Just before the pandemic began (as a worldwide phenomena — the virus was already active), I attended Leadership Lincoln’s day on Health. As one of the activities, we visited the idea of a Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP) — a mental health treatment tool. I wrote about it in depth on Facebook (post is friendslocked, sorry), but to sum up, basically the WRAP asked these questions:
- What do I look like when I’m well?
- What are some early warning signs I’m feeling poorly?
- What are things I can do to counteract that?
- What are the things that represent I’ve returned to health?
At the time, I really latched onto this, because it was an official, formalized version of the way I’d learned to manage my depression. Once I started noticing that my self-talk was focused on how I was a Garbage Human and a Disappointment to All, I’d start doing things to consciously counterprogram that, by working from the following list:
- Connect with my body
Go for a walk, do some yoga. Drink water, eat vegetables. Consciously engage in an active relationship of respecting my body, instead of treating it as an inconvenient meatsack. It is part of me as much a my mind is. - Connect with my mind
Journal, or meditate. Do a puzzle, or learn something new. Work on a hobby. Connect with the parts of me I like and value, to drown out the depression, sadness, anxiety, and angst. Remind myself that those messages aren’t reality, they’re just brain chemistry. - Connect with my home
Mess is a big part of mental health for me. A lack of tidiness is both a symptom of my mental illness, and a bludgeon that has been used to beat my sense of worth since I was a child. Doing something to counteract that programming is a vital step in maintaining health. When I feel worthless, empty/refill the dishwasher. Pick up all my socks and shoes. Take 5 minutes to “reset” the main living areas of the house. - Connect with nature
Go outside. Go for a walk (see point 1). Stargaze. Sit in the sun. These things all help. - Connect with other humans (pre-pandemic, this had the addition “Not on the internet!”)
Pre-pandemic, this looked like: People-watch. Go to a brewery or bar and chat with whatever acquaintance I run into. (I miss those friends very much!) Call a friend or family member. The world keeps spinning, and there are people out there who care about you!
What does that look like in a pandemic? Message your friends. Call someone still works! Engage in a real, intentional, face-to-face, making-lots-of-eye-contact conversation with your partner. But also… I’m not sure! This is hard right now.
Pre-pandemic, I use this rubric as tools to build a ladder back to health. Each step is important, and celebrating success and giving oneself compassion is vital:
Sitting in the morning sun for your first cup of coffee? Yup! Good job! You took care of yourself! You asserted that you are a person who is worthy of having nice peaceful moments.
Did you just put your clothes in the hamper at the end of the day? Well done! You are valuing your space, and as such, valuing yourself!
Is there a day where you don’t manage to do any of the above productive things, but still got up, went to work, and fulfilled your most basic obligations? GREAT WORK! You’re keeping life ticking over even when you don’t want to. That takes strength.
Did you end up taking a sick day and just spent all day curled in bed in a state of existential dread? Wow, you must have really needed to rest. Tomorrow is a new day; maybe tomorrow we can get out of bed.
(Realistically, I have a rule that I can’t take more than one day off in a row due to depression. I need to at least get up and go to work the second day. If I end up getting in late, or tapping out midday, at least I tried. But while I do want to grant myself grace for struggling with mental health, I also need to push myself towards health, and not succumb to wallowing. )
And with all those tools, I managed really well! I was very proud of how I was managing my mental health.
But then the pandemic happened….
In August, this all ceased to feel relevant (which I again posted about on FB, with the real revelations in the comments). There was no way these tools were going to build a ladder back to “normal”. “Normal” was out of reach for reasons entirely beyond my control. And that caused me to re-evaluate my system. I ceased to view my emotional and mental state from a “health” perspective, and instead chose to view it as “survival”.
I told myself “It’s like being broke, or hungry. It’s not about health, or success. It’s about squeezing out whatever resources you can to get yourself to the next step.” Only, in this case, the “resource” is joy.
For the time being, my goal was not to build a ladder back to health — it was just to keep my head above water, whatever that looked like.
I threw myself into planning moments of joy. A private backyard Oktoberfest for two. A Halloween bonfire. A full-on Thanksgiving. A whole month of binging Christmas cheer.
… But I got through the holidays, and now here I am, in early January, with:
- Two months of winter staring me down
- The sun still setting before 5:30 (though at least it’s after 5 PM , now)
- No paid holidays until May
- Unknown weeks and months until I am eligible for the vaccine.
- Nothing left on my “Things to look forward to” list.
I crashed, hard, yesterday. How can I get through the next few months in the grinder of darkness and capitalism?
I was lucky, I had supportive folks, and space where I could bring all my mess, and be listened to, even as I typed thousands of words about my despair.
And in doing so, I catharized a lot of it.
Then I took a step back.
I took a deep breath.
And I went back to my list at the beginning of the post.
I walked the dog (body). While walking the dog, I saw a fox hunting his dinner (nature)! I wrote in my journal (mind), and emptied the dishwasher (home). I made myself a cup of Tension Tamer tea in my favorite (mind/body) and wrote in my journal (mind). I played a few hands of cribbage with Erik (other humans). I worked on an embroidery project (mind).
When everything is wrong, and you can’t find your way, unpick it all and start over. A good lesson.
The pandemic rages on. I have set the hope in myself that maybe by my birthday in August I’ll be vaccinated. That feels like a safe kind of hope. A low expectation. It will be the better part of a year before I begin to pick up the threads of a normal life, again.
It will be a long time until I can build my ladder back to health. But maybe, in the meantime, I can use my tools to survive where I am, and not lose any more ground.
Notebook 