August

Into the Wilderness: Story 16

The hot summer days hovered over me compressing my thoughts in a clotted knot.

This is not two years ago, but just last month. August is usually a celebration time for us. My birthday is early in the month followed a week later by Chuck’s and my anniversary. We usually take vacation in August, heading to the beach or touring a chosen city.

But not this August. The whole month was a blob of discontent. A blob- each day gelling into the next, one long stretch of monotony and isolation. After six months of sheltering in place, I’d had it.

So had Catina. During lockdown, she had somehow contracted mono (if that isn’t proof of the sneaky nature of viruses. She hadn’t gone anywhere.) After weeks of fever and sore throat, her tonsils grew to monstrous proportions, and stayed that way. Doctor’s visit after doctor’s visit led to antibiotics, steroids, gargling with saltwater, nothing. Finally, we saw a specialist who took one look and said, “whoa, I’d call those an obstruction.” They were so large we bypassed usual insurance criteria for a tonsillectomy, and she was scheduled for surgery.

Catina’s favorite hobby, besides drawing, is singing. She’s talented. But for months, her inflamed throat made it impossible to sing. She had to take temporary absences from her lessons and singing groups, which had continued virtually through lockdown. These were her sole lifeline to teen life. She had arrived home from RTC the last week in January. Her school had shut down by the third week in February. She had had no time to make connections, forge friendships, explore her new life at home. She was lonely and, with mono, continually tired and achy. This led to boredom, which led to malaise, which led to irritability.

As for me, I thrive on human connection. I missed interactions with colleagues and friends, the creative spark that comes from in-person meetings. Zoom is good enough, but as our brains know, it isn’t the real thing. All the ways we absorb non-verbal messages are lost on video, and we have to work harder to communicate and connect. I was tired, grumpy and blank. Each time I put my hands to the keyboard to write a blog post, I confronted an expanse of nothingness.

I also couldn’t disconnect from work. Even though I have worked from home for nearly two years, I had always had breaks: meetings, business trips, vacations, shopping. (Okay, I confess that I’ve never been good at taking breaks.) But now, with months of pandemic behind us and no immediate end in sight, we were all stuck, a kind of life stasis. I felt as if I were in the sci fi movie of people floating in suspended sleep to be woken at a future date (I can’t remember the name of that movie, turned out they were all really being killed rather than suspended in sleep). I am sure many of you have been feeling this way too.

On top of all this, when Tropical Storm Isaias rumbled across New Jersey, we lost power for five days. With the pandemic, no cafes were open to borrow WiFi from. There were no long dinners in air-conditioned restaurants, no dark cavern of movie theaters to escape into, no dawdling in shopping malls to pass the time. The best relief we could find was sitting in our car with the air conditioner on full blast or wandering aimlessly through grocery store aisles.

I took a week off work for Catina’s surgery and one of those adult procedures that requires a day of prep (yeah, that one). Catina after surgery was extremely moody and needy. I scuttled around serving broth and popsicles, propping her with pillows, administering meds. Note to self: don’t use vacation for medical appointments. This resulted in vacation feeling like another chore rather than a respite. Moving from one room of the house to the next hardly equals a break. The whole month should have had one large sign over it: Trigger Warning! For those who can’t tolerate life in all its doldrums, pass on by.

So how did I handle all this? I felt my drama triangle role rising within me like a black tide (I’ve written about the triangle in a previous blog). Oh, how my old self wanted to instigate a good family conflict. But in the end, I resisted. I said to my family: I am low and I need help. I need a day off. I need to sleep. Catina, my 14-year-old daughter, my Gibraltar of a husband- they all supported me. They let me have my moment. And this is what pulled me out of it. This stress test for changed family dynamic was the rope pulling me from the quick sand.

So, at the risk of giving advice (disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional), here’s what helped me. We’ve all heard it before, so it won’t be mind-blowing guidance.

1. You have needs. Make sure they are met. I know, fellow moms, we put everyone before us. People have to be fed, houses cleaned, errands run. Stop. Make a list of what YOU need to center yourself. I needed sleep. I needed to be in nature. I needed a day when no one asked me for a damn thing. So I made such a day. Your list may not look like mine. But figure it out. This is the key to resilience. You can’t rise above and stay strong while your needs aren’t being met.

2. You are going to mess up. Try to identify your triggers and short circuit them with healthier choices. Lest you think I handled August perfectly, let me burst your bubble. I almost picked a fight with my husband. He didn’t take the bait. I almost decided to comfort myself with wine (I drink rarely because I know it can be a false crutch). I stopped at three glasses and didn’t do it again. I almost ran away- well, I fantasized about getting in my car and disappearing for an extended time. The key is almost. Because of our wilderness and RTC journey, I had enough awareness and knowledge to lean into DBT. Dialectical Behavior Therapy accepts that there can be two opposing truths at the same time. I could be healed and messy at the same time. Just because my old ways wanted to rise within me didn’t mean I’d lost ground. Those attempted missteps were my warning signs and I needed to pay attention. And if I hadn’t almost, that’s ok too. You get up, dust off and try again.

3. Be kind to yourself. I don’t know what your self-talk is like, but mine is Miss Trunchbull in the movie Matilda. Those inner voices have a lot of power and only we can change it. Now, tamping down on it doesn’t help me. I have to let them flow through me like a rushing river. That way I don’t grab hold of them and they become a flash rather than state of being. Which brings me to my next point.

4. You have more control than you think. We can actually choose our own thoughts. This wise point is not my own, but that of a coach. Feelings come from thoughts and thoughts are not facts. We make them! So choose thoughts that empower and comfort rather than depress and enrage. The easiest way to do this is to spew all those ugly thoughts on a piece of paper. Somehow seeing them makes them less relevant and permanent.

Now in September, with cooler days coming, I am finding my way back. I won’t say it’s easy, but these practices help me build and maintain my own resilience. With our world in continued turmoil and a pandemic still affecting way too many of us, easier times won’t be coming soon. So, it’s time to write our own survival guide. This is mine. What’s yours?