Here we are, where we never imagined we would be.

Hello out there. How's everybody doing?

For the past few days, my mind has been like a gnat; very busy and very active with zero focus. I haven't been able to stick with any single thought, idea or activity for more than a few seconds. This is what happens to my mind when I'm facing a problem I know I cannot fix–like the time I hit a cat with my car–or when I'm facing something overwhelming that I'm afraid I don't have the knowledge or skills to fix–like the years I struggled to run a restaurant.

If I imagine my mental capacities as a pie chart, gnat-mind would look like one hundred 1% slices each chasing individual threads. In addition to making me feel unhinged, being in this frenetic state makes it nearly impossible for me to engage in the activities that normally soothe me like reading, writing, and connecting with people. I do not do my best and highest thinking, nor am I at my most generous when my mind is this scattered.

When I woke up yesterday something had shifted; the mental hyperventilation had stopped. The thing I immediately wanted to do was write, not because I had answers, but because I needed to work through my questions. What is the toilet paper thing about? Will this pandemic change the way we live in the future? Why is change so traumatic?

I have no insights about the toilet paper or the future, but I did want to share what I've been thinking about how change affects us.

Change masquerades as a set of instructions to follow–don't touch your face, stay 6 feet away from people, don't leave your house–so it can feel like it's a list of things we should just be able to do once we understand what they are. And while they are that (things we can do), they are also different than what we were doing before. It's not nothing to reorient yourself to a new routine let alone a new reality–think about how many times you try to turn on the lights when the power is out.

Years ago, in an effort to convince me to stop worrying in anticipation of changes, my Dad told me it was pointless to fret because it's always the thing you never saw coming that gets you in the end. I wasn't having it. I am one of those delusional people who think that I can minimize the impact of change by having really good plans. I believe, in the face of all evidence to the contrary, that I can keep the ship steady by meticulously mapping out the coming weather, fretting about every potential wave and bluster in advance so I can sail through them without effect. 

This past week it occurred to me that my Dad is right. Pandemic aside, there is one thing I never see coming, never factor into my scheming and planning, and it gets me nearly every time. That one thing is my emotional response to change. Even when I do think about how some specific change in my life will make me feel, I'm often wrong.

For example, when I locked the front door of the restaurant for the last time and relinquished the keys, I thought for sure that I would kind of fall apart. Much to my surprise, I felt nothing beyond hungry for lunch–which we went to eat at one of our favorite restaurants nearby. The grief I anticipated didn't roll in until a couple of years later when I accepted a full-time desk job after 15 years of working in food service/for myself. I cried every day and barely slept a wink for my first two weeks. And both of those were changes I created intentionally!

I tell you all of this in case anyone out there is experiencing a reaction to the changes you're being asked to make that is surprising or even distasteful. If that's you, know that you're not at all alone. Quite the opposite, in fact, you're likely in the company of every person you know. Change, especially the kind that is foisted upon us, rarely passes without some friction in the form of grumpiness, rage, gnat-mind, or some other adorable emotional tick.

We all have different buttons, many are overt but some are absolutely covert, hidden even from ourselves. I can't know, with certainty, how something is going to feel until I'm in it. What I do know is that in times of change–political, physical, cultural–there is no wrong way to feel about the events that are unfolding or about your specific situation.

It's easy to feel like the feelings you're having are not ok. One of the things I always feel (and feel bad for feeling) when things are hard is resistant; like I just wish things weren't going the way they were going. I know it's not productive and I should know better but knowing that doesn't make the feeling go away. Elbow room is the only thing that has ever made shitty feelings go away.

Elbow room can be talking on the phone with people who make me laugh and let me cry, sleeping a little bit extra, telling another person how I'm really feeling, eating delicious food, reading words of the wise, fussing over my pets & plants, sending postcards, taking long walks, watching videos of animals wandering around an aquarium that's closed to the public, stretching, dance church (my best discovery during the pandemic so far)...basically anything that feels good to me and doesn't make the feeling feel like it's not welcome to hang out until it's ready to move on. And it will move on.

(Think about it, when was the last time you were really really happy, did you worry that it would never end? No. You knew it would. Same rules apply for icky feelings.)

So if you start feeling twitchy, irritable, or panicked, maybe box out a little. Throw some logistical elbows and make some space to get what you need. I can offer recipes, postcards, book recommendations, and an inbox where you can vent if that's what you need. 

Stay safe out there and do what you can to get what you need, even if you look a little crazy doing it.

-S