I stand by every word of last week’s post. I AM mellowing as I age, I vow and declare, I AM. But as fate so often has it, I made that statement in public, and sure enough this week I am feeling anything but mellow. I feel once again as I did when I started law school: Working full time in a new-to-me field, going to class five nights a week, blasting away on my studies over the weekend when I wasn’t putting in overtime at the office.
And then I got pregnant. And then the truck blew a head gasket. Et cetera and so forth.
To say I was overwhelmed is to make the grandmama of all understatements, and I’m feeling a little bit of that same out-of-breath, can’t think, too seized-up to scream overwhelm lately. The news is part of it, but so are publishing deadlines, technical challenges (formatting in Italian!?), physical limitations, and tax season exercises.
That blitzing the populace with chaos is apparently the current political agenda doesn’t help one bit. It does help to know that’s a well studied, established tactic, and I don’t have to fall for it. I can instead rely on the strategies I learned much earlier in life for dealing with what I call “compression phases.”
First priority: Get enough rest. Not just enough sleep, though that’s vital, but also enough downtime. Enough solitude, silence, and solitaire. Enough good books. Enough nature. However I recharge, I need to make sure that doesn’t go by the wayside especially now.
Second priority: Delegate, reschedule, prioritize. Do not abdicate control. With respect to the news, that means I focus on a few trusted commentators to analyze the blizzard and report the facts. NEVER let the news into the beginning or the end of my day. Sniff through it in the middle of the day, after I’ve tended to what’s important, before my mental energy ebbs for the night. For the doc appointments, that means see ya in late March and not before.
Third priority: Positive connections only. Now is the time to have lunch with Graham, with barn buddies, and not with that old friend who just has to pontificate on the topic of my lousy financial planning skills. She’s right–I know she’s right–but I’m doing the best I can, and she is not contributing to the success of the mission now. See ya… sometime, but I’m not putting her on the calendar now for love nor money.
There are other steps I take when I’m in my emotional bunker. I lower my standards, to be honest, and look for progress rather than accomplishments. So I didn’t get Lord Julian Nine done and dusted by Ground Hog Day. Welp, did I write 500 words today? Did I pay the bills on time? Am I pulling my share of the load at the barn? All good, all sufficient unto a long and wearying day.
How do you cope with compression phases? Was there an experience or a period in life when you had to acquire those coping skills?
I relate to so much of this, except I’m still sort of working on the remaining-level-in-storms thing. Hopefully, I’m getting better at it with time. More likely, it probably fluctuates.
But anyways—I’m also in one of these phases, and in times like this, I also close the door on things that are not absolutely necessary until I have the energy or the spoons. And I, too, am using a “progress” oriented measuring stick for my creative pursuits at the moment. It’s harder to get anything creative done when I’m stressed and overwhelmed, and shame from missed goals doesn’t help things. But progress is still an accomplishment, isn’t it? It must be.
I need to take up your timetable practice—not letting headlines into my morning or evening just before bed. I say that I limit my doom scrolling, but I don’t as much as I should, and the anxiety makes it so hard to fall asleep or find rest in scheduled downtime. I need to stick to the few accounts that I trust to give a thorough and accurate analysis of events.
Sorry if this comment is cringe. I just appreciate you so much, and I find your thoughts comforting.
Yeah, I know the feeling!
When I am overwhelmed, I walk, read and grab a nap.
Patting the dog helps too.
This is a difficult time of the year. It’s dark when I make coffee and set out the dogs food and it’s dark at 430 in the afternoon. And it snows and it’s icy.
I try to think of my accomplishments and try to take things one step at a time.
I’m dealing with a looooooong bout of Long Covid right now with Post Exertional Malaise. Meaning that every damn day I have to triage what’s important because I’m not gonna end up with energy to do more than about a tenth of it. So frustrating. Reframing is a big part of dealing with it, but I gotta be honest, I’m not coping with it well.
Do you ever have a character turn to you and state, “I’m sick to death of you, this story, the pap you put in my mouth. I’m killing off hero/heroine/major character, myself. You will never find the body.”?
My harder life experiences have been suddenly having nothing to do. I went to Germany at 16 after an overbooked schedule of school, church, piano, work. There were no expectations of me at school, even. I hit a year of unexpected unemployment when I married and moved. Then there was so called “bed rest” with pregnancy and a two-year old. Now there’s retirement. There was also a volcano called Mt. St. Helens my senior year in college. I was going to school downwind.
I am doing better. These periods pass, not well, maybe, but they do pass into something different. In the meantime, there’s an entire backlog of Grace Burrowes to re-read. Thank you and blessed be.
As I have said before in other situations, I tend to prefer avoidance and denial. I do grumble a bit that “this, too, shall pass” and I know it will but that’s not always a useful comfort. I have no special coping skills but I do notice that I’m reading fewer angsty books these days since I want the relief from the real world. In fact, I’m tending toward romantic comedy more than ever.
Having said that, however, I just started reading the second box set in a series by a mystery writer and the first book (written in 1993) starts out describing in detail the last minutes of a flight that crashed on takeoff at a Washington DC airport. It’s horrifying but I am able to continue since it’s been a week since the recent crash and I guess I have enough distance. But I’m not savoring, just powering through to get to the meat of the mystery. And reminding myself that it’s fiction. Maybe I’ll go back to my favorite saying from the 1960s: Reality is a crutch and pretend this whole thing is a dream. OK, enough useless rambling. Time for dinner!
Good luck to you, Grace, and to the other readers who are currently experiencing trauma in their lives. If we’re lucky, we’ll all get through to the other side.
Ha, I don’t cope well with compression phases. I do attempt to cull(sp?) the “to do list” and generally don’t blow deadlines too often, but I get pretty depressed which interferes mightily. I try to stick to people who are good for me and in fact had a wonderful 4.5 hour brunch visit with an old friend yesterday.
I want to thank you for explaining the chaos technique which I really didn’t know about. I deeply thank you. I learn a lot from you and so THANK YOU Grace
This is definitely a compression phase. Parent , spouse, and everybody else seems more needy.
The news is frightening. It isn’t spring.
But friends and laughing at the absurdity of it all are the best ways to cope for me. And, of course, reading.
I had the predictable baby/ new motherhood compression phase, I was working 3/4 time which provided our insurance and on site daycare while my husband took advantage of being laid off (when I was 8 mo pregnant with complications) to switch professional gears and do some training. Second baby had special needs etc. Right now in the midst of this chaos, I am sandwiched between parent and child caretaking. I am not a fan of compression phases.
I’m refusing to listen to all the garbage and check trusted sources once a day for news. I rest, rest, rest with yoga, nature walks, mah jong etc. This is a long haul situation, so conserving energy is important.
Take care Grace
Dear Grace, thank you for your wonderful stories! I read them again and again. They comfort me and feed a part of my soul that needs to keep believing in the goodness and generosity of the human spirit.
As for coping skills… mostly single Mom-ing two young boys… one who developed epilepsy and was eventually given a diagnosis of Aspergers Disorder (high functioning autism) taught me to live as much as possible within my sphere of influence. What could I do… could I actually make any material difference right now? If not… let it go, it was not my task. And to constantly remind myself to not “borrow trouble”. Was my son having a seizure now… if not… then all was well. And most of the time all was blessedly well…. it did take my worrying and fretting myself into sickness to figure that out! But I got it. I am not perfect and often slip into the “ain’t it awfuls”… but I know to pull myself out…. focus on what I can do and let that be enough. And at all cost…. avoid almost all media! I dip into newspaper headlines… not much else.
Absolutely, having your stories to escape into aids my well-being and I am eternally grateful!
Lovely advice, Grace. My husband the historian is HUGELY helpful with his long view, but even he is freaking out once in a while. My absolutely main comfort these days is … reading Grace Burrowes. THANK YOU, and may you rest and find joy anywhere you can.