Time is an Illusion
It’s Monday, no it’s half Sunday. Actually, it’s quarter to the 15th.
The COVID-19 lockdown days for a person out of work are morphing seamlessly one into another, devoid of a set routine save for a consistent bedtime. How is it possible that March lasted approximately two years and felt like two completely different eras stitched hastily together, yet April flew by in an instant?
Are we watching the time dilation concept from Einstein’s theory of relativity unfolding right in front of our own eyes? Seems like it.
Last Friday – or was it Thursday? – when I flipped the page of the kitchen calendar, I was shocked to see that May was upon us. Where did the time go? And what happened to the great “Transformation and Change” manual I was supposed to write in April? The dog must have ate it.
Strange, I could swear I own a cat.
Understanding Change
The lack of progress on the writing front is not the first of the disappointments brought upon by the COVID-19 inertia. And I know it won’t be the last. How do I know? Because I’ve seen it before. Not this specific crisis, but in many others, which follow the same change-transition-transformation trajectory. Therefore, when I say I know better I don’t mean it in a facetious way. I actually know a thing or two about change.
I have studied the concept of change and transformation at great length and very much enjoyed it. So much so, that I felt inspired to come up with an innovative framework of using the power of one’s character strengths (a branch of positive psychology) to ease the pains of the most difficult, transitional phase of any change/transformation process. The framework became an essential part of my capstone “Strong Core, Happy Life,” written to complete my positive psychology certificate.
A side note: The framework is legit. It has been tested in real-life settings. First, in my own life, helping me to stay afloat during a dramatic change to my living situation that happened in 2018. Second, by successfully coaching my friends through one of the most challenging times in their lives. I know it works and I feel passionate about making it publicly available. When I finally get over the paralyzing apathy.
So yes, there’s an official paper with my name on it proving my knowledge of the subject. You’d think that with all the studying of change and transformation it would make me immune to the hiccups of the COVID19 challenge. Riding the wave of emotions of the transitional phase should feel like second nature. I should be thriving. I should be cashing in on it.
But I am not. I’m barely moving.
Blame Game
Why? What’s blocking the book from coming out? If we rule out the hungry dog in the cat’s household, the next logical suspect would be my lack of motivation.
Yes, I think I’m lacking the motivation necessary to succeed. I need to do more, I need to try harder, I need to set myself another ambitious goal.
Why can’t I be more like the people trending on LinkedIn, who add yet another badge of completed courses to their ever-growing collection of achievements? Daily.
My achievement for April? Switching the tires on the car with the help of my teenager. He did the heavy lifting, I did the heavy receiving of the young man’s frustrated outbursts.
In the end, we both felt proud of the accomplishment: him – of completing the task by himself that so far he’d only assisted with, for me – not giving in to his biting and just being there. An emotional punching bag, a listener, a mother. Is there a “Completed the changing winter tires with a teenage son challenge” badge that I can post on LinkedIn?
Oh, and the facemasks. How could I forget? Our newest, must-have fashion accessory that everyone needs to wear these days. I think I sewed close to 20 of them for family and friends during a cold, April (I think) weekend. I haven’t touched a sewing machine in years but found great solace in the tediousness of sewing.
When sewing is more fun than writing the book does it mean it’s time to change one’s profession?
No, I’m not bitter, just observant.
You Are Where You Are
“You are where you are” I keep reminding people when giving advice about accepting their current situation. Only by accepting what is can we make a conscious effort to rise above it. So where am I?
The cognitive part of my brain knows exactly where. I am in the dreaded middle ground, the in-between phase where the initial shock has subsided and the new reality hasn’t emerged yet. I’m feeling overwhelmed by the magnitude of emotions and the lack of clear indication about the possible end of this phase. One day things go well, the other day you fall back and start again. The Second Act playing on repeat.
It is this repeated aspect that my linear, cognitive brain can’t handle. “We’ve been through this already” – it says. “Dust yourself off and move on. Enough is enough.”
Funny enough, it’s not the brain that runs the show. It’s the heart, and until it comes to terms with the new reality, no amount of strong will can get me out of this stupor.
Bleeding Heart
Right now, the heart is bleeding for the tens of thousands of people who have died, most often alone without a loved one by their side. This one hits close to home, as my own father passed away without anyone by his side when an aneurysm in his abdomen burst. Five years later, his lonely departure on the kitchen floor still weighs heavily on me. Now, at each news refresh, a new wave of triggers awaits activation.
I don’t always allow others to see this part of myself. I might be known among my family and friends for being level-headed and able to use reason when everyone else is losing their marbles. What only a selected few know is that – under the stoic façade delivering facts and stats – there is a land of raw emotions, a curse of the INTP personality type.
These emotions need to be acknowledged and in due time, processed. Not an easy task for people with an overactive thinking function in the best of times, quite a challenge during our current outbreak. Why? Because the brain has no power here, it’s the heart that leads the way. “You are where you are.”
Parenting Your Own Mother
And guess what? If the collective suffering wasn’t enough for my emotions to kick into overdrive, parenting your own mother across the Atlantic Ocean via WhatsApp would do the trick.
It feels like my emotions are having a wild party, where the calls with my mom every few days act like the tapping of a fresh beer keg.
“Mom, please don’t let your need to socialize blind you to the health risks of this virus,” I plead with her. “Please, don’t put yourself on the fast track to becoming a statistic,” I add silently to myself.
Mommy dearest is an extrovert and loves socializing. After weeks spent physically distancing, she’s itching to resume her activities. I understand that and try to be sympathetic. But I’m running out of respectful, yet stern ways of reminding her about the risks that impulsive in-person coffee chats with her friends are exposing her to.
“No Mom, sitting across the table from one another is not an acceptable physical distance,” heavy sigh. “No, airing the room after your friend leaves does not get rid of the virus.” If it worked, we wouldn’t have needed to close all of the public spaces and instead circulate the air via industrial fans. “If someone was to use your bathroom, it will need to be scrubbed with bleach before you can use it yourself.” (Mom hates cleaning so hopefully this one will speak to her.) “Please, treat your living space like a toothbrush, don’t share it with anyone.”
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Why is it so hard for her to comprehend that her age and existing health conditions make her especially vulnerable when it comes to contracting the virus? Am I the only one who can identify how many of the top five most lethal co-morbidities she has? Three, if you were wondering. Not deterred by that, mom thinks she has the upper hand.
I wish I had her confidence. I would have finished my book by now.
Instead, I have to appease my own anxieties that our phone calls prompt. The last time we spoke I was out of sorts for a few hours and had to calm myself with a Netflix show. The heart said it was OK, even though the brain disagreed and gave me a hard time about being lazy.
Today, I feel a little more productive, pouring my inner dialog onto the paper/screen. Not writing the book yet, but not mindlessly consuming someone else’s creativity either. The in-between stage. Well suited for me.
Written on May the 4th. Be with you.