It’s been a scary couple of weeks. We are waiting right now, staying home, hoping that by staying home, less people will get COVID-19, that the hospital will be able to take care of everyone who gets critically ill. We are listening to the news, hearing about how things are in other places, hoping its different here. Hoping we acted fast enough, that we are staying home enough, that our family will be safe, that this virus won’t claim the lives of people we love.
And we don’t know. We don’t know if we’ve done enough. We don’t know what or who we may loose. It is uncertain and it is scary.
Through this week I have been reminding myself of the last time I felt this much uncertainty. It was November 2007. And I had a family member in the critical care unit of Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto.
I have been thinking about this time because it reminds me of how strong I am, of how I’ve survived times of great uncertainty before. I’ve been thinking about what was helpful in that time and using the skills I learned over a decade ago to get me through my days right now.
These are the life changing moments. They tell us so much about who we are and who we want to be. The things I learned outside the Critical Care Unit I have brought with me, expanded and relearned many times in the years since that time.
I think of my life as “before” and “after” that moment because I am not the person I was before this happened.
The same is true for this corona virus pandemic. I am not going to leave this the person I walked into it. In the two weeks since I started this, it is obvious that I am already not that person anymore. The same is true for you. You will be different. This world will be different.
As I’ve been revisiting the lessons from the biggest uncertainty in my life, I wanted to take some time to share with you the lessons I’m bring with me through this COVID-19 pandemic. My wish is that they help you, like they are helping me.
Sleep in a Bed
Preferably your bed, at night time, wearing your PJs. I say this in all seriousness. I know that what that first wave of uncertainty feels like and there is no reason to do anything. Eat. Sleep. Shower. Those first moments of uncertainty exist in this time of suspended animation. You are just shocked.
But you can’t stay there forever. At some point you need to start doing regular things again. A good place to start is by going to bed. At night. In your pyjamas and trying your best to sleep and then getting out of your bed in the morning, and getting some light on your face so you have a better chance of sleeping the next night.
“Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff”
I remember there was a book called “don’t sweat the small stuff” and I thought that idea was so dumb. Like if something is bothering me, how can I manage to just “not care” if I care about it! But the reality of sitting outside the critical care unit is very sobering and small things just cease to matter.
I didn’t care if people didn’t like what I asked for in my emails. I didn’t care how a person on this earth was dressed. Really, I spent a lot of time being someone who was impossible to annoy, maybe I was a little disconnected from my anger at that time. But honestly, it felt more like grace. Grace that came from showing up as I was, asking for what I needed, doing my best and having compassion for others assuming their own good intent. We were all doing the best we could.
I wore camo pants to church that weekend, because I was in a different city, I hadn’t really packed and I wanted to go to worship and I remember thinking “what someone wears to church is so irrelevant” So much of what we can get uppity about is also irrelevant. It’s good to remember that.
But take joy in small moments
Sometimes this seems like it’s contrary to not sweating the small stuff, but I have found this to be life blood in times of stress and uncertainty. It is, for me, the same somber sobriety of these uncertain times that makes clear both “what I’m wearing right now has no real meaning” and “Sunlight is incredibly warm and beautiful”
When you are locked into the moment you are in, there is an abundance of beauty and peace.
It was in this time that I started my mindfulness practice (even though I didn’t know it at the time) I was forced to surrender to the present moment; enjoying small things like the smell of my shampoo, sunlight streaming through a window, how deliciously chocolate melts in your mouth. These were the moments that gave me peace and strength, and carried me through moments that were much harder.
Focus on what you CAN do
There is a certain air of helplessness when there is a crisis you cannot actively participate in. When someone is sick and there is nothing you can do to make them better. In these moments it is helpful not to focus on your lack of skills and abilities, but to find a sense of purpose from what YOU can contribute.
Now is the time to ask yourself, what are my skills and abilities? What are my gifts and talents? What work do I do that still needs to be done. Then do it; offer it into the world. Maybe its keeping everyone in the loop. Maybe it’s preparing food. Maybe there are mundane emails that need to be sent that you can do and check off your list. Maybe there is something you can create. Focus on what you CAN do. and execute on that.
Give up what you have no control of
The other half of focusing on what you can do, is letting go of what you cannot control. I’m not sure it even matters where you give it up to. In times of uncertainty some of us feel strong faith, others of us feel completely abandoned, most of us feel both and all the places in between.
Whether I was giving up my fear, worry and desire to control to God, or giving up to the care of the medical professionals, the practice of acknowledging what was out of my care and letting someone or something else have that piece is incredibly healing.