Hashtag nofilter

“I know that sounds like a cat poster, but it’s true.” –Vitruvius

Since Tuna died, the question “How are you?” has been hard to answer. I’ve considered answering with, “Never been worse. Living my worst nightmare, you?”
If you’re not sure how to answer the question “How are you doing?” when people check in with you during isolation, it’s totally normal for those going through grief and trauma.

My suggestion (since you asked) is to be honest. Don’t say you’re doing great when actually you can’t stand the sound of your cat eating for one second longer. Don’t say you’re fine when really you’re ready to douse the house in bleach because it smells like PEOPLE, your couch is developing permanent butt-indents, and you can only go so far on a stationary bike. If someone checks in and you say all is well, but really you’re having conversations with your dog while watching the Golden Girls (true story), try a more honest answer. Just say it: “My anxiety is through the roof and I need some help with coping right now.”

For me, after Tuna, I started saying “We’re getting by,” or “I’m doing ok,” or “Doing my best.” Those are the family friendly versions of, “I’m living in hell and can barely cope right now.” People don’t want to hear that. Most people don’t know where to put that, it gets awkward, so you water it down.

During these times right here, when we’re contemplating the pros and cons of wearing a fishbowl on our heads to go toilet paper hunting, we might answer the question, “How are you doing?” with the answer, “I’m doing as well as can be expected.” Or, “I think I’m ok, but are you experiencing depression and worry, too?”

Guess what? It’s ok that you’re experiencing that.

If you’re new to grief and trauma (because that’s what the world has been plunged into – – the cold world of drastic, traumatic change), everything you’re feeling is normal. If you’re crying, that’s OK. If you’re acting really weird and loopy, that’s OK. If you’re escaping, that’s OK. If you’re trying to laugh at it all, it’s cool. If you’re over-achieving, that’s fine too. Just be sure to come up for air. Be sure to answer the questions with brutal honesty. Don’t insta-filter your pandemic state. Hashtag no filter that answer: “I’m freaking out, and I need to see your face”, “I want to know what to do when I feel depressed and lonely”… You get the idea.

So this is where I say, “Hang in there!”, which is a watered down version of, “Yeah, this is a really freaking twilight zone state the world is in and I have nothing helpful to say. At all. Hang in there.”

Please talk to your people. Face time. Message. Call. And if you don’t have people, call a church, or look at the Google thingy for a counseling hotline–some are free–just to talk to someone who will listen.

If you’re feeling like hurting yourself, call 1-800-273-8255. Go here if you need to https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.

Sorry, the world is closed. The whole world is just hanging in there until further notice. People tell me that it gets better, this grief crap. People are nice. I guess I’m not people… I’m telling you that it doesn’t get better, just different. It never goes away–we’ll all be changed by this crisis–but when further notice comes, we’ll get to let go.

Eyes Front, Don’t Trip

My kick-ass friend Anna sends me love notes that say “drink water”, and “take walks by yourself”. You know, self-care reminders. So today I took a walk. We have woods in our backyard, and I decided to take the trails instead of the road.

I came across a softball someone must have dropped. I thought “Oh cool, a new ball for Molly” (my dog). I kicked it a few steps, went to pick it up, and stopped. What if it had traces of Covid-19 on it? Anyway, maybe they’ll come back for it…yeah, I’ll leave it.

The trail led to the baseball fields at a nearby school, and there was a dad there hitting balls with his kids. The first ball I watched him hit came to the fence, and I thought I should probably walk faster since I’m not baseball and knowing me I’d get a concussion trying to catch it if it went over. I kept walking, and his next hit landed over the fence and in the grass next to me. I picked up the ball and threw it back over the fence for him, without a single thought of the virus. I just thought it would be a nice thing to do.

Why did I worry about the virus with the softball, but not when I was helping someone? It explains our hero healthcare workers’ mentality, risking their health each day for the greater good. And we can extend that to the rest of the workers still out there providing “necessary services” for the rest of us.

I kept walking. Then it hit me that I should probably clean that hand first thing when I got home. How sad that I have to think this way. What a freaking twilight zone we’re in. I picked up a dry leaf and crumpled it up in my hand, willing nature and dirt to absorb the virus that was 99.9% NOT on the baseball. Ridiculous. But what did I do when I got home? I washed my stupid hands.

I had a pretty good pace going on my walk. It felt good to get out and move, and I was just looking straight ahead as I walked. At one point I stopped and stood silent, taking in what I missed in movement. Deciding against sitting a while, I kept going. At one point, I looked around into the woods while keeping my pace, and I tripped on a root. I didn’t fall, but I did put my eyes back on the trail and kept them there.

Walking clears my head. I had been thinking about our situation at home–how we would have to really plan and manage well to get through the next couple of months, the uncertainty in everything right now, financial strain, changes springing up daily–when my eyes strayed into the forest, my head turned, and that’s when I tripped. That root sprung right up, like the daily changes, when I wasn’t paying attention to the path in front of me. Had I been present, it wouldn’t have tripped me.

We’re being pummeled with opinions and statistics and facts and warnings and directives and suggestions and articles and press conferences and terrifying news all day every day. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep these days at home as stress-free as I can for my family. I’m trying to take in the pandemic forest around me while smoothly navigating my own family’s path forward. There is NO WAY I can do both at the same time. If I don’t keep my eyes front while we go through this, and only stop briefly to assess what’s going on in the rest of the woods, I’ll fall flat on my face.

My job–YOUR JOB–is to do just that for yourself and/or your family. Sure, listen to your most trusted news source. Yes, get the updates. And then face forward again. We won’t get through this if we’re all splayed on the forest floor, ankles sprained, waiting for help that isn’t coming. Step over the unexpected roots, and walk yourselves smoothly home. Then (unless you’re among the necessary) stay home, because the right thing to do is help others…and wash your hands.

Coming Down to the Ground

“When this is over, what changes are you going to make in your life?”
Yeah, I already wrote about this, but I wasn’t done.

The question assumes that this pandemic will end:

“When this is over…”

Will it ever be over? To be honest, I hope not. Not the virus, of course, but the reeling world. The asking of questions like this one. The conservation of products, the sudden interest in our neighbors’ well-being. I know others are talking about this, too. I’ve read the articles with similar thoughts on about how this is going to bring the world to the next level. I really pray that that’s the case.

Tonight, Squishy and I talked about landfills because he asked me what happens to something we throw away. He asked me about what happens when a landfill is full. What happens when there isn’t any more land to fill? This led to talking about the movie Wall-E, and the trash-covered Earth. Perhaps we’re all moving too fast. Perhaps we’re all consuming too much. Perhaps we’re all forgetting the imperative instinct to connect with other people.

My generation knows how to live without plugging in. I went to festivals and concerts and drum circles and road trips and…college (eesh)…all without a cell phone. You can call me old, or you can ask me how to do it. Shit, I need to ask me how to do it. My grandparents lived through the Great Depression. They instinctively reused and mended and made-do. They were young, but so are our kids. This is going to shape them in ways we can’t foresee.

Maybe this pandemic is here to shake us loose from our teetering lifestyles, like the last healthy seeds from a dying tree. It’s now our job to plant and nurture the true grit of human nature. Our children will remember the time when they couldn’t leave the house, and there weren’t any leftovers after meals. Some will skip meals. Their ears will hold our voices talking of the sick people, the need for masks and equipment, the heroes who had to leave their homes. They’ll remember decorating their front windows with homemade chin-up pictures and signs, and retain muscle memory of every dip in the backyard dirt. This generation will appreciate their food, and the importance of caring for elders. I pray that the art they create now in quarantine will preserve the sacredness of all of the arts for their children’s children.

Maybe we won’t all become homesteaders who grow our own food and can it for the winter, but this might just bring all of us back down to the Earth in one way or another. Like Peter Gabriel in the closing credits of Wall-E when he sings “We’re going down to the ground, there’s no better place to go…” “We’re gonna find new priorities. These are extraordinary qualities.”

My optimism is short–I don’t think we’ll all emerge from isolation as a reformed society. But, that doesn’t have to be “when this is over”. Maybe there will be enough of us whose habits change, and our kids will remember all of it. They hear us and see us, and I bet their resilience will carry their generation through whatever is next for the Earth. Then, maybe the lasting effects of this global pandemic will never be over.

Peter Gabriel, Down to Earth

Did you think you’d escaped from routine
By changing the script and the scene?
Despite all you made of it, you’re always afraid
Of the change

All those rules don’t apply
When you’re high in the sky
So, come on down
Come on down

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

You’ve got a lot on your chest
Well, you can come as my guest
So, come on down
Come on down

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

Like the fish in the ocean
We felt at home in the sea
We learned to live off the good land
Learned to climb up a tree

Then we got up on two legs
But we wanted to fly
Oh, when we messed up our homeland
We set sail for the sky

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

We’re coming down
Coming down to Earth
Like babies at birth
Coming down to Earth

We’re gonna find new priorities
These are extraordinary qualities

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

We’re gonna find new priorities
These are extraordinary qualities
To find on Earth

(Coming down)
(Coming down)
(Coming down)
(Coming down)
(Coming down)
(Coming down)