I Freaked Out This Morning: Here’s why

I freaked out this morning.

Like full on, forgot all of my anxiety coping skills, spiralled into hopelessness, freaked out.

For the most part, I’ve been doing surprisingly well coping in a world with Covid-19. I’m not bragging, I just have done so much therapy I was weirdly prepared to put my head down and trudge through this type of trauma, rather than being thrown off my axis.

But this morning… Man, I freaked out.

I have officially been in quarantine for 57 days. That means 57 days of very little physical movement, very little physical contact with other human beings, no social contact outside of a screen, limited access to new experiences, little to no reason to groom myself, and increasingly similar tasting meals with decreasing nutritional content as rations dwindle.

Additionally, social media has become the center of what-feels-like-everyone’s social lives as it is really the only pandemic-approved way to connect. But even social media is fruit of the same poison tree as it is saturated with death counts, protesters demonstrating how little they care for their community, and the stress and depression of billions of people undergoing collective trauma.

I’m not here to complain. You know all of this. You’ve been in quarantine too.

I am also not looking for your pity, your sympathy, or your help as I have a lot of privilege that I am not trying to ignore. I have an income. I have a home. I have health insurance. I am white. I have lots of privilege (as usual, scroll down for links if you want to read more about how the impact of Covid-19 is imbalanced across communities and identities).

But even with my privilege and my skills, I have not been safe from this collective trauma. And I’m assuming you haven’t been either. And I’m here to tell you that it’s ok.

It’s ok, every now and then, to take a look around you and freak the fuck out. This is scary. This is stressful.

I, as it is, am on mental health leave from work because I recently tried to kill myself. I am having a full on identity crisis about my career at a time when the future of the economy is uncertain. I’m taking risks on a writing career that is the opposite of a “sure thing.” I am one individual going through so much shit and I’m also surviving an international pandemic.

And on top of it all: we.are.going.through.collective.trauma.

We all already have a whole lifetime’s worth of bullshit, and stress, and trauma. We have hard things in our lives that are already difficult to cope with. Racism still exists. The patriarchy is still out there. We are still holding a presidential election in November. Not to mention, all of these landscapes are shifting as well, because of the pandemic.

If I’m being completely honest, I’m writing this piece to try to make myself feel better about freaking out this morning. Since the start of quarantine, my main line on the situation has been “It is what it is. As long as I’m doing everything to help within my control, obsessing over the stressful parts will achieve nothing but a negative impact on my mental health.”

This is still absolutely true. I still believe that practicing radical acceptance is the only mindframe that will help us survive this mess with our sanity intact.

And, at the same time, there needs to be allowances for moments of weakness. For times when we just have to freak out. We need to be gentle with ourselves when it is just too difficult to accept and we need to spend our day under a weighted blanket.

Covid-19 impact across communities and identities:

Racial Disparities- The Washington Post

Racial Disparities –The Atlantic

Domestic Violence

Homelessness

Mental Health Maintenance

It’s weird.

I’ve been falling apart for a while. I almost killed myself in October, but my mental breakdown started far before that. And it came in waves. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been a hot ass mess since I got raped in 2010.

I have a brilliant support system, and everyone in my life has gotten used to my messiness by now. They have realized they can’t really count on me to show to social occasions. They’re familiar with my red, puffy, pale depression face and deadpan responses to small talk. They have come to expect my need to step away from the group to cope my way through panic attacks. They may not completely understand it, but they know. And with that, naturally comes a certain measure of emotional detachment. You see, I am not always the one who is stable enough to listen to their woes or give them advice. I have been the “broken friend” for a while, but I’ve started to own that.

The weird part is, lately I’ve been experiencing a subtle role-reversal.

Since Covid-19 came in and turned the world upside down, I have noticed that I seem better equipped than most of the people I know to handle the anxiety and depression triggered by such a catastrophe. It’s almost like the years I’ve spent in therapy, the roller coaster I’ve been on, the personal trauma I’ve gone through, have prepared me with the skills one needs to maintain mental health through quarantine.

Those who don’t suffer from mental illnesses (or haven’t sought help for them yet) on the other hand, have no idea how to cope with the shared trauma we are experiencing in our current context.

All of a sudden, I have gone from being the “broken” friend to being the friend giving advice about skills that can help everyone survive Covid-19 with their mental health intact.

As of now, our governor is considering extending the quarantine for even longer, and I’ve had 3 of these types of conversations with my friends over a 24 hour period this week. Therefore, I thought others may benefit from some of the materials I’ve made to help myself cope.

The links below are to downloadable google docs with journal pages I originally designed for myself. If you find them helpful, you can print and fill in the blanks, copy the prompts into your own journal, make a copy into your own drive and change it around to suit your own needs, etc.

Scroll down below each worksheet and find a model of how I’ve filled it out for myself.

A note on sources: I created these materials myself based on what I learned by participating in a Partial Hospitalization Program at the University of Michigan Hospital. All of the skills I utilize in the worksheets are based on the work of Dr. Marsha Linehan in developing Dialectical Behavior Therapy.

Worksheet #1 (click here to see downloadable google doc): A set of questions/prompts to journal about over your morning coffee/tea/breakfast. These prompts help me practice Radical Acceptance, help me ground myself in a purpose every day, and give me ideas on how to spend my unstructured time that day.

Worksheet #2 (click here to see downloadable google doc): A worksheet I use for every individual emotion I struggle to cope with. I have made one of these babies for when I’m feeling depressed, anxious, socially anxious, triggered, and panicky. Yes, it’s a lot of work, but I keep my journal with me everywhere I go. And, as juvenile as it feels sometimes, I need to refer back to these pages when I’m overwhelmed with an emotion. It is not always easy to remember all your strategies “in the moment.”

Worksheet #2 is based on a strategy I learned for reframing cognitive distortions. If you have ever gone to a therapist that practices Cognitive Behavior Therapy, examining how your thoughts impact your emotions isn’t unfamiliar to you. While engaging in this kind of therapy, I’ve come to realize that my thoughts make patterns, and specific negative thoughts are recurring. This worksheet allows you to break down the process into a reference tool for dealing with the most common negative thoughts you have.

I’ve Always Been a Pain in Someone’s Ass

Something that I will always be able to admit to is that I’m a brat. I’ve never not been a brat, I always will be a brat, it’s kind of just part of who I am. I’m sincerely just a pouty mermaid at heart. At this point in my life, I am able to honor and accept my flaws.

I got a lot of grief growing up about being a brat. It’s understandable. Without any knowledge of how to set or honor boundaries, without socio-emotional education around how to compromise, express my emotions appropriately, and be diplomatic, of course my brattiness was a burden.

I’ve always been a pain in someone’s ass.

But here’s the thing, my brain is not “normal.” I have ADHD, anxiety, and depression. All of which manifests in my personality and made me behave in my youth “differently” than you would expect from a “normal child.”

I will never forget how scarily relatable it was in The Joker, 2019, when I watched Joaquin Phoenix write down, “The worst thing about having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.”

The way my brain is wired made me behave in ways dominant society deems inappropriate or negative in little girls. For example, my anxiety makes it difficult for me to cope with extreme sensory experiences; bright lights, repetitive noises, tight clothing, strong smells, etc. Therefore, the fluorescent lights at school gave me severe headaches all through elementary and middle school before I had the power to dose myself with ibuprofen. My headaches made me cranky and I would often be short with people when I would respond to things, leading to being labeled with an “attitude problem” or as a “bitch.” All I desperately needed was alone time in a quiet darkened room, but I had no ability or knowledge to help me express that.

The most difficult parts of my personality, though, are associated with my ADHD. My ADHD, although not a mental illness, is closely linked to my anxiety and depression in that it had a lot of impact on my self esteem. Therefore, a lot of the triggers I have for my anxiety and depression come from personality quirks associated with my ADHD.

With ADHD I: zone out and get distracted easily, have moments of extreme hyperactivity, can be SUPER LOUD, have difficulty finishing tasks, can’t stay organized, get super excited over seemingly small things, exaggerate all the time, and can’t sit still. The consistent negative feedback I received as a child as a result of these quirks showed me how ill suited I was to many traditional institutions. This resulted in me suppressing all of these parts of my personality in order to be accepted by those traditional institutions. This suppression doubled down on my anxiety and depression.

Eventually I wanted to kill myself.

Let me give you some examples of what I’m talking about:

Example: My habit of exaggerating and getting excited about things means I am a really passionate person. This means that when I start something new, I am super passionate (ok, maybe a little obsessive) about it. Same thing goes for: new friendships, new relationships, new projects, new goals, new jobs, etc.

It took me a lot of social missteps throughout my life to learn a balance so I don’t come on too strong.

See, social boundaries like that are something everyone assumes people just have. When really, my ADHD means I’m not necessarily naturally equipped with the understanding around those boundaries. And since everyone just expected me to know them, no one ever really taught me about them.

I had to learn through repeated rejection.

We live in a harsh world.

Then, my anxiety and depression kicked in, and all of the sudden other peoples’ approval became tied to my self worth. I developed a mindset where I felt I had to change everything about myself to get approval, or it would prove I was worthless. I suppressed my passion for other people. I became aloof. I made relationships impossible.

A second example: My abstract mind.

My mind moves really quickly. I am also an extremely analytical thinker. This means I process information at an extraordinary rate. I am also able to see connections and patterns across information quickly. Basically, I am on Step E before most people finish reading and processing the directions to Step A.

This also means I have a great ability to have empathy and see nuance because I see many different contributing factors and extenuating circumstances in every situation. I explore everything through multiple perspectives.

Therefore, I usually want to discuss decisions, assumptions, and conclusions so we can all reach a consensus that would be best for everyone involved.

The problem is, no one ever taught me that people in authority expect deference to their status and respect for their position when suggesting counterpoints to their confident, absolute, assertions. No one ever taught me about social politics, or about the types of bias people carry with them that will change how they look at you.

No one ever told me about the privileges I have in this regard, nor taught me how to sense in a situation when it’s actually time for me to be quiet.

I had to learn the hard way through being called a “know it all” and a “bitch.” Being told I’m “difficult,” “ abrasive.”

Or, “People would listen to you more if you just worked on your tone.”

I didn’t realize speaking to you as if I’m your equal was offensive to you.

I was taught to shut up. By the people on whom my voice was a burden.

A pain in the ass.

They used their power to stifle my voice because they didn’t like what they heard.

People with authority over me bristled at my arguing. They became apoplectic at my persistence, and convulsed at my constant questioning.

I learned how to turn my voice off ALL the time, just to be safe. So I could avoid upsetting what felt like everyone.

I forced myself to come off as demur, submissive, “laid back” *cough*easy.*

I forced myself to disappear.

I was miserable.

I almost killed myself.

We live in a harsh world.

Sidebar: Luckily I’ve started to figure out when it truly is not my turn to speak from the voices of people who have been brave enough, generous enough, and thought highly enough of me, to tell me when I need to shut up and listen. The people who shouldn’t have had to be the ones to teach me this, but did anyway. The people to whom I have unending respect and gratitude. The people whom traditional societal institutions have failed even worse than they’ve failed me. Find a list of resources to explore more diverse voices below.

“Normal” institutions and structures in our society have never served everyone, even before Corona came and fucked them up.

And I am a voice with a lot of privilege in this regard.***

But my brain is different than the “normal” student our school system is designed for. I learn differently. I have a different set of natural interpersonal skills. I am sensitive. I am intensely moral. I am passionate. I am bisexual. I live outside of binaries.

Dominant society takes what is unique about people, that which separates them from the status quo, and punishes them for it. We break people down, strip them of their joy, their culture. We force them to assimilate.

I am one of the lucky ones.

Being able to suppress everything about myself in order to be accepted by the status quo is a privilege I have, as my “otherness” is not visible.

And even with that being the case, I still felt so alone,

unlovable,

dirty,

different,

weird,

worthless,

broken,

that I wanted to kill myself.

As we approach our lives moving forward after Covid-19, I hope we can take all of this into consideration.

Covid-19 is scary. There are so many unknowns and variables here. It really sucks to feel as though you are trapped in something you can’t get out of.

The anxiety is real. Honor that. Process that. Seek therapy. Take care of yourself, please.

Then, when we’re ready, let’s take a critical look at our values and needs as a society moving forward. With many institutions falling apart around us we have an opportunity here.

An opportunity to potentially build a socio-emotionally focused education system that takes mental health, learning style, race, language, LGBTQ+ status, social class, access to technology, culture, etc, into consideration when designing policies, processes, and curriculum.

We have an opportunity to fight for a health system funded by taxes from the people who have made great shows of donating money to hospitals and other relief organizations… because maybe if the tax funding was there, the medical supplies and food would have been there before people started getting sick in the first place (gasp! But isn’t this socialism? Yes. Yes it is… But can you guess who has socialized healthcare? South Korea. Can you guess who has also successfully managed and moved past the Covid-19 pandemic? South Korea******).

I realize I am being hella idealistic here. But I feel like it’s about time someone was.

Because people who have been failed by society this whole time already know what it feels like to live in a perpetual state of anxiety and survival. So this feeling isn’t new for them…

—————————-

Over the course of my life I have felt my otherness, and therefore suppressed my otherness. I hid in my privilege and fooled even myself into thinking I was perfect. And no one called me a brat for like 15 years.

So my bratty-ass self is back and I’ve finally unleashed her full power. I will assert what I want and need because I deserve to be happy and successful as myself, just as everyone else does. I am fragile and I am sensitive and I am dramatic, and everyone is just going to have to deal with it.

This time around though, therapy has given me the skills I need to balance my many needs with my desire to love and be a good support system for others.

This time around, I have the education I need to build and maintain healthy boundaries.

This time around, I am working on how I can make myself feel seen, validated, and loved.

Just like everyone else right now, I am still in my struggle.

But I am working on it.

*** I mentioned several times above that when considering how societal institutions have failed us, I am a voice of privilege. Below you will find resources to learn about how the education and healthcare systems have failed a diverse range of voices (I figured you should hear about these experiences from the actual source:

LGBTQ+ students

LGBTQ+ healthcare

Decolonizing Reproductive Health

Weight bias in healthcare

The 1619 Project and healthcare

****** I recognize this situation is far more complex than I am making it appear here. I just want to remind you how I use hyperbole in the artistic craft of my writing. If anyone has any reliable sources on the actual details of the way South Korea handled their Covid-19 situation, comment a link?

The Soundtrack of my Trauma

TRIGGER WARNING: The following contains a description of a sexual assault. As much as I try to avoid peddling in trauma, sharing my story is something I’ve realized recently that I need to do. The following traumatic experience was the most formative experience of my young adult life. It has held me stuck, stripped me of my power, kept me from my life, and potentially ended my career.

Well, that chapter officially needs to be over. And my therapist says one way to process through trauma is exposure to it. In other words, sharing my story. Hearing it. Reading it. Discussing it. So my brain can file this information away differently and my body doesn’t have to perpetually live in fight or flight mode. Selective mutism has kept me from speaking these words out loud, even to my therapist. That hasn’t changed. I still can’t speak about these things out loud (like, literally, physically can’t). Which means I’m not going to be able to answer questions associated with this post quite yet either.

So, as usual, I’m using this online space as an experiment in being open and vulnerable, and hopefully therefore, a bridge to healing. My tarot reading this morning gave me the confidence to feel like today is the day for step 1… so here we go…

If you feel like you can’t handle reading the specifics, I see you and I respect you, thanks for stopping by.

I was in college. It was Halloween. I was dressed like a bird. Earlier that week a boy had stopped by my apartment looking for his mail as he had been the previous tenant. I thought he was cute and we flirted a little bit before he took his mail and left. Imagine my sense of it’s-a-small-world surprise when he walked into the Halloween party I was at a few days later. He immediately struck up a conversation with me. He told me I had pretty eyes and fed me a fifth of Bacardi Razz. I, on my college budget and underdeveloped prefrontal cortex, had only eaten white rice that day. The alcohol quickly took control as it traveled through my empty stomach into my bloodstream. I remember talking to him. I remember kissing him. I remember following him upstairs. Then we were in the bathroom and I was sitting on the sink and he slid his hand up my skirt and took off my panties. At that point I had a breathtaking moment of lucidity where my brain cut through the alcohol fog and I realized what was about to happen. And I didn’t want it to happen. I did not want to have sex with this stranger.

I slid off the counter.

I gently pushed him away from me.

I said I needed to find my friends.

I said I was sorry

I said I had to go

I said please stop

I said I was sorry

I pushed him away a little harder

I reached around him for the doorknob he grabbed my wrist he turned me around he pinned me against the counter he pushed up my skirt.

From the moment of penetration on I don’t remember feeling him inside me. I remember numbness. I remember hearing his breathing in my left ear. I remember staring into my own eyes in the mirror over the dirty sink.

The next thing I remember I was waking up on the couch in my friends’ dark apartment and my friend-with-benefits-hook-up-buddy-who-really-wanted-to-be-my-boyfriend came to get me. As I descended the exterior stairs down from the third floor apartment – riding fireman style on my fwb’s shoulder – I vomited white rice everywhere. I remember looking at it and thinking “no one will even know this is vomit, it just looks like someone spilled some rice.” I laughed about it to myself.

The next morning I remembered nothing. My brain had initially blacked out everything that had taken place once the fifth of Bacardi was empty. It wasn’t until a days-later conversation with a friend who was at the party that it all came rushing back to me. You see, she revealed my rapist had come down from the bathroom that night, and told everyone in attendance we had had sex.

I went to Planned Parenthood. When they asked if there had been a recent occurrence that made me want to get tested for all STDs including HIV I told them “no.” I stopped going out with my friends and practically moved in with my fwb who was rapidly becoming my partner. I stopped eating. I cried every night. I convinced everyone it was because I missed high-school-boyfriend with whom I had broken up a couple months before. People thought I was just conflicted over my feelings for new boy. People had no idea I was falling apart. People had no idea I was going back to Planned Parenthood every 3 months to get tested for HIV. People had no idea because I never told them. I never told anyone until 2 years later after then-friend-with-benefits had turned into boyfriend and I realized that I loved him and that I was safe with him. I felt guilty keeping this secret from him, like I was damaged goods and he didn’t even know. Like keeping it from him was duping him into falling in love with someone who wasn’t worth any more than what he could get from her body.

Quarantine Activity: Working on my mental health

I’ve only ever known one type of love; love that is conditional.

This is the definitive definition of love that the voice of my anxiety worked deep into my brain, canceling out all others. Love that is conditional.

According to my anxiety, I am constantly at risk of losing the love I’ve earned, and therefore I need to work doubletime to keep that from happening.

You could actually replace the word “love” with any word or phrase representing something I value, that I’ve earned.

“Respect.”

“Trust.”

“A reputation for being a strong teacher.”

I feel as though there is nothing inherently true about me that makes me worthy of these things. If I’ve earned it, I’ve worked for it. If I don’t keep working for it, I will lose it. I operate perpetually in a deficit mentality.

This is why I was always good at school. Once I earned a perfect GPA, I had to keep earning it. Because anything short of perfect would be a failure. Then my reputation for being a student my teachers could rely on to make their job easier, would crumble. My parents’ pride in me would crumble.

See, my perfection has always been measured in the acceptance of others. And I didn’t realize this fact until like 6 days ago.

YA WANNA KNOW HOW, AT 29, I FINALLY REALIZED IT?

There is a specific pattern of behavior I had already identified in myself: I tend to obsessively bend over backwards to please new people that come into my life. This behavior often leads to relationships based on taking advantage of what I’m willing to do for people, rather than people knowing and loving me for who I am.

I never really understood where this behavior came from, but once I identified it, I knew I didn’t like it. So I have been actively trying to make friends lately based on exactly who I am, rather than what I can do to make them like me (this is actually something I’ve been working on in therapy for years, prior to my mental breakdown).

And weirdly, it’s been working. I’ve met, and gotten close to, a few really cool people this way. They are genuine, interesting, both similar to and different from me, and helping me access parts of my creative side that I have been neglecting for my entire life.

One day recently, I was having a conversation with one of my new friends about our gratitude for having found each other. And it hit me how valuable this person has become to me. Then my anxiety kicked in.

Sidenote: on a macro-level, I also find it very sad that the realization that someone values me triggers my anxiety, rather than making me feel good about myself. But, one thing at a time…

Once I realized this new friendship was something I wouldn’t want to lose, I became obsessed with the idea I was going to lose it (OCD).

And, let’s just say, I started acting weird.

Luckily, said new friend is a real one, and called me on it. And, after a genuine conversation (thank goodness for adult relationships) I realized this about myself:

My obsessive need to get the approval of others comes from a desperate fear of abandonment. I fear that my inability to repeatedly prove myself relevant and worthy will result in losing everything I want and love.

This realization was suffocating.

Essentially, I had made this genuine friendship based on exactly who I am and then got terrified that wouldn’t be enough to keep it. So I started overanalyzing every single thing so I could make myself “perfect” and “exactly what he was looking for.”

But, when I started acting like that, it wasn’t what he was looking for.

Because what he was looking for was the friend he had made. The person I was when I wasn’t desperately seeking his approval. The person I was when I was just myself (and he actually fought my bratty ass to prove this to me and get me back, which is truly incredible).

This was a powerful epiphany.

It sucked the bottom out from under me. I was finally able to see my responsibility in the failure of most of my failed relationships (I refuse to take credit for all of them, other people can do shitty things too). I was finally able to see why a lot of my lasting relationships were ones based on using me. I can finally identify the thoughts I have that lead me to feelings and behaviors associated with this specific manifestation of my anxiety. I finally feel as though I have healthy, genuine relationships I can point to as evidence that those thoughts aren’t valid.

And, with a deep breath, I am finally able to release the stress. I can finally exhale the anxiety of never being able to make a mistake, or ask for help, or assert my needs.

I can show people my fragile side, because now I know they won’t judge me.

Or desert me.

Or get sick of me.

So, what’s next?

Well, unfortunately, with any revelation, comes a lot of emotions. I have initiated an intense grieving process for all the years I’ve refused to allow myself to feel loved. I’ve been pretty emotional, but I have also been utilizing my skills and my support system to get me through.

Also, self-knowledge like this doesn’t necessarily mean I am “better.” All of this doesn’t mean that I will have easy, genuine, stable relationships from now on. I still have issues with trust that I need to work on. Not to mention PTSD. And years of habit-forming in relationships that I will have to battle one trigger at a time.

But, at this moment, I am grateful. I am grateful for the people in my life with whom I have built genuine relationships.

I am grateful for the people in my life who are showing up when I need them most and talking me through my bullshit.

I am grateful for every sip of freer air I get to take as I’m able to lift the weight of these realizations off my chest.

Thank you for reading.

How One Depressed Person is Coping with Social Distancing

Covid-19, Coronavirus, Social Distancing, Quarantine. Potential economic collapse. A president who can’t even speak in complete sentences. Our current context is incredibly difficult for anyone to cope with. I can only really speak from my perspective, though, and as someone who suffers from depression and anxiety I’m here to report: we are not ok.

Holy shit, this is scary. People with anxiety are prone to catastrophizing: jumping directly to the worst-case-scenario possible in literally any situation. This is a legitimate thought distortion that many people experience during times of great stress. The general hysteria leading regular, every-day people to ransack big box stores for toilet paper, Ramen, and peanut butter is all evidence of this.

But when you spend a good deal of your daily energy trying to keep yourself from dissolving into paranoid hysterics on a regular day, the rest of the world succumbing to those kinds of thoughts is a horrifying trigger. One tried and true method for bringing yourself back from the edge of a panic attack while catastrophizing, is trying to find evidence for how likely that worst-case-scenario would be. Usually, it is really difficult to find that evidence because our worst-case-scenarios are super unlikely. But right now, our worst-case-scenarios are what everyone else believes will happen too.

So, what the fuck do we do now?

What we’re going through as a collective is tough. As always, I have been on a little bit of a roller coaster because of it. That being said, I’m doing ok. And I want everyone to be ok. So I’m here to tell you what I’m doing, and how I’m coping; in case it helps anyone out there. No strategy will ever be 100% successful, but together we can help each other survive.

Radical Acceptance

Radical Acceptance is something I learned at my partial hospitalization program I did in December. Essentially, this strategy acknowledges that fighting against painful realities achieves nothing but suffering. In other words, desperately wishing a painful aspect of your current reality out of existence achieves nothing but anxiety. If you are practicing radical acceptance you are: accepting the situation as true and final, understanding what you can and cannot control about the situation, being non-judgemental, allowing yourself to feel your negative emotions rather than pushing them away. Once you engage in radical acceptance, you free yourself from the burden of worrying about the outcome of a situation you have no control over. You allow yourself to build a reality that works for you within the boundaries of what is possible, even if it’s not ideal.

How have I been practicing radical acceptance while social distancing? Well, we are not supposed to spend time in public, in situations with 10+ people, we shouldn’t touch our faces, or go to work, we can’t celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. All of that is fact. I can’t change it, no matter how much I want it to not be true.

But there are things I can control about the situation. I can use the privilege of my able body and salaried position to help others however possible. On one hand, that means social distancing so I don’t contribute to others contracting something that could impact them worse than it would me. It also means giving the money I’m not spending on recreation due to business closures to those who don’t have financial privilege to get them through this mess (if you haven’t seen people posting about ways to share your disposable income with those who need it, scroll down and check the links at the bottom of this page).

I can also control how I use my time during this crisis. I could spend my days stressing about the rate my supplies are depleting, missing my friends, desperate to leave my house. Or I could see this time that’s been given to me as a gift.

We could all really use a vacation

I want to start this section by acknowledging my privilege. I understand for many reasons this time off of work is stressful to many not in my situation (this is why I have been venmo-ing various people and organizations money for the last week).

I also believe that if we take care of each other, and take it upon ourselves to redistribute resources to support members of our community, we all could take advantage of this time off.

Capitalism is hard, dude. Whether you believe in it or not, the colonial capitalist system we live in is not easy to navigate. There’s a lot of stress in capitalism. There’s always pressure to be the best. There’s a constant race to cover your bills and afford the material goods that prove your worth to those around you, while only ever looking out for “number one.” Our culture doesn’t value breaks. It doesn’t value down time. It doesn’t value taking time out to refuel and support your mental health.

Well, regardless of whether or not Capitalism values it, we are all officially on a break. Seeing this time as a “break” doesn’t erase the fact that it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s overwhelming, That being said, spending your time being scared and overwhelmed won’t fix anything either. So we’re on break.

What have you been refusing to do because you don’t have time? What hasn’t fit into your schedule because of work and family obligations? How long has it been since you’ve taken a walk in the sunshine? How long has it been since you’ve written a poem? Or learned a new skill? Or practiced meditation? Or made a scrapbook? Or baked cookies? Or learned a new language?

Within the parameters of what will keep you and your community safe, what could you use this time for if you weren’t scared?

Let’s make art

A new friend I’ve recently gotten close to reminded me that destruction is a gift.

This is kind of a radical idea but, what if everything falling apart was clearing the way for new growth? What if desperately clinging to the safe reality we had before is keeping us from creating something that will actually work for more of us in the future? What if accepting destruction will clear the path for creation and growth?

Basically what I’m saying is: during this quarantine, if we’re not making art, finding ways to laugh, and orgasming as much as possible, what are we doing, really?

Links to where you should send your money (I’ll post more as I find them):

Navajo and Hopi Family Covid-19 relief fund

Help youth climate activist Daphne Frias fight Covid-19

No Kid Hungry

Unified Phoenix Service Relief Fund for people in the service industry in Phoenix going without pay right now

Donate to help Navajo families maintain their access to fresh water