I'M OKAY, BUT HOW ABOUT YOU?

I’m rarely Miss Sunshine, but let me give it a try. Online and when I’m out and about, armed with a mask for possible close encounters, I come across a common sentiment that everyone wants the year 2020 to be over. It’s dragged on, people say. A month feels like a year. Every tragedy is evidence that this year is cursed. I don’t fault people for this line of thinking. It makes for easy connections on social media. Misery loves company, as they say. If you raise a middle finger to 2020 in a tweet, you’re bound to get a lot of likes. That’s what it’s all about, right?

Personally, I’ve had worse years. I only have to go back to...let’s see...last year. I spent one-fourth of 2019 in a hospital and a group home in attempt to overcome my eating disorder. Didn’t work at all. I was hospitalized for being suicidal in both 2017 and 2014. Also not good years. (Same for the years in between.) Prior to that, I spent seven years in an abusive relationship. I could go on...

Truth is, I’m fine with 2020. As I’ve noted in prior posts, it dashed an extended European trip, first with a month taking Swedish language immersion classes in Stockholm and then on to Estonia, Helsinki, Prague, the Algarve in Portugal and a full exploration around Iceland’s Ring Road. The only way I could ever afford such an extensive trip was through perfect timing, selling my condo and putting my things in storage, thus going without rent or mortgage payments while abroad. It was all part of a grander scheme to press the reset button on my life, following Europe with a move to Toronto. The entire plan imploded, thanks to the coronavirus.

Fine. Nothing personal. The gods weren’t targeting me. Life happens. And so, we’ve learned, do pandemics.

I’ve come to realize that, with all my diagnosed quirks, I may be one of the people best equipped to weather coronavirus measures. Being an introvert, I take the steady stream of canceled events and social restrictions in stride. I have close friendships that go back four decades, but these people don’t live anywhere near me. We rarely text, Facetime or send emails and yet I know that, whenever we see each other after years apart, it’s just like old times. I’m nourished and so are they. It’s enough. This imposed time away from one another is tolerable.

Having an eating disorder, eating out can be highly problematic. If someone comments about the portion size of my order, the experience is ruined. Never mind that I’ve adjusted my meals and exercise leading up to going out for dinner. I feel under scrutiny. I want to crumble. The restaurant is unsafe. I just want to get the server to box up my food or chuck it. Get me out of there. Forgoing eating out hasn’t been much of a sacrifice; it may even be a blessing.

My social anxiety is more in check these days too. No events, no panic. No backing out at the last minute after a restless night, worrying about all the ways I’ll botch a conversation. No planning preemptive maneuvers to avoid people who make me feel ill-at-ease. It’s amazing how social anxiety fades away when social time isn’t an option.

Of course, there are new opportunities for social angst. Why isn’t that person wearing a mask? Did she just cough or is that how she clears her throat? Why is the person behind me in line creeping up on me instead of standing on the designated circle on the ground? If I turn around and glare, will I become part of a video that goes viral? (My god, if someone can randomly punch out Rick Moranis, aren’t we all vulnerable?!)

For the most part, these awkward moments in public aren’t uniquely mine. My worries are common instead of part of a special diagnosis. With all my mental health issues, it’s reassuring to feel that, at this time, the things that make me anxious are...normal. Whew!

Bike rides have gotten tougher because the lanes and paths are more crowded. I fret as I try to decide on the least popular routes. Sometimes I can’t calm myself and I opt for a different form of exercise. It’s okay, I tell myself. If and when things return to some shade of normal, people will let their bikes go back to collecting dust in the garage and return to yoga classes. I’ll feel freer on my bike again.

Perhaps most astonishing is the fact that I haven’t even had any agonizing episodes of depression. There have been blips, moments when I know my mood can quickly crash. In the past, the freefall was almost inevitable and the only question was, How long this time? For now, blips are blips. Nothing more. Misery does indeed love company. In the midst of all this talk about social distancing, locking down and isolating, I feel so much less alone.

It’s a relief to shove aside the nagging question, What’s wrong with me? I don’t have to berate myself when I can’t Snap out of it. Like the generations who had to weather the Great Depression or live through a world war, this is our collective challenge.

So I’m okay, but are you okay?

I know that many people who generally fare better in non-pandemic times are struggling now. There’s unemployment and underemployment. Some jobs have become more stressful due to heavier workloads or new ways of operating. Extroverts may be feeling isolated, connections online failing to fill the void from loss of in-person interactions. Families have struggled with prolonged separation. Older people and persons with compromised immune systems feel more vulnerable each time they step beyond home. Mental health issues like depression and anxiety and feelings of doom and helplessness can be debilitating.

If I can share anything constructive based on my own struggles, it’s that it is best to share one’s thoughts and feelings. Even though this is a global problem, it affects each person differently. Gone are the days of “sucking it up” and “going it alone.” It helps to talk things out. It eases some of the pressure that builds inside when negativity swirls and stagnates.

Know that people won’t always be good listeners. Many people get uncomfortable hearing about another person’s discomfort. They jump in too soon with advice that’s often simplistic and off the mark. Sometimes it’s best to just nod and move on to trying to talk with another person, but I’ve found that all people do better with a little coaching. Tell them what you need.

Stop. I just want you to listen. (You may have to say this many times. People always want to jump in. In addition to thinking they have quick-fix, cure-all advice, they are bursting with anecdotes to share. Listening is a skill that requires practice.)

I’m not looking for advice. I don’t expect you to solve things.

It just helps if I feel heard. I need to get this off my chest.

There are professional options as well. Before my first hospitalization, I called a grief hotline and I phoned the number for my employer’s employee assistance program. One call helped, one didn’t. You can expect some hits and some many misses. One “well that was useless” experience shouldn’t be the end of reaching out. (I know, I know...it’s hard to persevere when you feel at your weakest. Take a break. Regroup. It’s worth it once you finally find some relief, however small.) If you contact your family doctor or go to the hospital, write out anything you can to describe how you are struggling. Refer to your notes. Don’t skip half of your points. It’s too easy to feel dismissed or to suddenly minimize your own challenges when a professional phone call or environment makes us feel like we’re taking up valuable time. (That old “suck it up” notion creeps back in.)

Mental health has a long way to go in terms of funding and understanding. One positive to come from the coronavirus is that the spike in mental health problems in the “regular” population has meant that professionals are having to brush up on their knowledge of mental health symptoms, diagnoses, resources and approaches. Make them listen, too.

Know that you are not taking away from professionals’ time in dealing with the coronavirus. Obviously, there are physical health matters that must be addressed, but the mental health matters should be just as obvious. If that doesn’t seem apparent as you reach out, let me reiterate: make it apparent or reach out to someone capable of listening.

Take care of yourself.