I hit the ground running. There was so much to get done and I’m still behind. I did the best I could, which means I had to readjust from vacation mode to New York City-paced backlog catch-up. Within a few days the vacation glow is flickering.
Sometimes getting away is the space needed to reevaluate what works and what doesn’t. There’s no way I can keep up my current pace. What goes? Time will tell.
The idea of living simply makes perfect sense. I can be still when meditating. The quiet time before my coffee is delightfully simple. The rest of the day is a maze of work, calls, paperwork, walks, family time, dog time, emails, and if I have the energy and a rare opening, a good tv program.
It took me until today, while walking Lucy, to appreciate the cool air on the East River Promenade, without my phone, without a podcast, without distraction. Just Lucy and I strolling along. When I was away, I was able to go for swims. I love the tranquility of an empty lap pool. Though I have yet to find a quiet pool in the city, my walk with Lucy brought calm to my otherwise hectic days.
Self-Care Tips
Find a new book, tv program, a movie, or something you can enjoy at the end of busy days.
Try to go for a quiet walk without a phone or other interferences. Notice what it’s like to move peacefully.
Play the make-believe drums with spatulas and pots. Get out all your frustration by tapping into your inner child pretending to be a rock star.
Over fifteen years ago I organized a networking event for psychotherapists and others in related fields. I hosted it in my office garden and prepared a beautiful buffet of crudité and homemade dips and finger food. I received a lot of maybes, and about fifteen said they would attend. Of course, I over-estimated and prepared too much food. In the end I had five guests, two just stopped by.
It was an intimate event. The four of us were able to appreciate and understand what each of us offered clients, and it ended on a positive note. However, I was mortified that more people didn’t come. I was embarrassed for myself, and felt I let my colleagues down. It was challenging to stay focused with the other women who came. Instead I spent too much energy focusing on who wasn’t there.
It harkened back to parties in elementary school and junior high to which I was never invited. Or times when the red rope was not unhooked for me at Studio 54 and the Palladium. The rejection felt personal. I was not one of the chosen ones.
Since those times I realize I do better in small groups or one on one. I get too distracted at large parties. Yet, as I currently work on a book, mostly on odd weekends, I have been told by so many that I need a platform. That means that I must amass followers and readers. I always feel awkward when asking for others to read my work. Larry, my husband, may be the exception.
I like writing, but I don’t like marketing for myself. It feels too much like my 10-year-old-self asking to be liked. No, thank you. I will continue to create this book on getting through difficult times with self-care tips, slowly and painstakingly. I don’t know that I’ll get an agent or get it published. Nonetheless, I will proceed, trusting that I don’t need to be someone I’m not just to be popular. It is not in my best interest to consider numbers rather than you, dear reader.
Self-care Tips:
Affirm that you are enough. Write “I Am Enough” on post-its and place one on a corner of your bathroom mirror, and other places you view daily (inside a drawer, on your refrigerator door, etc.)
Learn a new song. It can be easier to remember things put to music. So learning a new song is a great way to exercise your brain.
Remind yourself that bigger is not necessarily better. When plans change and you have a smaller event (as in these past 18 months) find the sweetness in the intimacy of the experience.
As a young child I delighted in our Magnavox HiFi. I would sit on the scratchy green wool sofa in our den while listening to Rosemary Clooney. Her album, Rosemary Clooney Sings for Children with its pink background was a clear favorite. I loved the track, Betsy, My Paper Doll, because I was the lucky recipient of the Betsy McCall paper dolls hidden in the pages of my mother’s McCall’s Magazine. The other song that spoke to me was The Little Shoemaker because my father was in the shoe business. At six, it felt like Rosemary Clooney was singing to me personally. I hadn’t realized Rosemary Clooney was an icon until years later when I watched her sing with Bing Crosby in White Christmas on the Sunday Million Dollar Movie.
Recently I was reminded of that album while walking in Central and Carl Shurz Parks in this time of transition. On the grass are one- and two year-olds in a safely distanced semi-circle with their caregivers listening to Broadway level singers shaking egg instruments and leading the children in song. They are singing their hearts out to their young audiences who may or may not be singing along. Each performer grateful for any gig as theater crawls back from being dark.
How fortunate I was to have enjoyed the musical styling of a great songstress. And, how lucky these toddlers are to meet up with some of the best singers from around the country. It’s not clear if it’s simply a part of their activity schedule or if the family values the influence of music in our lives. Either way, I appreciate walking past them remembering the simple touch of my mother’s hand when placing the needle gently on the spinning album even when I asked to hear it again and again.
In addition to Rosemary Clooney, I heard Lena Horne, Harry Belafonte, Ray Charles, Bobby Darin, Julie Andrews, Judy Garland, and many more who allude my memory, crooning through our oak HiFi. On Sundays we listened to opera on the classical radio station. That’s when my grandparents visited. We all sat quietly on the same itchy green sofa or love seat. If we couldn’t be quiet, we had to go play in the basement. I favored Puccini and Mozart. The songs felt pretty to me. But not having an album cover to attempt to read was a limitation that had me go to the basement after an aria or two.
I’m not listening to enough music these days. It’s time to open-up iTunes and delight in Rosemary Clooney and friends.
Self-Care Tips:
Play music you used to enjoy. Take in the memories and notice how the songs and music impact you now
Take a walk and see what associations you conjure. What recollections come to mind?
Create new memories by sharing music with someone you respect. If possible, listen together. If you can’t, you can enjoy the association with the music.
I shifted my routine earlier this week to catch the sunrise. Typically I relish the space between sleep and daytime. The sweet spot of the morning. Following those moments I shift into meditation, then move on from there with coffee and the rest of the day. As soon as I awoke I brushed my teeth and ran to the East River to get a glimpse of the sunrise.
It was a cloudy day, and the sun was hidden. No bright colors, just hues of grey. At first I was disappointed. It’s not often I get out to take a peek of the sun coming into view. But then it occurred to me that this was a perfect metaphor for this time in transition. We all want to see the sun but instead we’re stuck with gray skies. The anticipated bright horizon more of an idea than a clear vision.
We expected, as we’ve done in the past, for things to move along until we could live again as we had pre-pandemic. Instead, we’re in this mist. Some of our days look similar to what we’ve known before, but it’s still hazy and not clear enough to navigate straight ahead. We’re living in a miasma of uncertainty.
We thought that we would have to endure fear, loss, and ambiguity for a fixed period of time. Then we could face our futures because of these important, albeit, unwelcome experiences. We could frame the pandemic with stories of what we’ve endured along with life lessons we were forced to learn. But the discomfort has expanded to an indefinite stretch of time. We are still reeling. Our fears remain palpable.
Nevertheless, I am going to continue to look for the sunrise when I wake up too early. And, when the clouds are heavy I will find simple ways to comfort myself. I’ll walk, drink water, read something fun, eat a peach, and rest well. I’ll take care of myself as best I can, then I’ll see what’s needed by those I love, and by those who are in more need. I’ll continue to face my days acknowledging my limitations while moving past barriers that keep me stuck. I’ll get it wrong and try again. In that way I keep going while in transition.
Self-care Tips:
When you find you’re being hard on yourself, think about what you’re attempting to learn and shift your focus on the lesson, seeing this moment as part of your learning.
Remind yourself that it takes time to learn patience.
Eat a peach or other fresh fruit or vegetables. Summer is a great time to savor the land’s bounty.
When I was a child our family would pack into our Ford station-wagon and head out to Pennypacker Park to watch the fireworks. We played in the playground or chased fireflies until the moment when it became dark. Then the night would light up and we cheered with delight as we gazed skyward. It felt magical to enjoy a hot night of colorful pyrotechnics. The crack, pop and whiz of the fireworks foretold if we’d be seeing a Roman Candle or a burst of high-definition pink chrysanthemum. My favorite was the waterfall, cascading sparkles in the sky.
Online Stock Image
Tonight I may skip the fireworks. Fortunate to live in New York City where the Macy’s fireworks grace the darkness over the East River, I am reticent to stand among so many on the East River Promenade to catch a glimpse of the larger displays. It is not only that we are making our way out of a pandemic, it’s more that I don’t like myself so much when I jockey to find the right spot and stake my claim. I become territorial and highly suspicious of my fellow humans. Some come with young children, and I turn into an angry older woman afraid that they will block my view by placing their toddler on their shoulders. Those moments as I wait do not showcase my best self. I am greedy about my space, selfishly competitive to those who only seek an evening of summer recreation.
After spending so much time these past fifteen months learning more patience, enjoying moments of solitude, I think stepping away from the fireworks will be an act of kindness for myself as well as the nameless strangers who I might secretly hold in contempt. I’d rather bask in my young memories. I was less cynical then. That child in me still feels the awe of the seven-year-old in Pennypacker Park. The sparkle of a childhood recollection reignites the magic of an earlier time.
Self-Care Tools:
Think of the ways you’ve grown during the pandemic and find ways to foster that growth as we transition.
Take a mental health day. If you can’t take the day off, perhaps you can give yourself and hour or two. And, if you don’t have any time to spare, take a minute to touch base with yourself.
When things didn’t turn out how you would have liked, remember to say to yourself, ‘it’s not what I wanted, but it’s what I’ve got.’ Sometimes it just keeps it real.
I woke up early and ran to the East River promenade to get a glimpse of the sunrise. I almost forgot my mask, but quickly put it in my pocket testing the waters of walking down the block without one. No one was wearing masks but the few of us out were all at least 20 feet apart. That felt comfortable enough for me.
As we all know, the CDC, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, updated their mask mandate. For a couple of days now more and more people are on the streets and in the parks maskless. I love being able to see the many faces of the city. Yet, I also feel mask shy. I would have preferred a step-by-step shift during this transitional period. Instead I’m hearing people mention mask burning parties. I hear plans to make up for lost time. There is warmth and excitement in the air, as well as a good measure of apprehension.
I may be progressive in my political thinking, but I’m conservative in my Covid-19 opinions. I want more people to get vaccinated, making it safer for all of us. I liked the illusion of security I felt when everyone was wearing a mask. Well, mostly everyone.
My ambivalence is present when I remove my mask to enjoy the aromatic lilacs in the park. I then test the boundaries by walking with my mask on my wrist should I need to quickly don the face covering when others pass by. After exiting a store, I forget to take it off since a more recent habit has me wearing it inside and out.
To quell the mixed feelings I focus on the flowers in front of apartment buildings, in window boxes, and the beautiful plantings in the gardens and parks. Whatever I may be experiencing, ambivalence and all, Spring colors, longer days, and warmer air all seem to make it easier to get through this time in transition.
Self-Care Tips:
Stop and smell the flowers.
Take a walk. Whether you go around the block or enjoy an afternoon stroll, there’s nothing like a walk on a Spring day to feel refreshed.
Enjoy in-season fruit and vegetables from a farmer’s market or farm stand.
This past week I posted a birthday wish for my 22-year-old child on FaceBook. So many share the downside of social media. And, yes, there are downsides, nonetheless, my most recent experience has been one of kindness and care. In the past I’ve been reunited with friends near and far with whom I had lost touch. Some have since passed away. And, social media, namely FaceBook, gave us a chance to reconnect, reminding us of the moments that have shaped us.
This past week I came out as a parent of a trans child. He has been out for years throughout the transition process. I stayed silent for the most part. I had much to learn from Alex and the community, and I didn’t feel ready to speak while I educated myself and grow as a parent, therapist and human. I have friends on FaceBook who share different religious beliefs. I have friends who live very different lifestyles than that of our urban world. Yet, the outpouring of love, support, care, and good will was extraordinary. I felt meaningful connections rather than disparity.
There are many times social media can seem like a window into a polished world. One in which I can find myself feeling a good deal of envy for milestones or experiences I haven’t achieved or may never know. It’s imperative that we live our own lives without measuring our successes based on others. Yet, I find that challenging, and often fall short. The responses to my most recent post remind me of the generous hearts far and wide.
Sadly, I can get caught up in the behavior of annoying strangers or hateful acts in the news. It’s easy to feel despairing of humankind. However, when I take in the love shared, I am filled with the healing power of kindness. My friends and family have reminded me that thoughtfulness is natural for most of us, and it always behooves me to live in that truth. I will endeavor to focus on the good will I see. And when I stray, much as my thoughts can stray in meditation, I will bring myself back to the reality of pervasive good will.
It’s foggy this morning. How apropos for these times. Our minds are foggy. Well, mine is. By the end of any given day I have limited access to names and words. If I want to relax in the evening, I’m challenged to remember one of a number of shows I enjoy watching.
It also seems foggy when we think of moving forward. We are slowly making our way back to a life previously known. I’d love to travel, dine out, enjoy theater. Yet, I am more cautious now, valuing health and safety over social luxuries. Presently, travel consists of walking to Central Park. Though today I moved through the fog to Randall’s Island where I soon got lost. It was a bit of a challenge not being able to find my bearings since distance visibility was obliterated by low clouds.
In general, this morning’s walk is very much how I’m getting through these days in the time of Coronavirus. I can’t see anything in the distance so I’m reliant on what is right in front of me. What’s right in front of me is quite simple. I work. I write. I prepare simple meals. I eat. Larry and I laugh, when I’m not being defensive or critical. I walk. If I’m feeling really adventurous, I take out my bike. Every morning I meditate. Every night I sleep, lucky if I do it well enough. Of course, there are other things that fill in my days, but my brain is foggy, and I can’t think of much more now.
As the haze of the pandemic continues to blanket our days, we will take one step at a time to find our way to safer ground. Are we there yet? No. But we’re steps closer. Given all we’ve been through, we can trust our ability to persist through the mist.
Self-Care Tips:
Nostalgia! Throwback to another time.
Listen to music you enjoyed at a younger age
Play a game that used to be fun for you.
Find scents that elicit positive memories, whether it’s from a bakery, a freshly mowed lawn, or from a family member’s fragrance tray.
I’ve been confused. I thought I knew myself. Instead, who I knew was a woman who was highly influenced by the world around me. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just wasn’t representative of the totality of me. We’ve all been there. Whether we’re enticed by a product commercial, or whether we want to join in on experiences with those who surround us, we make choices based on an outside influence. Sometimes this works to our advantage. I’ve visited beautiful places based on recommendations. I’ve also spent a good amount of money on things I didn’t need, and ultimately didn’t want.
There are some things that have been a constant. I knew what I liked, theater, work, blueberry crumb muffins. I knew what I didn’t like, loud noises like relentless car horns in stuck traffic, or people who take up the entire sidewalk making it impossible to pass. Nothing has changed on those fronts. I have noticed that I like a lot more now, though, than my previous short list.
I like my garden much more than in the past. I’m enjoying it more, too. I’m a squeamish gardener at best. For some reason getting my hands dirty is not fun for me. For instance, as much as I love lobster, I am no fan of pulling it apart to secure the tender meat. But choosing flowers and enjoying a small and rare patch of green in the city is as good as it gets while I find my way back into the larger world.
I’m also much more appreciative of the small things. Kindness, whether from a friend who reaches out, or a stranger who keeps a door open, mean so much to me. I am grateful for Alex’s late night texts filled with bad jokes, and lots of love. I am grateful that Larry washed the dishes last night after a long day at work. He did it without me asking, or even before I could complain that I had one more thing to do.
There are many things that I would not have known about myself had the world not changed drastically. Surprisingly, birds have been nice to see. In the past I appreciated the bright red cardinals I’d pass, but I was nonplussed by other avian varieties. Now, when walking in the park I look up to see all sizes and colors of birds, enjoying the brief siting as I move through the now leafy spaces. Most importantly to me, I’m not missing the many activities that defined my evenings. I assumed I’d be bored if I did less. Not so. I am better rested. I feel more grateful. Letting go feels easier.
An unexpected benefit of this time of Coronavirus is being untethered from much of the external influences. Other than Netflix, along with other cable programming, choices are limited. That’s helped me and others make choices that feel personally authentic. It allows for a freedom we didn’t know possible. Our worlds grew smaller, and our hearts expanded.
Self-Care Tips:
Find something in your drawers you forgot you have but brings a smile.
Take a private moment to enjoy something that is fun for you, it could be dancing alone, singing in the shower, or drawing. It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not.
This past week proved to be particularly challenging for so many of my clients, as well as friends and colleagues. Walking through the city brings a needed brightness as the early signs of Spring appear. The warm air feels fresh. The cooler air keeps the parks emptier. Either has its benefits.
Though we’ve become accustom to our pandemic routines, it seems unbelievable that we’re beyond a year in the time of Coronavirus. As with all things far-fetched, it takes time and repetition to integrate the reality of these circumstances. We got through the past year (plus a few weeks) by imagining a time beyond the pandemic. At present, though, we’re left with an uncertainty that belies our peace of mind.
I am counting on the same anchors to continue getting through this. The sun rises every day. When I’m awake in time, I go to the East River to start my day. The beauty envelops me, and I let it. Though I don’t get a good view of sunsets, I do appreciate the changing lights at dusk that I witness when facing west. And I always appreciate the photographs of others’ sunsets when posted.
Then there’s meditation. Some days it’s as if I’m being lifted up. Other mornings meditating feels like a long time to be with a racing mind. Similar with a gratitude journal. Some days my heart is open, and then there are the days when I have to push for appreciation of simple things. I have so much for which to be grateful, but exhaustion and a hazy mood sometimes get the better of me.
We’ve learned a lot during this time. Though I adore the city, it has been nature that grounds me, providing peace and joyful moments. I have learned the importance of rest. Prior to March 2020, I took advantage of all the city had to offer. I lived by the Warren Zevon credo, “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead.” Now I’m sleeping, napping, being still, resting, or simply, taking it easy to enjoy living, as best I can.
This year has slowed me down. There is still so much to get done, but my to do list is less important than listening to friends and family, doing the work I love, and looking up at the sky. Glad that Spring is in the air.
Self-Care Tips:
* Take a break. Sometimes stepping away is the best choice.
* Find a small smooth stone to rub when you need soothing.
* Try flavored salts. They add another dimension to dishes.
* When noticing a behavior or habit you don’t like, rather than judge, ask what might be happening that prompted the behavior, and bring compassion.
* Look up at the sky and enjoy the sun, the clouds, the stars and the moon.
janetzinn 