Thoughts From Self-Isolation
Hey guys….
The world got weird.
And it got weird fast.
Two weeks ago, I was watching the finale of the Bachelor with my friend Jessica on my couch, also convincing her to watch Love Is Blind on Netflix next. I was working in person, face-to-face in meetings with my friend and coworkers. We were brainstorming content for the next season and planning for a huge conference coming in April. I was out celebrating my friend Megan’s birthday. I was taking Pure Barre classes five times a week at my local studio to get back into the habit of exercise after a long season of illness in January. I was planning for my birthday in early April, a haircut this week, a trip the Fox to see Hamilton again, a Taylor Swift concert in the park during March Madness, a visit home to Tennessee for Easter, a beach trip in May, and a week spent in New York in June.
And today? Well, most of that is completely off the calendar or totally unknown. I haven’t seen a person who isn’t my roommate since last Thursday. I haven’t left my apartment for anything other than the grocery store. There are no friends over, no coworkers in meetings, no birthday gatherings, no movies, no dance studio, no plays, no vacation, no normal. There’s just home. I work out at home, I eat at home, I teach dance at home, I write at home, and I will be at home for the foreseeable future.
And like I said, it’s weird. It’s all the weird in the world. I’m an extrovert who thrives on the company of my friends. I’m also a person who battles anxiety on a daily basis. I’m someone who has an autoimmune disease that severely limits my immune system’s ability to fight off sickness. I’m someone whose dad has an illness that impacts his lungs, making him the poster-child for worst case scenario right now. I’m a freelance writer whose livelihood is very much up in the air in the coming months. I’m deeply empathetic and can barely look at the news or the Internet without weeping right now. I’m single, in isolation, and my all-time greatest fear is ultimately being stuck out here alone in the world.
So yeah, to say I’m overwhelmed would be an understatement. I, like so many of you, am feeling the weight of the world right now. I’m feeling disappointed, afraid, worried, unsure, isolated, bored, mad. I’m feeling literally all the feelings. And the thing is, this could go on for a while. And let’s be real here: As a person with a high-risk immune system and an even higher risk dad, I hope the isolation part goes on. I need it to go on so my life (and my dad’s) can go on.
But this is a new normal—a way of life I don’t love. I spent the better part of yesterday crying about it. I woke up, cried. Had a meeting, cried. Exercised, cried. Made waffles, cried. Went to bed, cried.
You get the picture.
But if we’re going to get through this (and honestly, I believe that we are), we’ve got to figure out how to do it in a way that works. A way that keeps us healthy. A way that keeps us hopeful. A way that keeps us connected. A way that keeps us strong. And a way that keeps us going and growing (and only sometimes crying).
I am, of course, no expert on self-isolation survival. But I can tell you that in the last week, I’ve found a few things that make this horribly unbearable and overwhelmingly scary time feel not so insurmountable. Maybe they’ll work for you, maybe they won’t. But at least, for the sake of all our sanity, maybe give something a try.
1. Say what you’re afraid. Write it down, name it, say it out loud. I’m afraid I’ll catch this. I’m afraid my dad will catch it. I’m afraid he’ll get sick, and I won’t be allowed to be near him. I’m afraid I’ll lose work. I’m afraid I’ll be alone in this or alone for a long time because of this. I’m afraid people I love will get sick. I’m afraid of how long this will go on. Those are some of the things I wrote down just last night. I put all my fears out there in detail, not to scare myself more but to really recognize what’s happening in my brain and call it out. Putting it out there gives it less power in some way. Rather than trying to ignore it or not deal with it, name it. Look it in the face. Recognize it’s there. Pull the costume off the monster, and see it for what it is. It doesn’t mean it isn’t scary. It doesn’t mean that there isn’t something to fear. It just means that you can see it, you can know it, and that makes you more equipped to face it.
2. Find things to look forward to everyday. This one is tricky because sometimes, it’s just not enough. I’m going to be honest and tell you that this doesn’t work all the time. Most of the time, I don’t feel better when I do it. But I guess the point isn’t really to feel better, it’s just to stay in the practice of trying. My list this week? Waffles, the next episode of the Real Housewives, the fact that I can play Nintendo without guilt on a Saturday as an adult, going for a walk on the first sunny day of Spring, a social distance discussion with my friend Sarah about a book we’re reading. I have to put it out there. I have to know that something good is coming—big or small—to get me through days like the ones we’re in.
3. Don’t be ashamed to be disappointed. Listen, as my friends and I say sometimes, “We was all sad.” This isn’t a competition. So don’t be embarrassed or ashamed to be disappointed that your beach trip got cancelled, or your birthday will happen alone in self-isolation this year, or that you don’t get to go to the play you bought tickets to a year ago, or you don’t know when you’ll see your family again because of all the risk involved. Those are the things I’m disappointed about today, and instead of pretending like they’re no big deal, I have to feel it. I know friends who are grieving the loss of trips to Italy, Spring Break plans, graduations, senior years, jobs, and more. And if we’re going to be isolated physically, we shouldn’t feel like we have to isolate how we feel emotionally. We shouldn’t be embarrassed to say, “Hey, this super sucks. I’m so sad about this.” It doesn’t mean you’re insensitive to the gravity of what’s happening; it doesn’t mean you’re flippant or selfish. It means you’re a person who is dealing with this in your own way, just like all of us are, and that makes you real.
4. Stay connected. This one is sooooooo hard, especially for those of us whose life mantra is, “I’m fine.” We don’t want to ask for help or reach out, but hey, now isn’t the time for pride. So, do whatever you need to do to stay connected. Do what you gotta do. I have friends hosting online cocktail hours, small groups, Netflix watch parties. Even right now, I have a 25-person family group text with my extended family that’s getting me through the day. I’m texting friends, calling friends, FaceTiming my nephews. I even saw my friend Rodney while I was out for a walk and had a safe, social-distanced conversation shouting across the street at each other. I’m doing whatever it takes to connect with someone—anyone—everyday because it’s so important. Isolation breeds a lot of things, most of which aren’t great. It’s, in my opinion, a tool of the enemy. And while we have to be in it physically, we don’t have to be in it emotionally.
5. Release control. Is this one a nightmare for anyone else? I told someone today that I have never felt more out of control in my entire life. And if I operate out of that place, I’m gonna freak right out. I could spend my moments trying to control every single thing around me to the point that I have lost all sanity, or I could release. So, here’s what I’ve come to: I’m going to do every single thing I can in my power to be safe, be wise, and be healthy. And I’m going to ask the people around me—the people I love—to do the same. And then, I have to release. I have to surrender (the worst, right?). I have little control over the future at any point really, Corona Virus or not. So I have to trust that God, who is bigger, more powerful, and cares about me and everyone I love more than I do, does.
6. Pay attention to what you do have, not what you don’t have. One good thing that’s come out of this so far? I’ve gone all Mr. Rogers and really started to appreciate my neighbors. I live away from my family. And for a number of reasons, I can’t get to them or be close to them for at least the near future, maybe longer. When I think of it like that, I feel more alone and isolated than I ever have. But when I stop and look around—when I pay attention to what I do have and not what I don’t—it helps. I have a roommate who is like a sister to live with and go through this with. I have friends who have checked on me, texted me, prayed for me, sent me Bible verses, offered to buy my groceries, checked in on my mental and physical health, and more. If something happens to me, will I want my mom? Duh! But will I be alone because I can’t be with her? No. I am literally overflowing with framily in my life right now, and that has never been clearer or meant more to me than in this season. It’s funny how isolation has brought me more awareness of the community of people who love me. Thanks, neighbors!
7. Pray – like a lot! I’m doing this every single day, multiple times a day, until this is over and beyond. When I wash my hands, I pray. When I can’t sleep, I pray. When I wake up, I pray. When I’m scared, I pray. It’s literally the only thing I know to do in this small apartment. I’m no doctor. I’m certainly not a scientist. Other than staying home and staying healthy, there isn’t much I can do to stop this thing. So, I pray. And when I do, I feel more powerful than powerless.