taking care of children, while teaching children, while managing household responsibilities. Many of us feel like we are failing miserably at these demands. Turns out, the best antidote for frustration and failure is compassion. The more compassion you can have for yourself, the more compassion you can have for others, the more your central nervous system will relax. I have taken to reminding myself and my loved ones of how much I love them, and reminding them that they love me, and assuring them that everything else is detail. It really is.
When I was a very troubled teen, I discovered a song that made a difference to me then, the words from which I have carried with me throughout my life. Originally, a poem (Desiderata – page down one poem) written in the 1920’s by Max Ehrmann, it was put to music circa 1971. Although Ehrmann doesn’t actually talk about compassion, his words are a plea to us all to go easy on ourselves. My mantra over the years comes from this poem – “You are a child of the Universe, no less than the trees and the stars, you have the right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, the Universe is unfolding as it should.” It’s a dramatically performed song, almost hinting at a religious message, very out of date these days, and worth listening to every single note.
So, here’s what I have been saying over and over these days. Be easy with yourself. Be kind to yourself. You are doing your best. None of us have ever walked this way before, so be sure to keep yourself and your loved ones really good company. And, as my Aunt Rita would say, “If you ever forget how great you are, call me up! I’ll remind you!”