How to Get Through Life Without Losing Your Shit

Right now, we’re all kind of going through an endless daily Rug-pulling. What news today? Schools shut down? Okay...and today? No more toilet paper. And then? No going out. Anywhere. And then there’s the constant threat of sickness and death…now what?

Hate to say it, but I am going through this awfulness just as much as anyone, especially with anxiety, a history of depression, and living alone with my two dogs; at least getting me out, I have two horses that require attention, but then struggle to justify going anywhere and spending gas money, especially since my debt is at an all-time high while trying to get a burgeoning business to flourish in a time of crisis…and that doesn’t even begin to approach the fact that I have a second divorce looming.

But I don’t have it as bad as some; I am in decent health, and, although chubbier than I have ever been, I have health benefits (the reason that I am still married). It is all relative, sure, and I could whine, but to what end? This is not a pissing contest. But, oh yeah, tis’ also a great time to be doing the sober thing (eyeroll at myself).

The question is, and will be, once we get through all of this (and we WILL get through it, mind you), how will we choose to approach life? We won’t be the same people, but that’s not a bad thing. We will be ever-changed, hopefully in ways of growth. So, the new challenge will become how do we choose to step into our new era of life? Will we be careful? Will we approach it with wild abandon? What will we do next and how will we do it?

There are a great many lessons to be garnered from the experience of this pandemic. And there are no exact points of comparison in history. We could look at it as a “what not to do” scenario, as I am sure many of us will in one way or another. We should learn these lessons. But also, there are the positives: appreciate time with family, loved ones, and friends; do not take simple things for granted, like toilet paper, going to the grocery store, buying daily coffee, checking the mail without sanitizing wipes…

We will, most likely, cherish our mental and physical health a bit more. Sunny and clear days as well. For me, the natural world - hiking trails, national and state parks, etc - beckon with the warming spring, so I KNOW I will appreciate these more when the shut-in lifts.

In addition, one of my top misses and lessons in appreciation has been just being around people. Right now, I am so freakin’ lonely (more so than usual). But this alone time, and observation from a distance, has also reaffirmed the kindness of community and strangers. I’ve noticed more smiles and hellos from neighbors, along with public figures and businesses that have goldenly shown their true colors in this crisis.

But one thing that I am hoping we have NOT learned is to live in fear.

Some people might come out of this experience with fresh, bold fearlessness. Yet there is the very real risk that some of us might be more inclined toward extra caution in all life matters. I understand this possibility, considering even before the pandemic, I was already a germaphobe and a bit obsessive in regard to certain aspects of my life (especially the care of my furry kiddos). I call it the rug-pulled syndrome, and I struggle with it every day, now even more amplified because of the outbreak. 

My reason for jumpiness stems from my life “falling apart” a few years ago. I had a life that I thought I knew; then, it changed suddenly, and I am still handling the physical, emotional, and financial fallout.

But I’ve decided it’s all worth the risk.

It’s kind of like what happened to me at a state park a few months ago. I was walking my dogs on the beach when, wham, something shot into my foot. I was wearing some pretty sturdy leather boots, and hadn’t seen anything to be careful about, so I was confused. I had been walking on an upper part of the beach with a lot of seaweed and, buried underneath the seaweed, an old, rotted, board with a big nail sticking straight up had eluded my eyes.

My foot was in shock. It throbbed a bit, but, in my boot, I couldn’t tell if it had been entirely impaled. It felt wet and I had visions of blood soaking my sock, but was determined to not panic and hobbled on for the pups. We didn’t go as far as we would have, but I kept on, trying to remember when my last tetanus shot had been. The whole thing wasn’t the possible injury; it was that it came out of nowhere. It was the rug-pulled syndrome on a very small scale. My brain started to spiral.

But it was not nearly as bad as my imaginative brain made it. When I eventually removed my boot, there was no blood, no puncture even. I don’t even know how I escaped that, because it definitely went through the sole of my boot and it HURT.

But even if I had been impaled, I would have gotten through it. My point is that I - and WE - are made of tougher stuff than we think, even when we are caught off guard, as awful as it might feel at the time. And things are often not as bad as they seem. Even when they are, we should not let this bar us from a beach walk with the pups or a frolic in the waves.

We will get through this. And, afterward, we can choose to learn the lessons learned, appreciate everything more, live a bit more carefully, but also enjoy the awesome ride of this life to the fullest, whatever it might bring next. 

The take-aways?

1) Appreciate our fragility

2) Appreciate our amenities

3) Appreciate our blessings

4) Then, GO FOR IT!