Coping with Coronavirus

We use our emotions, rather than reason, to cope with unknowns. It is how humans are currently hardwired. We go subjective, filtering some facts through our personal histories, values, beliefs and societal norms and then react, or respond, from an emotional place. And the unknowns of Coronavirus—how it will affect us, how many of us will get sick, how to really stay safe, how to keep paying the bills—is right here, in our face. Yet we can’t see it. We can’t see how this will end. So we start to feel vulnerable, afraid. And then quickly reach to find ways to manage and control those seemingly out-of-control feelings. We buy toilet paper. We quietly stock our freezer. We go into survival mode.

We may—or may not—be more afraid than we need to be about the Coronavirus. Even that feels annoyingly unclear, how much, and what, do I need to be afraid of? We are all kind of free falling at the moment. Yet we still have choices—we can decide how to proceed, after the surges of emotion subside (and they do ebb and flow).

So what to do?

Know it is instinctive to look for a sense of control or to look for ways to control things that feel out-of control.

When we over-react, worry, obsessively read the news, we may be creating for ourselves added risk—for these mental activities often lead to increased stress. And stress suppresses our immune system, which then makes us more susceptible to illnesses, viruses.

Recognize and notice your reactions—this could be a healthier way to harness a sense of control. Try not to always avoid those uncomfortable feelings, let them be there for a bit. Then ask yourself what the wisest next step could be. Is it to consciously distract yourself with an online dance party? Call up a trusted friend? Take some sort of action? You get to have choices.

You are not alone in this—even if you are feeling isolated and cut off.

A lot of us are adjusting, and adjusting quickly. I don’t know how this will play out—yet I do know that cooperation, collaboration and helping others will lead us down a healthier path than going it alone, feeling like we have to hoard, and not trusting humanity. This is paradoxical if you’ve been asked to shelter in place, and literally cannot physically connect with others. And there are ways to still connect, and it may take some getting used to, or it may not feel the same.

Get back to basics: sleep, food, water, shelter. Ask yourself if you need to focus on improving any of these areas, and what you could do to improve your basic functioning.

If it all feels wayyy too much, reach out of a licensed therapist, counselor or talk line. You aren’t weak to do so. These are intense times.

Be well :) you can get through this. More tips soon.

If the recent pandemic has affected your ability to cope, anxiety treatment can help you overcome these issues. Reach out to me through my contact form to start your healing journey.

2 Simple Ways to be Present in the Midst of Climate Stress and Anxiety

Antarctica had some of its hottest days on record this past February, and my first response was a gut-level sickening dread. I’ve felt this way before, and my mind quickly supports my body by creating worst case scenarios. I then spin out fast—or shut down fast.

I’ve gotten tired of living in the extremes, as have my clients, so I’ve been working on how to fill in the middle ground of this all-or-nothing reaction. Part of the answer lies in staying in the present moment as much as possible when the big surges of dread, fear, sadness, anger and anxiety happen.

I’ve come to realize that dread (and other feelings) can be a signal that one has entered the territory of being aware that one is feeling—feeling vulnerable, scared, lost, and/or out of control. There could be a deeper truth one senses but does not want to face—or can’t yet face. And when all these fearful parts are vying for an answer, a solution, a fix in order to minimize feeling the feelings—it can be hard to not immediately follow their lead.

Here are two things that have helped myself, and others, manage the reactions that climate-news whiplashes bring. It starts with getting more savvy at staying in the here-and-now. Although these two tips may not directly address climate-change, they can help us cope with the combination of daily life challenges mixed with climate-related anxiety and stress challenges.

1. Cut back on multi-tasking. Getting busy can initially be a helpful and healthy way to take action, to feel engaged in something positive. Choosing distraction on purpose, as a way to self-regulate big emotional up’s and down’s can also be helpful. That said, chronic multi-tasking is not helpful. We get confused, drained, and strained.

   Our lives seem to be filled with multi-taking, or short attention span activities. Our nervous system can get used to this type of stimulation, and after a while, it may seem like being scattered and flitting from thing to thing, past to future is normal operations.

   And yet you can choose to narrow down. Even in a harried moment of writing an email, while hearing people talk, while feeling heavy and off because of a fight you had last night, while having your phone blow up with texts, while needing to make a dentist appointment, while still shaking off the article you read about Australia burning, while remembering a meeting you aren’t prepped for, while internally yelling at yourself to do more, and do better, to keep it together— you can choose to focus on just one of these streams. Hear the chatter of the people, decide if you want to invest in headphones or earplugs, then move on—focus on writing the email, notice each letter you type. Take some breaths. Then attend to the next thing. And the next.

   You can also make the decision to carve out some amount of time to practice doing just one thing—and commit to immersing yourself in that one thing. Even washing a mug and focusing on the sensations of water on skin, hands moving, soap bubbling, is a practice you could probably incorporate once a day, for as short as 30 seconds.

2. Experiment with giving yourself time, even ignoring conventional time. Part of the work of coping with new unknowns via climate-change is the process of becoming more flexible, spontaneous, tradition-deviant, courageous, collaborative and strong. These qualities are important to hone because they are skills that will help us continue to adapt, to increase our comfort-ability with being uncomfortable, and will encourage our minds and bodies to problem-solve in more non-linear, creative ways. And can help us stay in the now.

   One way you can embrace fluidity, lack of control, paradoxes, loss, adjustments is to engage in play, wonder and dreaming—which requires us to slow down. Float on a raft in a lake, lie in a hammock, look at the stars, build a thing, lose track of time. Get absorbed in something fully that feeds you, inspires you. This is different than losing yourself in a fantasy—this is basically taking a break from future-ing or past-ing in order to be able to jump back into the overwhelming, scary stuff.

   You may have to work on giving yourself permission to lose track of time—for the phrase, “waste of time” can be cunning and deep. Notice if you create some open time for yourself, then feel guilty for not attending to other things. It may take some time and validation from yourself, and someone else, to fully immerse yourself in losing track of time.

If you are experiencing anxiety because of climate change, climate therapy could help. Reach out to me through my contact form to start your healing journey.

Sharing Our Climate Crisis Stories

Knowing you are not alone in your experience can be a helpful reminder when facing what feels hard, scary or overwhelming. This post is an excerpt from a book I am currently working on. In sharing my story, maybe you can feel a little less alone in yours.

The fall of 2018 in California was so dry and rainless. Our summer had been full of wildfires and smoky days, so a rainless fall had put me on edge.  Everywhere I looked, I saw tinder-sticks, and imagined any little patch of anything could start a colossal fire.  And as the winds came, those colossal fires did, in fact, resume. By late fall, the Bay Area seemed to have grown accustomed to hazardous air, and when the smoke from the Camp Fire reached its apex in early November, the air my daughter and I breathed was deemed the “worst in the world.”[1]

My toddler and I were home sick with some combo of a smoke-cold the day I was forced to look deeper at my fears.  Her coughing had become a continuous background sound, painfully reminding me that her pre-existing asthma was being exacerbated by the fine particles settling into her little lungs.  The old Berkeley duplex we lived in was ill equipped for these new climate hazards, and I’d been anxiously trying to seal the cracks and holes I had once found charming. But the air kept floating in, of course, mocking my attempts to create safety, and draining my daughter of her health and energy.  I kept hoping the air would clear.  It didn’t.   

As the afternoon wore on, the sky became dark too early.  More smoke was coming in. Things were getting worse, not better. I texted a fellow mom friend, and we decided to meet in Tahoe that night with our kids. Flee to the mountains, I thought.  Is this what it has come to?

I immediately started doubting my decision, per my usual self-distrust pattern.  I wondered if I was over-reacting.  I began comparing myself to the mainstream—schools were still open, people were going to work, operating as if nothing too abnormal was going on.  As a case manager, I considered the 90 clients on my caseload and how they had it way worse than me.  Who am I to have the luxury to leave? But no one knew when the fires would be contained or when the winds would carry the smoke out of the Bay.  And the asthma inhaler and humidifier weren’t cutting it.  

It was after 7:00 pm when we left; I hoped it was late enough to avoid getting stuck in the notoriously slow-moving traffic along I-80, where the air was even more nightmarish.  As I ran in and out of the house, franticly packing the car while attempting to not breathe, my thoughts rapidly raced, “The N-95 mask doesn’t fit her,” “Our car air filter hasn’t been changed in a while,” “Am I going to make her sicker?” 

My daughter’s cough worsened as I sped through the worst of it.  As she slept and coughed, the too-big, useless mask slipped off her face.  There was nothing I could do. Visibility was scary and unpredictable, like a fog that got blackout-drunk and starting raging against anything in its way. I found myself narrowing my thinking, keeping my focus on what was in front of me.  It got to the point where adrenaline took over, and I didn’t have room anymore to notice my fear. I just drove really, really fast. 

My daughter and I found relief—when we reached the mountains, her cough became semi-normal.  I felt ashamed for how much I had taken breathe-able air for granted.  Although relieved, I was still on guard—worried about my daughter, about the people in California being affected, and what the air would be like when we went home. Although I had made the right decision to leave and was privileged enough to do so—I still felt a nagging unease that this challenge wasn’t close to being over.  

That day was my wake-up call.  Granted, the climate-related crisis I experienced was tame compared to what others endured in California that day—and what others in the U.S. and around the world have experienced or are currently dealing with.  All the same, it was an event that shook me up, and left me with a lingering sense that I needed to do more. And that I also needed to get my confidence up around decision making.   

After that time, I started noticing the information needed regarding how to deal with climate-related stress was sorely lacking.  There was a lot of reading I could do about the predictions and the tragedies—and not much in the way of how to cope with it all. 

Yes, we know the glaciers are melting—and that things may get a lot worse before they get better.  That everything may change as a result of our changing climate.  And how are we doing with this news? What are we thinking, feeling, believing? Who do we want to be in the face of climate crisis and change, what actions do we want to take?  

Well, it is time to start figuring that out.

If you are experiencing anxiety because of climate change, counseling for climate crisis can help. Reach out to me through my contact form to start your healing journey.

 J.K. Dineen and Gwendolyn Wu, "Northern California air quality rated the worst in the world, conditions 'hazardous,'" San Francisco Chronicle, November 16, 2016, https://www.sfchronicle.com/california-wildfires/article/Smoke-still-plagues-Bay-Area-skies-a-week-after-13394932.php.