Whenever I find myself feeling righteous for some reason life humbles me, reminding me that in so many ways we’re all in this together. I had staved off Coronavirus since February 2020. I felt proud of my record. When Omicron came on the scene I started wearing masks indoors and out. I felt mostly protected from the virus and the cold. All was well. That ended a couple of weeks ago when I contracted the virus and was put out for days.
I don’t know why they call them mild cases. True, I was fortunate enough to stay at home, but it sure kicked my butt. I haven’t remembered being that sick for years. It felt like the worst flu I ever had and then some. Luckily, I’m on the mend. I knew I was getting better when I had the wherewithal to start complaining.
Funny how feeling ill softens my edges. And at the first sign of feeling physically better I leaned towards pessimism. As much as I loathed being under the weather, I think the simplicity of life while healing will serve me well now that I am well.
Self-Care Tips:
Rest Up. We easily neglect down time. The rest is what keeps us going.
Leave small notes of affirmations in drawers, on the mirror, or anywhere else in your home. You can write post-its saying things like, “You’re Awesome” or “Be Curious” or anything that has meaning for you.
Try making a new soup. Simple if you have no time or challenging if you want to expand your repertoire.
I keep deluding myself into thinking I know the best formula for getting through these difficult times. I meditate twice daily. I make sure I don’t make plans more than once a week, except in special circumstances. I go for daily walks. I work. I try to make easy dinner a few times a week. I like doing all these things. While I’m doing them, I feel perfectly fine. But in other moments I am short-tempered. I am impatient. I long for more assistance. I understand how fortunate I am to have supportive people in my life. But we all need extra scaffolding, and since most of us are depleted, we have less inner resources from which to give.
When I get heated, lash out, or feel deflated, I know I am far from being balanced. I was never athletic, and I could barely do a cartwheel in gym class, but throughout school I felt comfortable on the balance beam. Not skilled, but able to stay upright. Now at a more advanced age, I feel at ease with balance stances on my yoga mat. But feeling steadied after a full day of work and a few minutes facing my to-do lists is not an available option these days. I am off-balance.
For months on end during the pandemic I was keen on regaining whatever balance I had before. That wasn’t working so I tried to find a new balance. Perhaps for some that’s a possibility, but I can only speak for myself, and I was nowhere near anything I could call balanced, beam or no beam. Now I’m not quite embracing the collective destabilizing forces, but I am doing what I can to live in it.
Yes, walking helps. True, carving out alone time makes a difference. Saying no when I don’t have the wherewithal. And saying yes when opening myself up to something out of my routine gives me renewed joy. All simple, but not always easy. I am grateful for laughter and art as balms in this uncertain storm. It allows me to come back to myself. A place in which I can be kind to myself and others, understanding most of us are a bit wobbly as we try to regain our footing.
Self-Care Tips:
Have a private Karaoke. Turn up a song and sing along loudly, releasing your inner artistic spirit.
Get a small plant while practicing loving discipline. Choose a commitment level by picking out a plant you can easily care for.
Read a short story. It gives you a sense of accomplishment without a long-term reading commitment.
I made plans months ago to get away this past week. I was heading to a conference that was cancelled last January. Looking forward to warm weather and outdoor dining, Omicron thwarted our quasi-vacation. Instead, I am in my apartment lamenting my unrealized trip.
Most of us have had to reroute our former intentions. The only traveling I did this week was mostly by foot. Though I did take one jaunt by ferry to Astoria Park to enjoy the opposite view of the East River. Not quite the coastline I had pictured, but the one closest to home.
I’m hearing about Covid fatigue left, right, and center. Without recovering from the initial stall of all that we knew to be our lives, we are plodding through the ever expanding unknown. Here and there we enjoy bright spots. But just as quickly we are easily agitated by small disturbances. At least that describes my experience.
I’m still making tentative travel plans, ever hopeful for shifts in the health of our world. I may have missed the boat, or rather, plane, this time, but I’m not giving up on future travel. For now, I have books to take me to new places.
Self-Care Tips:
Clean out old emails. If you’re anything like me, unless it’s junk, I keep some emails just in case. This weekend, I’m purging old emails. I invite you to join me.
Take the time to unsubscribe from unwanted solicitations. If that’s too much, start with one a day.
Have a plan B. If and when plans shift, you have something else you can enjoy in the meantime.
Welcome to 2022. There are a lot of surprises in store. I’ll be surprised along-side you. I’m calling it the “New Abnormal” due to the fact that it’s been abnormal for awhile. A new normal doesn’t resonate with me since there have been too many tectonic shifts these last couple of years. Although this new abnormal is, well, new, I am no stranger to abnormal.
When I was 9 years old I secretly played with Barbies. Under our ping pong table in the basement, I created a world that entertained me for hours. I quickly came to understand that my third-grade classmates were not still playing with their Barbie dolls. At least no one admitted to it. They had moved on to more sophisticated toys like the Zig Zag sewing machine or the totally cool walkie-talkies. But I relished my alone time away from my three siblings to do as I pleased, inventing new roles that my small dolls could inhabit. Even later when I was to learn that Barbie was no friend to feminists, I silently appreciated those precious years when they provided me with a gateway to my creative mind.
As much as I loved those solo hours under the table, on Sundays my Grandpop, Sam, would play ping pong with me, my Barbies far from underneath the table in the appropriate cases tucked into the basement closet. My Grandpop was quite athletic. When he played ping pong, he played to win. I only learned the game by trying to keep up. He usually won. But he never gloated. He was a humble man, who taught me the importance of doing a good job for oneself.
At school I was relentlessly teased for my frizzy hair, my hand-me-down wardrobe, or my socially awkward demeanor. To certain kids at Stafford School, I was abnormal. It felt like an unwanted burden as a tween. As an adult, especially in this time of Coronavirus, I have come to understand that having had a tough beginning was the introduction I needed to get through difficult times.
As we enter 2022, we all have a sense of what it takes when the unexpected comes. We’ve had plenty of practice these last 22 months. Abnormal times require abnormal qualities. I may have been unpopular playing with my Barbies, but being able to entertain myself for long periods of time in my own company has served me well. Plus enjoying the company and sportsmanship of my Grandpop has given me an ease with quiet focus. Let’s rejoice in what’s distinct from others. Celebrating our inner abnormalities may just get us through this new year.
Self-Care Tips:
Laugh a little. Watch a Betty White clip on YouTube or elsewhere.
Clean out something simple as a signal for a fresh beginning. It can be a drawer, a pencil holder, a room, your refrigerator or freezer, your oven or a closet. Throw out what doesn’t serve you anymore. If you can recycle it or repurpose it, great.
In what ways have you known yourself to veer from the crowd? If it’s something that gives you pleasure and it doesn’t harm you or anyone else, allow yourself the grace to appreciate and enjoy your “inner abnormal.”
2021 was so, so long. In this last week I have little interest in reviewing this past year. The fact that I, that we, got through it is good enough for me.
The good news is that not looking back, at least for now, keeps me in the moment. My quandary is whether I‘ve chosen mindfulness or denial. If I choose mindfulness, then there’s space for my denial. If I go with a state of denial, then who cares? I will not decide. I will opt for a “both/and” rather than an “either/or” scenario.
The effort that goes into a binary dilemma is too great. We spend so much attention making an argument for our point of view. The more I defend a specific position I take, the less likely I am to learn something new.
So long, 2021. I will not miss you. I appreciate much from this past year. Larry and I moved to a nicer home. We didn’t know we could do it, yet here we are. I continue to enjoy a hybrid private practice, in-person and virtually. 365 sunrises and sunsets made for beautiful light. Being in touch with friends and family, when possible, brought love and laughter. Reading new essays, books, and articles enriched me. Not finishing books, no matter how highly praised by critics, was pure relief. And daily walks always expanded my vision. For those and many other gifts I am grateful.
However, having to reach to our depths to get through a full year of the pandemic unnerved most of us. Our tempers were shorter, our patience wanting. We are at the final stretch. It’s less than a week until we ring in the new year. For me it will be less of a new beginning than it will be a step forward. Another step into the unknown.
Self-Care Tips:
Take the pressure off New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. If you have plans have fun and stay safe. If you don’t have plans, enjoy the simplicity of staying in.
Rather than making New Year’s resolutions, think of what you might like to let go of.
Regift. If what you received isn’t for you for any reason, find those around you who would appreciate it. Or donate. Either way, it’s a win-win.
I’m finding this holiday season to be quite odd. On the one hand, many of us are able to travel, visit with friends and family, and celebrate the holidays in person rather than on Zoom. On the other hand, our nervous systems have been taxed beyond what we thought possible as we forge ahead.
I so appreciate the invitations I’ve received for in-person celebrations. And, yet, I just don’t feel up to it. I am less inclined to have small talk. I like to see people, but not much is new in terms of life changes, and I don’t have the wherewithal to listen even though I’m interested. So I sit out the parties. Parties I yearned to attend in my 20s and 30s. Parties I will forego in my 60s while we still cope with a pandemic.
When we ask, “how much more can we endure?”, we’re simply given more. Plodding ahead, a bit slower than before. Sometimes I can delight in a small moment. Such as walking with a friend or enjoying a chance meeting in Central Park. Other times I am enraged by what would seem an insignificant event.
Today my face burned as I attempted to walk around a family who abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to adjust something in their stroller. It wasn’t an emergency and they had plenty of room had they cared to walk a couple of steps moving closer to the curb. I have little patience for those who are not considerate of others. Simple kindnesses go a long way. I soften when someone is gentle or thoughtful. Later in the day a neighbor helped me with a package, and I could have cried from gratitude. Ambivalence and a general malaise have ruled these last months. It’s kind of like a throwback to my adolescence, or maybe even menopause. Two stages I would have preferred to leave in the past. Yet here I am, moody and grateful.
Self-Care Tools:
Smile to a stranger. Know that they, too, are going through a lot
Allow yourself to slow down. It’s easier to make room for your feelings, your process, or anything you’re experiencing when you slow down, take a breath, and say, “In this moment this is where I am.”
Take a bath. If you can, find some bath soap paint that washes away. Create art on your body, in the tub, then wash it away. It’s fun and it will be a reminder of the impermanence of our situation.
We’re about to ascend upon Thanksgiving and the winter holidays. I’m grateful for a quiet dinner with Larry and a restful weekend. I’ve been looking forward to this coming weekend since rest is usually ad hoc, and I am often trying to locate windows of opportunity to relax.
There’s a lot written on the power of gratitude. It’s the cornerstone of positive psychology and Western mindfulness practices. My life has changed significantly by incorporating a daily gratitude practice. When I was younger I felt like a victim. I looked at hard circumstances as a reflection of my inability to manifest a better life. It was a form of self-criticism that could be relentless. Though I enjoyed fun times, my focus was on what I hoped to have or what I didn’t have. Mostly it was a deprivation mindset. And, if something good came my way but it didn’t meet my expectations, I would be crest fallen. Needless to say this was so frustrating for those close to me.
Now, I’ve probably moved too far in the other direction. I acknowledge the good in my life. However, sometimes I omit how hard it’s been. That can feel inauthentic.
I admit, these have been a hard couple of years. And, within the difficulties have been beautiful walks throughout the city. The pandemic taught me the importance of rest. We moved. I now have a daily view of the sun rising. Larry and I are communicating better, thus enjoying each other more. Our trans son, Alex, who began the medical transition a year ago, though it was many years in the making, is finding his way in the world. His transition is ongoing. I have amazing friends. And, I started this blog at the start of the pandemic. I am grateful.
It’s more of a stretch to be grateful for health concerns, expanding mental health needs in the city and in the world. I’m not grateful for growing inflation, though I do appreciate my ability to edit shopping lists by asking myself, “Do I really need this?” What a mixed bag we’re in. Nonetheless, if we focus on the small victories. If we have the courage to find the good among those who are angry and dissatisfied, we can move forward rather than being held back. Rather than imposing forced gratitude on those around us, let’s share our thanks for what they contribute to us. Give thanks while letting other get thanks.
Self-Care Tips:
Simply say thank you the next time you’re complimented. Stay with the gratitude the person or people shared while enjoying the exchange.
Find small moments that bring deep satisfaction. It can be a private moment, or it can be shared. Either way, take it in. Breathe.
Write a Thank You note to yourself. What has made you proud? Can you be grateful for trying? See if you can appreciate the positive you bring to your life.
When I was a young child and my bedtime was 7:30, the advent of a darker evening meant that I was awake longer while the night sky became opaque. It felt as if I was staying up later, even though I understood in theory I was going to bed at the same time. Since the pandemic my bedtime has gotten earlier. I go out less, plus I got older these past 19 months. I have yet to go to bed at 7:30, but it feels easy to get into bed when it’s been dark for a few hours.
The advantage to this is that the sun rises later giving me a chance to wake up with time for coffee and a very short walk to the East River promenade to get a picture of the morning’s dawn. I love how frequently the light changes from moment to moment and from day to day. While our world has changed in so many ways, I appreciate the regularity of the sun. Even on cloudy or rainy days, the sun may not make an appearance, but trusting it resides behind the clouds gives me great comfort.
There is a simple joy in recognizing the beauty in nature. While a city girl at heart, getting away, or finding the green patches among the concrete, is a balm for the soul. The cool weather sunrises, and when possible, the sunsets provide a colorful array of grace. Those moments have been invaluable in bringing ease during these tenuous times.
Self-care Tips:
Enjoy sunrises and sunsets. If you don’t have a view of them, there are amazing pictures online. Thank you to those who post such gorgeous photographs.
Ground yourself by standing on grass, rocks, or other solid earthbound foundations. Feel your feet connecting to the earth. Stand tall so that you feel as if the crown of your head is extended from an invisible cord skyward.
If your schedule permits, allow the early dark evenings to ease you into a sense of restfulness.
I’m teary this weekend. It’s hard to watch the news because my mind pivots to the many clients who spoke of their losses the days, months, and years post-9/11. As we commemorate the 20th anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, those of us who remember can clearly recall the exact circumstances when we witnessed or heard of the attacks. I am one of the fortunate who worked downtown, but I had taken the day off to attend a seminar. I never worked in the World Trade Center, but our social service center had a direct view. There were so many other stories like that of those who for unforetold circumstances were not in the towers when they fell.
I was out of social work school for three years when the planes crashed. Having had training in trauma, but not much experience, I was asked to work with employees in companies who were downtown. It was a quick, intensive training on mental health first response. I had the privilege of listening to individual stories in a new chapter in tragically disrupted lives. Each person I heard had so much courage. They came from all walks of life surviving while countless loved ones, coworkers, colleagues, and others did not make it.
I recall the kindness and caring that New Yorkers shared. There was a common grace for others. Sadly, I also remember the fear from Muslim friends and those from the Middle East who were harshly judged, misunderstood, or seen as the enemy. Their love of our shared country unacknowledged. On the one hand there were so many acts of kindness. On the other hand, there was so much blame going around.
So much sadness, so much anxiety. Both defined the days and months that followed.
Post-trauma can alter our nervous systems. Twenty years later we’re all familiar with that. The last eighteen months have played havoc on our nervous systems. Sometimes we are upset or act out which then affects others who are in a vulnerable state, and on it goes.
It’s a challenge to give someone else the benefit of the doubt when there is so little room to accept our own confused emotions. With practice we have a bit more patience, a bit more benevolence to get through these days without rushing to judgement of ourselves and others. I cried today. I could have gone on the defensive. Well, I did for a bit, then I cried some more, understanding that vulnerability was the strength I needed to harness rather than residing in a distrustful stance. So many moments leading to big changes.
Self-Care Tips:
When you react with anger, impatience or in an accusatory manner, take a moment to ask yourself what might be going on. Then, if you’re able, see if there’s something you can do to care for yourself. Perhaps a few minutes to regroup.
Stretch. It’s easy. And it can help to move to the next moment with ease.
Read a child’s book or poem aloud. Read it in a voice other than your own. Being silly and indulging in play is a mood changer.
Transitions can be tricky. We usually wish for a straightforward line to the next signpost, but what we often get is a winding road uphill. That is certainly the case these days. This past week is a perfect example of changed plans and tragic outcomes. Water and fire have altered lives irrevocably.
The news is full of sweeping coverage of homes lost and displaced families. In addition, we know of or are hearing of personal stories of loss and vulnerability. I am one of the fortunate ones. I was not in our subway system, and I am not in a flood zone. I hadn’t gone on Facebook, so I wasn’t aware that we could indicate we were safe. Sometimes I’m just clueless about social media. I’m still uncertain how to navigate Instagram.
However, some friends and family in other parts of the country, and other parts of the world were so thoughtful in reaching out to see if I was okay. These are simple, caring acts that are deeply appreciated. In my day-to-day I get caught up in whatever is in front of me. I’m not great about being in touch with friends and family. Sometimes I’m even criticized for it, though I never find that approach inviting.
Life can get very full very fast. But this week taught me that being in someone’s heart is not a matter of how many times I’ve called or written. I so appreciate that. I know it’s true for me. Throughout any given week, I recall a moment or a personal exchange with someone I consider close, and I smile. Unbeknownst to them they provide sustained joy over time.
There have been a good many people who have given their time, attention, love and humor. I am forever grateful. For that, thank you to those who reached out to me or to others. It matters. It matters a lot.
Self-Care Tips:
Send a simple text or IM to let someone know you’re thinking of them
Play music aligned with your emotions. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, play Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. If you’re a bit playful, listen to Gershwin. Or, if you’re wistful perhaps Aaron Copland will do.
Go to a different Janet Zinn’s website for stunning nature pictures: https://www.jczinn.com
janetzinn 