I just can't subject today.
When I was a kid, I used to LOVE theme parks.
Roller coasters, spinners, straight drops that make your stomach jump to your throat — I loved them all. But if I had to pick a favourite, it would have been the dropping rides.
The Tower of Terror at Disney, the Drop Zone at Canada's Wonderland...there was something about the way that my insides would initially seize when the ride started to fall, and then somehow settle into the sensation when I knew I wasn't actually flying out of my seat, that I loved.
What I loved the most was getting off the ride, and feeling almost normal with just a lingering buzz of adrenaline...because then I wanted to do it all over again.
I wanted to go again because I knew that it would stop. I knew that it was short, it was contained, I could get off the ride, and elect to get back on it again.
That's not how I feel about 2020. (Or really, how it's felt since about 2016.)
In my work, I use a lot of imagery around the elements. I like talking about getting grounded in earth, transformed by fire, carried by air, and shaped by water.
Part of the water metaphor that I come back to over and over is the concept of ebbs and flows.
Human beings are wired to crave balance — or homeostasis, as the biology types like to say.
And that quest for balance depends on us being able to take a break. To let our sympathetic nervous system (flight/flight/freeze) ease off and stop with the stress hormone firing, so the parasympathetic nervous systems (rest/nest/digest) can kick in and metabolize all those good-for-something hormones, and begin to repair our systems.
But what happens if that break doesn't come?
What happens if your brain + body don't get off that ride?
We have the biological capacity to deal with these short bursts of extreme stress, because sometimes that's what life delivers. And thanks to an article my sister-in-law sent me yesterday, I now have a name for it: Surge Capacity.
A term accredited to Ann Masten, "surge capacity is a collection of adaptive systems — mental and physical — that humans draw on for short-term survival in acutely stressful situations, such as natural disasters."
But as the article points out, natural disasters (the actual affliction of them) occur over a short period, even if the recovery period that follows is long.
That's what makes right now — the whole global pandemic thing — particularly taxing...there is no end to it, as far as we can see anyway.
It's what kept coming up with my group coaching participants over the last month, it's what comes up in conversations with friends — heck, it comes up with strangers standing 6 feet apart in the grocery story.
We're all very aware of the fact that even our reserve energy — our surge capacity — has reached it's limit. And now we just can't even.
As Tara Haelle, the article's author, says, "While the phrase 'adjusting to the new normal' has been repeated endlessly since March, it’s easier said than done. How do you adjust to an ever-changing situation where the 'new normal' is indefinite uncertainty?"
She goes on to discuss "ambiguous loss," which is a fascinating rabbit hole I am not going to go down today.
What I do want to highlight is the way that ambiguous loss impacts high achievers. Because I work with high achievers, and I am seeing it in every single one of them. (Also, hello me.)
According to Pauline Boss, one of the esteemed interviewees for this piece, “[Ambiguous loss] is harder for high achievers. The more accustomed you are to solving problems, to getting things done, to having a routine, the harder it will be on you because none of that is possible right now. You get feelings of hopelessness and helplessness, and those aren’t good.”
What I found especially fascinating is when Haelle goes on to say that "Ambiguous loss elicits the same experiences of grief as a more tangible loss — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance — but managing it often requires a bit of creativity."
Whoa.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.
Honestly, my brain is exploding a little bit right now because I want to go in the direction of creative ways to help manage that grief, AND, it just drives home that feeling of pandemic life feeling eerily similar to postpartum.
The grief. The loss of what was. The unknown for what's next.
It all hurts in a hundred different ways.
Whew.
So what now?
If you read through the whole article (which I highly recommend) you'll see some ideas and strategies for keeping your shit together when it feels impossible to do so. And while I normally get really frustrated with traditional self-care recs, this stuff is pretty good:
Accept that life is different right now. But don't mistake that acceptance for giving up! Acceptance is about not trying to resist or fight reality, so that you can use your precious energy elsewhere. (That means letting go of that perceived control we love so much...)
Expect less from yourself. Specifically, expect less accomplishment — and expect much more time dedicated to recovery than you're used to needing.
Recognize the different aspects of grief. And remember that the experience of grief is not a linear one. Embracing the ebb and flow doesn't make it feel better or more enjoyable perse, but naming the feelings and knowing they're temporary keeps me anchored when I'm on the verge of going under.
Experiment with “both-and” thinking. I LOVE THAT THIS CAME UP because I say it a lot. Sometimes my brain melts trying to make two conflicting things make sense as one — like finding and embracing joy wherever you can, even when things are really shit. But being able to anchor in what is good while acknowledging the things that suck has been a very helpful coping mechanism for me.
It doesn't actually change things, but it helps me to make sense of the madness that I cannot control, so that I don't spiral into a pit of existential dread before I've even finished my morning coffee.Look for activities, new and old, that continue to fulfill you. And yes, we have to get more creative than usual here because there's still so much of "normal" that we can't do. The big thing here is to check-in with your feelings after you've taken part in what's supposed to be a fulfilling activity. Did you actually feel better, or did you feel like you should do it? Was the should internally or externally motivated?
Your resources are very strapped these days, so be intentional AF about what you're giving your yes to.Focus on maintaining and strengthening important relationships. One of the most vicious aspects of pandemic (and postpartum) life is the loneliness. Whether you're living in solitude or never get a minute to yourself, loneliness is the gap between our need for connection and actually having it met...and loneliness was an epidemic long before COVID amplified it.
The article's rec is to build connection and support by helping, even if you're depleted, which I add a huge caveat to: Know your limits and help within them. Help can be offered in many capacities, and, the way you offer help cannot come at the cost of your own well-being. You have to know your internal anchor and limits before you can offer meaningful help. And. Self-care requires Community care.Begin slowly building your resilience bank account. One of my Stayin' Alive participants referred to this idea as fortifying her Self-care stores, and I loved that. I often call it emotional resilience cross-training. It's the idea that you build an arsenal of Self-care practices that you can incorporate into your daily life, to prepare for the inevitable next hit...and stay afloat while we continue to navigate this one.
If nothing else, this article gave me more insights and language to describe the way I've been feeling — which makes me feel less crazy, and less alone in all of this.
It also reminded me that losing my balance is not the same as losing my way.
As the author says:
"Our new normal is always feeling a little off balance, like trying to stand in a dinghy on rough seas, and not knowing when the storm will pass. But humans can get better at anything with practice, so at least I now have some ideas for working on my sea legs."
Somehow, that helps.
Once more, here's the link to the full article.
And that's all from me today.
Until next time,
Justine