You can handle this, folks.
It's tough. Please know I know. It’s scary. Disheartening.
Horrible, confusing news flies at us daily like bats in a nightmarish version of a Hitchcock film. You cover your head and run but the bad news bats outnumber you.
You didn’t ask to be in this horror movie. No one did.
I know people at this point who are actually afraid to be in a good mood because they don't know what will fly in to shatter any peace they gathered. But they know something will. They figure it’s not worth the pain, the tumble of disappointment and renewed fear. Again.
It doesn’t make it any easier that when we need each other the most, we are separated further because of COVID, fear of COVID or the politics of COVID.
But....you can handle this.
You know how I know?
You are not your circumstances. That’s how I know.
Circumstances, like everything else in life, will change.
Circumstances might be devastating at any point but answer me this: What have you already survived? Massive loss? Disease? Divorce? Mental illness? Systemic racism? Addiction? Bigotry? Bankruptcy? Unemployment? A natural disaster?
In the days following Hurricane Katrina, I honestly felt —hell, I knew—it was the end of the world. Or at least the end of the blissful world I had known hours before a 30-foot wall of water wiped several Gulf Coast towns off the map.What the sea didn’t claim, the 170-mph winds battered into submission.
My heart cracked before I even crawled out of a long, screaming, exhausting, night into the light of the dawn. I was glad for the light of day. Then I wasn’t. It was total and utter destruction in every direction.
I could (and did) cry, fret, fume and freak out but there was zero escape. There was no help from the government. The Bush administration left us to die for weeks after.
You know who finally stepped up to save us? We did. In a million individual ways.
Some people were injured, some were in shock so debilitating they couldn’t move. Some were dying on their feet. Some had seen people perish in agony or simply disappear in a whoosh of rising water just hours before.
Everyone was on their knees.
Still, we stepped up. Together. We were extra gentle with each other it seemed, even speaking to one another in quiet tones, if only to contrast with the harsh and broken landscape we found ourselves in.
We shared.
We shared food, medication, encouragement, news and whatever clean water we could find. People I didn’t even know came and cleaned up my yard so John and I could sleep on the lawn. They did it without asking. They simply showed up.
Strangers cleared paths where there were none, and came and got my mother in a bread truck and took her to a barely functioning hospital to get help. There were no ambulances left, all of them were crushed or had been thrown into the ocean by the storm.
However, a storm doesn’t have to be a 30-foot wall of water and 170 mph winds. What we are going through right now in America is a very threatening storm. But storms pass. Every single storm in the history of mankind has passed. And this one will too.
You have to be extra gentle with yourself when circumstances are harsh. It’s imperative that you speak to the best of yourself and don’t ask questions like: Why me? Why can’t I have the life I had yesterday? Why didn’t I do something to avoid this? Am I stupid?
You won’t find comfort in the answers.
Ask a better question.
Better questions get you better answers.
Ask: What can I do? Then do that. What will make me feel better in this moment? Do that. What can I do for someone who’s suffering (even if the person suffering is you)? Do it.
Better questions = better answers.
Who would’ve thought that people cleaning up debris in my yard after a hurricane would have made my life that much easier? They did. They really did.
Those folks didn’t ask “Who’s going to clean up the massive miles of this mess?” First things first. They asked, “Can I clean up a mess in front of me?” “Does a person who can’t walk need someone who can?” and “I don’t have much but I still have a shoulder. Who needs to cry on my shoulder? Let’s cry together.”
Crying together, I found out, is one of life’s unexpected prescriptions for grieving together, rising together and moving forward.
So is laughing together. So is singing together.
There’s power in numbers.
Yes, you to have reach deep some days. Really deep. But it won’t kill you. You may have to fake bravery you don’t really feel. That won’t kill you either.
See things as they are, but not worse than they are.
It supremely sucks when bad news bats are flying at you. Swat them. Some days your attitude is the only choice you have. But it’s still a choice when every other choice has been taken from you. Revel in it.
If you have electricity, clean water, cell phone service, the ability to get food and an intact house you have more than millions have had in the absolute worst moments of their lives. I know. I lived without those things after Katrina in the Deep South August heat. Holy third-world country, Batman. You don’t want to know what that’s like.
Don’t speak yourself into inaction and self-pity. That doesn’t help. You can’t afford to get lost in that darkness. Not now.
We are all suffering. It’s not just you. We are all scared. It’s not just you. Get up.
Remember the sun. It’s always there, even when the clouds cover it.
You'll see it again. I promise.
Remind everyone who needs that reminder, even if it’s you.
Rest. You have to rest, even in the worst of times. Especially in the worst of times. You need rest. You deserve rest.
If you break down, rest. Then get up, have another go. We don't tell toddlers learning to walk not to get up when they fall. We don't figure it's over when they go down hard. We know that's life. We don't say "Oh they'll never walk. Stop trying. kid."
We know full well they’ll walk, and then, eventually, run.
And so will you.
You can’t rebuild if you don’t rest.
Laugh. No virus or government can keep you from laughing at the things or people you find amusing, online or off.
You need to breathe. Laughing is good breathing.
Sing your favourite song. Dance. You can dance in the darkness. No one can stop you.
Find your prayer, whatever it is and whatever form it takes for you. Go there.
How you talk to and treat yourself during the hardest times of your life will make the difference in how much you suffer and how well you survive.
Talk to yourself gently, forgivingly and well. Do not talk to yourself like a victim, even if you are one.
If you’re still alive and upright, you my friend are a champ. Make sure to acknowledge that. It might not make you feel great but it will feel better than berating or feeling sorry for yourself.
You're not done. Not by a long shot. I know who you really are.
And I’m here if you need me.
Power in numbers.
Rx for the Apocalypse
Been wondering how you're doing especially during hurricane season. I miss your posts on FB, am hoping all is well.
Very thought-provoking and motivating and inspiring. I’m really still just absorbing it. Rather at a loss for words, because of the enormity of your experiences, and how overwhelming it was/is. But your inspiring point is how we just keep going, when we think we can’t. And we help others do the same