Category — Uncategorized

The New York Times had a helpful article on the difference between worry, stress, and anxiety, and how to deal with each one because they’re three separate things.

“Worry is what happens when your mind dwells on negative thoughts, uncertain outcomes or things that could go wrong.” The expert in the article makes the distinction that worry only happens in the mind, not in the body.

So it’s running through scenarios in your mind: some helpful, some not. I mean, it’s helpful to think through potential problems so you can prepare or deflect. It’s not helpful to think through far-fetched scenarios.

I do this a lot. The new stories making predictions about a recession or job loss or everyone dying (or Facebook posts from people regurgitating said news stories) sends me into worry. It’s sort of based in reality in the sense that components are there that could set those possibilities into motion, but it’s not a concrete worry such as, “Did I turn off the burner on the stove?” Because one worry is helpful (hint: the stove one) because I can act on the worry, stop a fire from happening,  and then take the worry out of my head. And the other worry is just… imagination. I don’t have enough information at the moment to do anything beyond what I’m already doing.

The article recommends giving yourself a worry budget (20 minutes of worrying, and then cutting it off), pushing yourself to look at whether or not the worry is actionable, and writing out your worries.

Stress is the physical manifestation of encountering a situation that is outside your control. “In order for the cycle of stress to begin, there must be a stressor. This is usually some kind of external circumstance, like a work deadline or a scary medical test.” The expert recommends exercise (“to recover from the increase of adrenaline and cortisol”), looking for things you can control, and not comparing your stress response to someone else’s stress response.

Finally, anxiety is the bringing together of worry and stress. It’s in the mind AND in the body. The article gives refocusing and distraction ideas to get you out of the anxiety cycle when it pops up.

What are you doing right now to deal with worry, stress, and anxiety in this situation that is fraught with worry, stress, and anxiety?

A listserve I’m on sent out a note with this subject line: I don’t know you, but I miss you.

The writer explains: “I’ve personally never been one to talk to strangers much, but I find myself missing the presence of other people—just generally—more than I could have imagined. I don’t know you, but I miss you.”

Yes.

I used to be indifferent or even annoyed by the people I encountered while out and about. The people who slowly backed into parking spaces, holding up the line forming in the lot. The people who sat in the chairs across from the information desk at the library whom I barely noticed were there.

I’m not a big people person. I usually only miss people I know. But today, I’m just missing the general concept of people. Of being able to duck into the library or grocery store and have a two second exchange with another person, even if it’s just apologizing for bumping into them as we pass each other in an aisle.

What do you miss?

COVID-19 fears and the world imploding.

I was going to end the post there. But I guess I should add other things.

*******

We finally watched the end of the last season of The Good Place. This is a spoiler-free comment. My throat felt tight when Chidi explained the wave analogy and losing people you love:

Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it: its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And… it’s there. You can see it. You know what it is. It’s a wave.

And then it crashes on the shore, and it’s gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be… for a little while. That’s one conception of death, for a Buddhist. The wave returns to the ocean. Where it came from. Where it’s supposed to be.

Even though I’ve heard that analogy before, hearing it from him gutted me. I ended up smushing my face into the covers and sobbing.

*******

We’re on a town listserv for a beach town that we visit about six times per year. I like to keep up with the news even when we’re away. Someone started a thread asking people to describe their perfect day in the town and what they’ll do when shelter-in-place is over.

At first, I happily described picking up books at the bookstore and reading on the beach and eating ice cream every night. It made me feel good to think about how the day would unfold.

But by the time I finished writing my entry, I felt so sad because that day felt so far away. It may not happen for months. Some of the businesses I named may not even be there after this. Which means my perfect day won’t be able to happen.

It feels so strange to have a place be so close but feel so far away at the moment.

*******

Someone asked on Facebook who you want to hug when all of this is over.

My mum and dad.

I really miss them. They live nearby but we’re only seeing each other via video calls. And even before this, a few weeks ago, we moved to elbow-bump goodbyes instead of hugs.

What is making you sad right now?

So you know that song in Pippin “No Time at All” where the grandmother sings that “spring will turn to fall / in just no time at all” to indicate how quickly you move through life? Or the saying, “a May-December” romance?

I spent way too much time trying to figure out how the months correspond to ages. I had to work backwards from the end of the year:

December = 91 – 100
November = 81 – 90
October = 71 – 80
September = 61 – 70
August = 51 – 60
July = 41 – 50
June = 31 – 40
May = 21 – 30
April = 11 – 20
March = 0 – 10

And I guess January and February are a dark zone.

So I’m in the July of my life. Common vacation period in the northern hemisphere. Hot temperatures. Trips to the beach. Abundance of pick-your-own fruit.

Do they say the opposite in the southern hemisphere? That fall will turn to spring? An October-March romance?

This is what happens when I have too much time on my hands.

I couldn’t sleep this past weekend because Josh was going to run to the store in the morning. We used to run to the grocery store at least two times per week. I’d change my mind about dinner, and he’d run to pick up a missing ingredient. Or I’d have an hour wait near the Whole Foods, and I’d run in and pick up a few things.

But we’ve been sheltering in place and not running out. Suddenly grocery shopping felt like a huge deal. Like something to worry about at 2 am.

He left at 7:15 am so he could be at the store when it switched over from elderly shopping hours to normal hours. He managed to get over half of the things on our list, which felt like a major win. It is weird to feel elated over the idea of getting two sweet potatoes when a few weeks ago, we could purchase dozens without a second thought.

There’s an Icelandic saying, “þetta reddast,” which means, “it will work out in the end” (or something close to that). In looking up the saying, I found an old BBC article that contained two perfect quotes: “We just believe in our abilities to fix things. With the conditions we live under, we’re often forced to make the impossible possible.”

And this: “þetta reddast is less a starry-eyed refusal to deal with problems and more an admission that sometimes you must make the best of the hand you’ve been dealt.”

You adapt. You figure out ways around things. You adjust your expectations. You let yourself feel elated that you have two sweet potatoes instead of zero sweet potatoes.