Lifelines

"The writer must write what he has to say, not speak it." -Ernest Hemingway 

Sometimes I write to tell people something important, and sometimes I write to tell myself something important.  Sometimes I write because I don't know what else to do or how else to say the things I need to say. I'm not a speaker, that's for sure. I can't express myself well with the spoken word, but I find that the best version of myself appears when I write. Writing helps me interpret my world around me in ways I can't by other means.

Sometimes I write when I am navigating difficult feelings, and that's what I am doing tonight.  As I write, we're still in the middle of a pandemic. A lot of people don't want to talk about the pandemic because it's depressing, and I would agree with that. But tonight I'll talk about the pandemic ever so briefly and then we'll move on and talk about other things that are hard.  When this all started, I started to notice that my patients were spiraling from a mental health standpoint. They were anxious and depressed and wanted to hurt themselves or people around them.  I watched it all from afar, not knowing how to possibly help them. I threw them whatever lifelines I could-- a listening ear, a bump in their antidepressant dose, a referral to a counselor or therapist.  I told them to stop watching the news and gave them tips on bedtime routines and told them to limit their screen time before tucking in.  And they are all seeming to have made it; they are here now coming into clinic and still feeling isolated but seeing that there is life on the other side of this thing.

But now, I am the one struggling.  There are pressures at work that are mounting quickly, an expectation to adapt and to be efficient and to work work work.  The burnout is leaking out of my pores; it's seeping into everything I do, invading my home like a disease.  It's crawling into my marriage and my relationships with friends; it's keeping me from doing things that are life giving to me-- reading, writing, playing with my dog.  And so I'm treating myself like one of my patients this week. I'm turning off the TV and putting away my phone; I've ignored e-mails and text messages in favor of just letting my brain rest.  I went to the lake this weekend and woke up at 5:30 for beautiful sunrises and writing morning pages lakeside.  I went on walks and paddled around in my kayak and read encouraging words in books.

This season is hard for all of us in different ways.  Some have lost loved ones unexpectedly, whether due to the virus or other tragedies.  Some are isolated working from home alone-- wishing they had a roommate or a spouse or a dog.  Others are home with young children who are filled with so much energy that you just feel zapped by day end.  Others still are working on frontlines and doing their best to protect you and your loved ones. Some have lost jobs, businesses, opportunities. And many are mourning the loss of normal- the way things once were.

I thought I was immune to all of this; I thought that my patients were the only ones struggling through the difficult thoughts and emotions. Turns out I am there, too. And so I'm trying my best to offer myself grace and to allow myself the space I need for all of my feelings-- the happy ones and the sad ones.  And I'm grabbing on to whatever lifelines are being thrown at me right now-- whether a kind word, a thoughtful prayer, a warm meal, or a hot cup of tea. And I'm remembering to take care of myself so that I can take care of others, because pouring from an empty cup feels like giving away parts of me I don't have right now.

The Holy Spirit sends me soft reminders of God's love through all of this; Scripture reminds me, as I'm reading in the Old Testament right now, to be strong and courageous (Did you know Joshua is told this four times in the first chapter of the book of Joshua?). I am grateful for this space to share the things on my heart and mind, and I'm grateful for those who listen. Sometimes writers can only find their way through putting pen to paper, allowing the ink to flow and their thoughts to wander.

Take care of yourself this week, in whatever ways you need to. We're all finding our way to the other side of this thing.

C