Stressing About Stress, Week 22 in the Time of Coronavirus

Posted on August 10, 2020 by janetgzinn

Oh Boy, another opportunity to stress. We are going away to unload stress from city living, and yet here I am stressing about going away. I’ve gotten used to the steady hum of anxiety just below the surface. I have yet to speak to anyone during the pandemic that hasn’t acknowledged added stress. These feelings manifest themselves in many forms. For me, I have a hard time focusing, going from one task to another without completing any of them until I’ve come back around twice.

For the first time in years we will be at a place where there is no WiFi or cell service. To that end I set a deadline for myself to complete this post before we left. Last night was my made-up target. When I failed to do that, I had to search for another word rather than fail to come back to myself with some patience and understanding. Now I’m telling myself I simply did not finish this last night, and am doing that now.

This also meant that my walk, run or bike ride was going to be short today. I didn’t wake up early. Instead I slept until I woke naturally and abbreviated my previous goals. Perhaps we’ll settle in early enough for me to take a walk around the large property this evening. Or, not. Either way, we’re on an adventure. I am in turns, excited and nervous. And I’m interested how my stress will wane in the wooded Catskills.

Self-Care Tips

Do something sensual. This isn’t necessarily sexual. This has to do with your five senses. Find a scent you like, make touch a sensate experience. Mold clay, taste something divine. Listen to the birds or music, or secondary sounds.
Make-up with yourself. Think of something for which you got mad at yourself. Now let yourself know that you are your own reclaimed friend. As a friend to yourself you may feel more inclined to treat yourself with respect and compassion.
Learn something new. Whether you listen to someone who knows something you didn’t know, or whether you look up information online on a site like lifehacker.com or zidbits.com, it’s fun to learn facts, hacks or material new to you.
Do it differently. Like I had to shorten my run today, as well as my blog post, it can be relieving to accomplish something outside your routine.
Get away. If you’re not going anywhere try a virtual tour on Fodor’s or another travel website. Or, take a new route on a walk. Or leave your home for a safe place in a new venue. All can expand your outlook.

When Will This End? Coronavirus Blog 5

Posted on April 13, 2020 by janetgzinn

We’ve hunkered down and we’ve stayed the course. We’re tired, we’re unfocused, we’re cranky, and we’re over it. Yet, caring for ourselves and making sure we’re all well is not a one-time deal. I hate that. In all things I prefer to go after something, get it done, appreciate what I’ve accomplished and then, Bam, I can go on to the next thing. Take cleaning. It’s been a great distraction to clean. My office is sparkling. My closets are in order. Yet when I was dressing this morning, I saw that things were not exactly the way they were when I refolded and cleared out my drawers on Friday. And when I got to my office today, I could see dust accumulating again. Cleaning can be great, but it’s a never-ending job. And, that’s pretty much how it feels to move on with life during the Coronavirus.

I didn’t think it would be easy to cancel all my plans, work remotely, and live in a small apartment with my family, each of us with our own style of being. Nor did I know that who I thought I was prior to the Coronavirus needed an update during social distancing. I am more defensive, and less productive than I imagined I’d be at the start of this. I have to dredge up self-compassion from well below the self-criticism that has become the proverbial inner-chatter. I need more sleep. I’m reading less. I’m deleting emails with recommendations on best practices now. There’s too much to read, watch, and engage in.

My impatience, and, I imagine, the impatience of so many of us, to “get on with our lives,” is a disruptive hum as we go on with life as we’ve come to know it. This is a process fraught with uncertainty. Our minds like definitive answers, and there are none now. It is challenging to stay in the moment, living for the now. And we’ve come to understand that the only thing we are certain of is the uncertainty.

Unconsciously, to combat the uncertainty I’ve been hard on myself. It’s an old habit that comes out when things get tough. We all have old behaviors that sneak up on us when we’re stressed. Some of those behaviors have taken hold as we march on in quarantine. My challenge is to name it, and to then bring compassion, patience, and loving understanding to myself, even as my thoughts veer to benign cruelty. I don’t like that I’m mean. So, I’m working to do better. It is an on again off again process.

Though I’m not 100% grateful for this, one of the gifts of this prolonged social distancing is that we can work on self-care in a way we might have missed out on before. My moods and negativity are now front and center. Making incremental changes that will help me to live life with more consideration, more care is a priority at this time. And, as the announcements come in prolonging social distancing, I am given more time to employ compassion moment by moment, day by day.

A few simple exercises in which I’ve engaged to prompt benevolence to an impatient mind.

Stretching – It allows me to feel my body but it’s gentle. Sometimes I add sound, like a Sigh, a groan, or an Ahhh to it, for a more substantial release

Taking a Moment – I walk away from whatever I’m doing. This helps to see something from another vantage point. It allows me to look at something different, and in this new view, my mind shifts.

Breath – I know, I know, it’s so pedestrian. And, yet, focusing on our breath, whether we choose focused breathing or some other form or discipline, gives us a pause, and creates a bridge to a calmer moment.

Drink a glass of water – Getting the water and drinking it gives us a chance to recalibrate. Not only do we hydrate, but we take ourselves out of the negative moment into something more neutral.

Turn on a Song and Dance – Moving changes everything. I might cry or smile so big. It’s a mood changer like no other.

View at Medium.com

I Went All the Way

Posted on August 18, 2019 by janetgzinn

Sometimes something so simple can be hard. I had the idea of riding my bike on the last Summer Streets on Park Avenue down to the Brooklyn Bridge. I keep my bike in my office. It’s a short folding bike, allowing for both my feet to touch the ground when I stop. It’s in my office so I can get out when the impulse strikes. It rarely strikes. I call myself a wimpy rider since I want to easily touch the ground, and I am not skilled enough to weave in and out of traffic. I will only face the streets to get into Central Park or ride on the East River promenade to Randall’s Island where there are few if any cars. Sometimes I lack the gumption. I have to fill the tires with air days before a ride since I’m not even sure what to do should I find myself with a flat.

I was out of town the first Summer Street week, and last week I thought I might, but my timing was off. The trick is to go early before the crowds. It’s not so bad riding on Park Avenue, which is wide and has separate sides going in either direction. But once we head around Grand Central Terminal and pass Union Square, we squeeze together on Lafayette Street, unable to pass slow cyclists, and the inevitable joggers in the wrong lane. (It is also true that certain cyclists ride on the jogging side.)

There was one cyclist on a Citibike chatting with her friend. I was on her left, when she veered to her left almost hitting me, and I yelled “On Your Left!” She was startled. I couldn’t believe that I reacted with such verve. Sometimes I think I’m fine only to have an innocuous moment force me to see how stressed I am. That was such a moment. It was contrasted by a lovely biker passing me on my way uptown simply stating in a warm, soothing voice, “ On your left.” I could move incrementally to my right to let her pass. It was an easy moment that juxtaposed my rash reaction.

I was excited and scared to take my bike on the ride. I liked the idea of being able to move easily through the streets of Manhattan. I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. I love this city, and taking part in something like this elicits an inner thrill. But I am not great in terms of being part of a crowd. I’m a defensive rider, with a bit of anxiety thrown in to make it interesting, well, more like marginally stressful. I’m better off on an empty path speeding up and slowing down based on my own estimations, not on the precarious bicycling of strangers.

I didn’t wake up early enough to leave at 7 AM when the streets were wide open. Instead I ventured to Park Avenue at 10:30 AM, with all those tourists and New Yorkers on a pre-bunch ride. Nonetheless, I was set to go down to the Brooklyn Bridge and back again to Yorkville. I’m proud I made the ride, but I went for a slow jog today. I had enough of my bike for the weekend. If I can, perhaps I’ll make it to Central Park during a break this week. After all, my tires are filled with air.

All images were stock from the internet

My Super Power

Posted on June 3, 2019 by janetgzinn

When I was in the fifth grade I had a recurrent dream that I could fly. I was elated that I could soar past the bullies and the teasers. I loved that they had to look up to me in my dream. I soared in the air down Haral Place past the mailbox on my way to Stafford School. I held onto that dream. It gave me a sense of being special when I felt anything but special.

But the teasing got worse in junior high. Patty Craven howled at me as if I were a dog. She bribed a classmate to ask me out so they could laugh at me. She was cruel, but I took it. I found small ways to be unkind to others, somehow justified in my low social ranking. I wasn’t proud of my behavior. I got myself, and an accomplice, in trouble by confessing to a teacher. I couldn’t live with my guilt.

It was then that I longed to be invisible so I could hear what the popular girls said about me, but they wouldn’t know I was there. I could disappear so that I wouldn’t be inclined to emulate the bullies. I just wanted to blend in, so that my frizzy hair and my bad complexion wouldn’t make a statement. Or I didn’t want to be seen at all. But, that was not to be. Once in a while I would still dream of flying, but during the day I was an obvious target.

Being invisible seemed like the coolest super power. Casper was a friendly ghost and he was invisible. It was a nice power. Samantha and her relatives could become invisible on Bewitched. And, Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie could vanish after some mishap. Boy, would I have loved that in school and at home before my mother punished me.

Nonetheless, like all the mortals I’ve known, I could not make myself invisible, until now. Forty-six year later, at the precipice of my 60^thbirthday my wish has come true. I walk down the street and must quickly side step the person coming towards me. I look at the businessman leering at the woman in front of me while unaware of my presence. Tada, meet invisible me.

On the sidewalk I’ve had gadget-frenzied individuals run into me, shocked when they hit a person who was unseen moments prior. I can hear inappropriate conversations in ride shares because the other passengers aren’t aware that this particular unobserved person can hear their banter. I am reading my emails on the bus when two loud friends sit next to me and continue in their outside voices, as if I am not there.

These are the minor inconveniences. More than anything, being invisible has its advantages. I am no longer concerned on the days I go around with unkempt hair. My shoes are comfortable because I’m okay with someone seeing me with my walk-friendly athletic wear, understanding that most people won’t be looking at all. There’s a delightful freedom in that. Not only can I face the world with abandon, I observe the quirks of others in private. So I embrace my invisibility. Though it serves a different purpose from the wish of my 13-year-old self, I am relishing the magic of post-mid-life invisibility in the present.

I Was a Suburban Dropout

Posted on October 2, 2017 by janetgzinn

As soon as I could I moved to a city filled with misfits. I needed a sense of belonging, and New York provided me with friends and neighbors misunderstood in their former lives. Growing up in Cherry Hill, New Jersey attending a large high school and an affluent Hebrew School felt wrong to me. I yearned to fit in, but felt so different. I imbued my classmates with confidences and affluences they probably didn’t possess at such a young age. I had learned to harbor secrets, while watching acquaintances seemingly share their lives openly. I had to get out.

Yet, returning to attend my 40^th High School reunion, it came to my attention that I had missed so much. I saw old friends, and remembered the special moments we shared. I remember viewing my first Christmas tree all decorated, feeling a sense of awe at the beauty of the season. I remember playing outside in a friend’s backyard, being called in for a home cooked lunch. I remember running around until dinner-time, when we all regrettably had to leave the fun. There were fireflies to catch, and bubbles to chase.

And, later, there were whispered calls to friends late at night bemoaning our parents’ cluelessness. There was clothes swapping, and sleepovers when we would double or triple date before meeting up to stay over our friend’s place. A group of us cut school to attend the Flyers’ Stanley Cup parade in 1975, feeling cool in Philadelphia. There was laughing in study hall, and gloating over a reading in Shakespeare, and the bewilderment of a simple biology class. There was babysitting, and the decision of which mall to shop with our earnings, Echelon, Cherry Hill or Moorestown.

I left Cherry Hill because I hadn’t grown up. I remembered all the perceived rejection. The awkwardness of trying to be intelligible at a social. The ignorance of how to apply to college in a town where education was highly valued. The clothes that were off-brand. I was not your average Cherry Hill girl. Oh, and how I longed to be average then. And, yet, in attending the reunion, it was clear to me how unique we all were. I was ashamed of my struggles. It was that shame that kept me feeling separate, not my colleagues. Returning was a gift. The kindnesses of old friends was palpable. The warmth in the room was tangible. And, the good feelings were ever present. We had all matured. I was accepted for who I was and who I am now. Conversely, I joyfully appreciated all who I saw.

The reunion was a helpful reminder of our connections and our individuality. Both are valuable. Time teaches that.

One Step in Front of the Other

Posted on September 5, 2017 by janetgzinn

When I was 10 years old I was allowed to walk on Haddonfield-Berlin Road, crossing highways entrances and exits to go to The Woodcrest Shopping Center. For a short time they had The Jerry Lewis Movie Theater, and I could get in for 50 cents, the amount of my allowances after chores. Or, I would go to W.T. Grant’s, deemed a twenty-five cent department store, but more of a five and dime. that sold colorful birds, toys, clothes, plastic jewelry, and featured a lunch counter. I was much too shy to go to the counter alone. But I loved getting lost in the aisles ending up with some sort of sweet. There was also Crest Lanes where I could bowl. I loved the crack of the pins being hit, and the overhead light of the score pad. In the other direction I would walk to The Haddontown Swim Club. It was lovely after a hot August walk to reach the pool and jump in to the cold splash of wet relief. These were some of my first destination walks.

I would get upset that my mom didn’t drive me places, but with four children and a house to run, driving me to and from a destination that was just over a mile away, was not to be. What upset me then, actually provided me with a pleasure I’ve enjoyed throughout my life. I’ve lived in Manhattan for over 35 years, and a destination walk remains one of my favorite activities.

Some of my best visits with friends have been walking to work with them, or going to a movie theater in another neighborhood. Films may not be fifty cents anymore, but the destination is still as satisfying. I love going to various farmer’s markets, or to a specialty stationary store. I walk to museums, or parks. Last week I took the subway just to walk in parks in other parts of the city. The destination is more often than not, motivation, but the walk is the true treat.

3 Brooklyn Museum Front.jpg

Although I love city walks, and will make sure I go on foot when I visit other cities, walking in the woods, or taking a hike is equally as pleasurable. In these hectic times, walking has been wonderful for stress, it’s been reliable transportation, it’s been an education, and it’s been a gift.

Getting it Right

Posted on February 1, 2015 by janetgzinn

There is a myth that if we just did things better or differently we could avoid some unpleasantness. That certainly has been my credo for a long time. My self-criticism has known no bounds. I was sure that my unhappiness was a matter of me lacking something essential. And, once I was able to gain that something special, I would know eternal happiness. In my mind this included having more money, a fit body, harmonious relationships, and constant inner peace.

I thought I just needed to be more positive. Or, I should be more disciplined, or less critical. Maybe that’s true, but going on a mind loop of what I need to change hasn’t actually helped me. So, rather than perpetuate this thinking, I’m trying accepting my negativity. And, when I say accepting, I am not saying I am proud of it, nor do I really want to flaunt it. But I can say that it’s part of how I think and if it’s part of me, it’s worth accepting.

I work so hard to be a better person. I’m tired of working so hard, especially when that work brings me back to my starting point. And, now that I’ve returned to my imperfect self, I think I’ll stay here for awhile and see how it feels. Perfection is a great concept, but it’s not really part of my everyday reality. I’m taking a break. Secretly, I’m hoping embracing imperfection is the answer to getting it right. I guess that’s part of the endless loop. And, so it goes….

janetzinn

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Tag Archives: thoughts

Stressing About Stress, Week 22 in the Time of Coronavirus

When Will This End? Coronavirus Blog 5

I Went All the Way

All images were stock from the internet

My Super Power

I Was a Suburban Dropout

One Step in Front of the Other

Getting it Right

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