coping – The View from a Drawbridge

Signs of Hope

It’s helpful to know that the valleys of your life moved you forward on your journey every bit as much as the peaks did.

We all have good days and bad days. It’s not realistic to expect that our lives will be sunshine and lollipops every waking moment. Not only isn’t it realistic, but it sets you up for failure, because sooner or later, a certain amount of sh*t is bound to hit your personal fan. It’s the nature of things.

The nice thing about getting older is that you start to realize that you have gotten past a fair share of your allotted fan soilage. It is therefore safe to conclude that you will do so again. I find that just comforting enough to hang on during those hard times.

I find it particularly challenging to keep on the sunny side of life when we’re halfway through winter, and everything around me is grey and dead and clammy and unpleasant, and there’s no end in sight. It’s disheartening when you go weeks on end without ever seeing the sun. Thank heavens for SAD lights! They’re like a candle in the window that leads me back to levelheadedness. I’ll take all the help I can get.

When I’m feeling overwhelmed or hopeless, those subtle portents that indicate that things may just be getting better are often all it takes to give me the strength I need to soldier on. So rather than putting my head down and wallowing in my sadness, I try to seek out those portents. It could be the smile on the face of someone I love. It could be that cute way that toddlers walk with such intention and determination. Maybe it’s waking up to find my dog’s head resting on my shoulder.

I also find that the hard times I’ve survived make me appreciate the good times even more. It’s difficult to take something for granted when you can look back and see all the peaks and valleys that you’ve traversed in your life. And it’s helpful to know that those valleys moved you forward on your journey every bit as much as the peaks did. Good times are headed your way. That’s something to think about on a cold, sunless winter’s day.

I’ll leave you with a portent: on my way down my driveway today, I noticed the first flowers of the season blooming in my garden. (I actually wrote this post back on February 22nd, mind you, on a day when yet another light snow was forecast, so it was startling.) I’m attaching a picture of the portentous posy below.

Spring is coming. It’s only a matter of time. We’ve got this!

Namaste, dear reader.

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Autistic Anticipation

How do people navigate such turmoil?

I was just diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) in December of 2022, a few weeks before my 58^th birthday. I wrote about what caused me to seek this diagnosis here. I’m rather new at this stuff, and I’ll be blogging quite a bit about various aspects of it as I go along, reading and learning and wondering what this means for me, as I suspect that quite a few other people are experiencing a similar thing.

Check out my autism category for a list of relevant blog posts, and never forget that 1) I’m just one person, writing about my personal experiences with a thing I only just learned I had. 2) No two people on the spectrum are alike. 3) I am not a medical or mental health professional. 4) I’m not attempting to write a one size fits all autism advice column.

There’s this coping mechanism that I have employed my entire life. Usually it serves me well. Unfortunately, sometimes it backfires. But it works often enough to not change my ways at this late date. Still, I suspect it wouldn’t hurt if I revamped my operating system a bit.

I’m now calling this coping mechanism “Autistic Anticipation”. It’s second nature to me. It’s how I’ve learned to survive in a world that thinks differently than I do. It never occurred to me to break it down into its basic parts until now. Looking at it through the lens of my autism, I suspect it’s an autism thing, but I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just a Barb thing. I’d be interested in your perspective in the comments below.

If I’m walking into a situation that’s not the usual routine for me, I tend to preview what I assume will happen in my head before the event takes place. I do this because I don’t like surprises. I find the unknown to be extremely (and if I could come up with a word that was more extreme than extremely, I’d be using that) stressful.

I do this before going to a restaurant or a party or having a difficult conversation with someone. I do it before making a phone call or going to the grocery store. And I’m so practiced at it that I often do it in a split second. But here’s the thought process:

“I’ve never been to this restaurant before. The following people will be with me. We’ll walk in and there will be someone waiting who will take us to our seats. Or maybe they’ll tell us there’s a waiting period, in which case we’ll sit there and wait unless it’s an obscenely long waiting period, in which case we’ll go elsewhere. Or maybe there will be a sign that says ‘Please Seat Yourself’. If that’s the case then I’ll let my friends decide. I prefer booths or tables that aren’t too close to the kitchen or the bathroom or the entrance, but I’d rather just let someone else choose. I’ll review the menu online in advance so that when it comes time to order, I’ll already have a pretty good idea of what I want.”

I usually don’t anticipate beyond that point, because by then we’re finally settled in at the restaurant, and everything usually goes smoothly from there. Situations like this, which are fairly straightforward, rarely backfire on me. But when they do, it really rattles my cage.

For example, I anticipated arriving an hour in advance for an important meeting because my stress level goes through the roof when I’m running late. As expected, I got there in plenty of time. But then I had anticipated killing that time by going into the nearby public library and using their bathroom and then reading a book. I had already checked on line and the library would be open. (Public libraries are an oasis for me. They’re usually quiet, and not overstimulating. If I could live in a library I would.)

But this was an unusually cold, snowy day, and when I got to the library, even though there appeared to be about 5 employees inside, they refused to open because they weren’t fully staffed. All the libraries in the county were closed. Many staff members couldn’t even get their cars out of their driveways.

Now, I get that life is full of surprises. I really do. And I’m guessing a neurotypical person would maybe be mildly disappointed by this unexpected glitch, but would pretty much take it in stride. But for me this was less of a stride and more of a stumble.

My brain tends to short circuit for a bit when things don’t go to plan. That, and I was already nervous about my upcoming meeting, and to make matters worse I really had to pee. I was in a part of town that I was unfamiliar with, so I kind of froze like a deer in headlights while I tried to figure out what to do.

Obviously, finding a bathroom was the top priority. So I went to my car, looked up convenience stores near me on my phone, and attempted to find relief in each one. I don’t know if it’s a COVID thing or a Pacific Northwest thing, but every place I went either claimed not to have a bathroom (gimme a break), or the bathroom was out of order or closed until further notice. Next, I tried gas stations. Same deal.

By this point the only option I could come up with was to walk behind one of the gas stations, go behind the dumpster, and… well, you get the idea. Blessed relief combined with repugnance and humiliation. I killed the rest of the time that needed killing by sitting in my car in some random parking lot, trying my best to calm down and not cry.

If I didn’t do my Autistic Anticipation thing, every experience would feel like the library one to me. Nothing can ever go to plan when there is no plan. So I plan.

The most problematic scenarios for me tend to be those that involve conversations with people. In my head, I say A, the person responds B, I reply C, and they react D. I draw my assumptions from past interactions with that person. I think, “She’s going to discount my suggestion because she often does,” or, “He’ll really enjoy this information, and will probably laugh with me about it.”

I’d say about 60 percent of the time the conversations go the way I expected them to. But when they don’t it tends to upset and/or confuse me. The worst case scenario is that I anticipate giving someone what I assume they’ll think is good news, only to find that it angers or upsets them instead. I bet you can practically see the smoke coming out of my ears at that point. Major system malfunction. What do I do now? Shut down. Reboot. And that tends to amplify the other person’s negative response.

Someone gently pointed out to me recently that I should allow people to tell me what they think rather than assuming I already know. Good point. Very good point. I wish it were that easy.

But I get knots in my stomach when I contemplate living in such a chaotic world. Imagine, people running around willy-nilly, thinking for themselves. How do people navigate such turmoil? I struggle to picture it.

My autism isn’t something that I can switch on or off at will. For me, autistic anticipation isn’t some mere personality flaw that I can just get over. It’s a survival skill.

My autistic masking/quick fix for this will be to try not to voice my assumptions in front of that person. But that adds to my stress and causes me to have to remember yet another rule. My brain is already jam packed with rules that I try to follow so as not to irritate the people around me. I’m better at this than most neurotypicals expect, but they also don’t understand how much energy I have to expend to keep up the facade. They see a blank expression on my face, but that’s because I’m focused on running on the autistic hamster wheel that is my thought process.

I’m a work in progress just as everyone else is. But at least I’m starting to familiarize myself with all my inner cogs and gears and how they function. That’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?

I expect you’ll say yes. And just like that, there I go again, making assumptions. It’s practically a reflex at this point.

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Being Beaten by Baguettes

Assault with alliteration. And carbs.

I love alliteration, and I love bread, so the title of this post came naturally to me. It actually manifested long before the content did. But I knew that a title that trips off the tongue so tantalizingly should not be tossed out. (See what I did there?) I had to find a way to make use of it. But how?

And then I had an exceedingly bad day.

We all have those, of course. But I didn’t handle the situation well at all. It was entirely too triggering, and I therefore had a massive melt down. Whenever someone witnesses that occasional coping flaw of mine, I can see them looking at me like I’ve become completely and utterly unhinged, and the look of confusion and discomfort on their face makes me feel worse. Off I slide into a negative spiral. It’s not fun. (It could be argued that it’s not exactly a picnic for those who helplessly bear witness, either.)

Welcome to my world.

It’s really hard to explain an apparent overreaction to someone who is basically cool, calm and collected. They are seeing a minor thing and what appears to be an over-the-top response thereto. To that I say: you have no way of knowing what negative memories one has rotting in the basement of one’s brain. You don’t know which straw will be the last one for the camel. You see a surface situation and a surface reaction, but you don’t see the crux of it. You don’t see the scar tissue or the deep, deep down final freakin’ straw of it all.

So back to the headline. It alludes to assault with alliteration. And carbs. So here’s what I came up with to accompany it.

Imagine this: You’re walking down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées in Paris (lucky you!), and you happen to see a man hit a woman with a baguette. Naturally you are startled by this. One does not witness such a contretemps every day. Oh non.

Before you can react, the man disappears down a side street. You aren’t even sure you got a good look at him. Was he dressed as a mime? (Probably not, or he would have been on the receiving end of the assault. But I digress.) It all happened so quickly. It’s hardly surprising that your main focus was on the yeasty weapon he chose to employ.

When you turn back to the woman, you see that she has dropped to her knees and is doing that kind of chest-heaving, exhausting, cleansing cry that most men cannot imagine. (Unlucky them.) They don’t understand the subtle healing powers of some negative emotions.

But why such a strong reaction? I mean, yeah, it was a strange situation, but after all, it was bread. There are much worse things in this world to be hit with, literally or figuratively. Bread probably won’t even leave a mark. Nevertheless this “hysterical” female is drawing a crowd.

Why is it that so many of us default to judgment rather than comfort? Do we have to agree with her feelings for them to be valid? Must we empathize in order to feel compassion?

For all you know, this woman is being stalked by that man, and this was not the first baked good she had been pelted with this week. Perhaps baguettes remind her of her recently-deceased and much-beloved father who owned a boulangerie not far from this very spot. Perhaps she has a health issue that magnifies even the slightest pain to excruciating heights. Maybe she has a serious problem with food that is not gluten free. It could happen.

I’ve never understood people who believe there is a right way and a wrong way to feel. We are all individuals with different life experiences and different trauma. Our feelings are our own, and we have every right to express them as long as there’s no violence involved.

It may not be easy, especially with strangers, but if you see someone suffering, offer comfort, not judgment or solutions or any phrase that begins with “you should.” Just acknowledge their feelings and offer your presence in whatever way you both feel is appropriate. Don’t pony up unsolicited advice or roll your eyes.

I would like to think that if I saw a woman being assaulted on the street, even if it were just with a pillow, I’d ask if she needed help, or a hug, or just wanted to talk about it. This type of offer allows dignity and agency to be restored to the ~~victim~~ survivor. This gives a fellow human being the opportunity to gather him or herself and take the next step on what will most likely continue to be a very complex life path.

Only the receiver can know just how many “baguettes” they can take before they begin to feel like these implements of destruction are actually baseball bats. And that’s as it should be. But because of that, it behooves all of us to cut people a bit of freakin’ slack.

And… now I’m craving bread.

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Spring Fever in the COVID Era

It’s more about the Fever and less about the Spring this year.

I just watched two people get into a shoving match on the sidewalk of my bridge. Apparently the masked one felt that the unmasked one had gotten too close. But now the cautious one just touched the incautious one with his hands. That was probably not the best idea.

I’ve also seen two women get into a shouting match over the last bag of flour at the grocery store. I thought they were going to throw down right on the spot. I beat a hasty retreat before the flour had a chance to fly.

I’ve had several absurd misunderstandings with friends on social media this past week. Some were a matter of me losing patience with ignorance that I’d normally let slide. In some cases I suspect alcohol was involved, and there’s no reasoning with that. Still others were the result of me shooting off my mouth and having to apologize afterward. It’s as if everyone’s nerves are on the surface of their skin.

This year’s spring fever is more about the fever and less about the spring. The usual excitement this time of year has turned into restlessness and frustration. Social distancing is turning into emotional distancing. People are really starting to lose the plot. I don’t know about you, but there’s only so much I can take.

We have to remember that we’re all afraid. Some of us fear for our lives, others fear for their livelihood. Many fear for both.

Many of us realize that the scary statistics only relate to confirmed cases, and not very many of us have been tested. Have you? I sure haven’t. That, and a lot of countries are under-reporting because they feel that the truth would make them look bad. And a lot of people are dying at home, and the health care system simply can’t keep track. No one really has a clue as to how flat the curve actually is.

No matter where you stand on the issue, one thing is certain: we all want this to be over. If only wishing could make it so. If only declarations from our so-called leaders would make COVID disappear. But there’s no happily ever after in our immediate future. This will not be a sprint or even a marathon. It will be a long, heavy slog.

We’re just going to have to make an extra effort to be patient with one another. We’re going to have to avoid shoving matches and flour fights. We need to engage in radical self-care. We need to realize that there’s no force on earth that will make the deniers do the same, so we’ll just have to give them a wide berth and hope that the fittest will survive.

And for those of us who feel we’re not coping by intestinal fortitude alone, there are resources out there, and I strongly urge you to take advantage of them. A longtime reader of this blog (Hi Lyn!) sent me a very useful link entitled COVID-19 and Your Mental Health, and it’s full of a ton of helpful advice and lists of organizations that are waiting to assist you. Please don’t hesitate to reach out.

We can do this. It may not be pretty and it definitely won’t be fun, but we can do this. I promise.

end-of-your-rope

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N-N-1: The Quarantine Edition

A creative description of how many of us are coping.

For several years now, I’ve participated in a delightful photography/creative writing experiment that was created by two of my favorite bloggers, Anju, who writes This Labyrinth I Roam, and Norm, who writes Classical Gasbag. They thought it would be interesting to see what people all over the world were doing/seeing/experiencing at the same point in time. As Norm explains it, in N-N-1 the first N stands for the number of participants, the second for the number of photos (they should be the same), and the 1 stands for one time.

The subject I chose for this N-N-1 was Quarantine. Our worlds have been turned upside down by COVID-19. What are you and/or your family and/or your community doing to cope during these strange times?

I received a variety of wonderful submissions, showing that we each have different ways of living, which is as it should be, and in fact always has been. But I also found it very comforting to know that when all is said and done, we’re all in this together.

Thank you to everyone who participated! Stay safe everyone!

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n-n-1 picture

Driving for Grandma and Grandpa,

Running their errands, buying food

And picking up prescriptions,

Brightens my mood

And makes me feel valued.

It only happens once or twice

Every couple of weeks.

But it gets me out of the house

And away from their piques

Of anger over political critiques.

I love my Grands

And they love me,

But when politics arise

I would rather flee

And agree to disagree.

-Natalie Garvois https://wildriversrunsouth.wordpress.com/

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I had trouble deciding on an appropriate photo for this N-N-1. I took at least half a dozen different pictures that dealt with different aspects of how I was coping with our lockdown. Then I thought that I could make a collage of the pictures and use that, but it didn’t feel right. Each of the photos were the same things I would normally do, only to different degrees, such as more time reading but no time in restaurants. Well, there was the picture of my mask, but it wasn’t a compelling picture. The only truly new thing that I’ve done is to start posting a link to a song on Twitter each day. The song matched my feelings about our situation each day. But then I realized that it was a pretty sad look at the world each day, so I started mixing things up. I’ve also posted songs performed by people who have died in these times. So, my picture is my laptop opened to my Twitter page.

Norm, https://classicalgasbag.wordpress.com/.

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Isolation. Social distancing. Masks. Gloves. The world has been turned on its axis. There’s so much talent coming out. People are making sweets at home. Some are picking up new hobbies. Stories of this time spent with you and only you will ring out forever.

Nature is healing from what we have done to her. Wild animals are coming out of hiding. It’s their planet too. We can’t deny that.

As I walk back home, my footsteps echo. Birds on the pavement pay no attention. The silence is soothing.

When the noise comes back, will I embrace it or forsake it?

Ashesh Mitra – http://asheshmitra.blogspot.com/

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6am – Already? Am I colleague or mummy this morning?

7am – Log on. Engage brain to squeeze out maximum productivity in the next 5hrs.

9am – Rest of team logs on, emails fly about, calls launched with vigour.

12pm – Leisurely lunch during her nap? Maybe I should nap too… No! Exercise and a quick lunch. Done.

1.30pm – Woken by 2yr old ready to seize the rest of the day. Parenting mode – enabled.

3.30pm – Pick play-doh out of the carpet and stop her eating strange leaves outside.

8pm – Toddler asleep after nightly battle. Movie? Quiz? Haven’t seen you all day, probably should.

11pm – FINALLY bedtime.

Mwila http://chisbingredblog.wordpress.com

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Being “outside” has meant staring at the sinking colors of the setting sun, sneaking a quiet moment in the balcony. Questions of how much the world has really changed tsunami up before receding… I’m equal parts hurting from the anxiety and recognizing still, the joy and wonder of all this time together with the person i love the most on this planet. Isn’t this how life is supposed to be? But how? How is any of this sustainable? And then the moment passes, just like the pink, orange skies melting into deep blue-black all too soon. This quarantine has taught me that nothing is truly ever in my control.

https://www.becomingneha.com/

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Over the weekend, we got up early to avoid the crowds, and went on a walk. About ten minutes into our new careers as walking enthusiasts, something fluffy lodged in my throat. Ironically, it was during a conversation about Trump and Masks. My brain told my body to cough. I told my body that it is going to do no such thing. “Cough and you’re grounded for TWO weeks!”. In the ensuing fight between our current cough-less public etiquette, and my body’s natural defence mechanisms, I nearly choked myself. And yet, I survived. Then, I treated myself to this view!

Anju Lavina https://thislabyrinthiroam.blog/

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I’m not going to lie. This is how I spend the bulk of my time when I’m at home these days. Sitting on the recliner, my husband beside me, dog in my lap, watching Netflix. Sometimes I switch it up and watch Amazon Prime or Hulu or Youtube.

Killing time is killing me. I’m getting fatter by the minute. When I get up, my joints are so stiff I can barely walk. Depression washes over me in waves. I try to take walks, call friends, garden… but I’m more sedentary with each passing day. Quarantine sucks.

But at the same time, I’m grateful to still have a job to go to for 40 hours a week, and a paycheck and a roof over my head. No one I love has died to date.This is both a relief and a surprise.

I’m hoping this pandemic will cause us to change in positive ways. We’re learning to be gentler on the earth, and we can no longer take our relationships for granted.

These are good things, right? This makes it all worth it, right? Right?

Barb Abelhauser https://theviewfromadrawbridge.com/

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On February 29^th the Governor of Washington state declared a state of emergency due to Covid-19. In the following weeks, a “Stay Home – Stay Safe” order closed all non-essential businesses and we began our shelter in place. Gray, rainy days with temps in the 40’s and 50’s encouraged remaining indoors. By May 5^th when the sunsets were nearing 9 pm, State Parks were reopened for day use. And after ten weeks of staying home, we received a preview of summer with three consecutive days of temps in the mid-80’s. This brought everyone outdoors. Mother’s Day 2020 saw busy roads as family’s brought Mom to the forests, trails and parks. This photo was taken as I drove into the town of Black Diamond on my way to the Green River Gorge.

Cris LeCompte, www.RealtorCris.com

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Is there any more space in your heart- she asked?

I looked away, pretended I didn’t understand the question.

Well is there? She persisted- brown eyes staring at me unwavering.

I said there is plenty of space in my backyard.

You can hang there with Wendy, Jerry & Suzy.

All 6 feet under- converted to fertiliser for my jackfruit tree.

Yes, later. But now can I hang with you?

I looked at my father- NO- it was said with finality. I looked at my mother -no she said with future sadness.

I’m tiny! How much space do you think I’ll occupy?

Too much space.

Mary Alexander, (The background story is published here – https://thislabyrinthiroam.blog/2020/05/13/guest-post-midnight-all-day/ )

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Photo taken on a solitary walk through the woods on Mother’s Day

Change is hard. And spring is a season of change. It seems harder this year and it is taking longer. The flowers are having trouble rising above the blanket of leaves, remnants/memories from seasons past. A light dusting of snow in early May brought refreshment, a longing to return to a hidden comfortable world that no longer exists. Nature teaches that change is inevitable. It will happen and we will grow and blossom beyond what we ever imagined, in ways never known before.

Peace and Joy and Love and Trust

Linda Zeppa, www.intuwriting.com

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My Lockdown Sanctuary

Before quarantine, I thought my little balcony was only just big enough to stand on. On around day 20, while on the phone to my mum and searching for some sun in my flat, I discovered I could wedge my chair (part in, part out) and sit in what is now my favourite sun spot in Valencia.

As spring turns to summer, this squashed little space has become my sanctuary, during strict confinement. Here I have felt free, at peace and so thankful for all the little things. Which really do mean so much.

Lauren Molzahn, Laurencian Tales (site still under construction)

A Cystic Dream

I can handle it.

I have this recurring dream during periods of high stress in my life. I feel this painful, pressurized lump somewhere on my body, often on a shoulder, hip, or behind my ear. I try to squeeze it to no avail. Messing with it hurts, but I have to get it out of there. I pick at it. I scratch it. No luck whatsoever.

Then one day, I’m clawing away at it without much hope of success, and, pop! Suddenly it bursts through the skin. It’s still attached, still intact, but at least it’s outside my body, so the pressure is reduced. Even so, I want it gone. So I take a deep breath, brace myself, and cut it out. It detaches with a sickening, watery, ripping squelch. But it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as I anticipated. What was I so worried about?

Now I’m holding it in my hand. It’s warm. It’s actually kind of pretty, now that I’m free of it. It’s a perfect sphere. The most perfect one I’ve ever seen. It’s shiny and white, like a pearl. (That is, if a pearl were the size of a golf ball.)

I’m kind of in love with this thing, because I realize that it’s all my problems, beautifully encapsulated. I can control it. I can handle it. Best of all, I can get rid of it. So I do.

I always wake up smiling after that dream. I often go to sleep wishing that I’ll have it. I take comfort from the fact that it exists somewhere deep inside me.

It is survival.

Pearl

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Making Headway

Never give chaos the recognition it craves.

I’ll tell you a little secret that will stun you: I used to be on top of things. Yeah, I know, right? Me? Organized? Hard to believe.

But it’s true. For years there, my to-do list wasn’t so long as to overwhelm me to the point of near paralysis. I was actually efficient. Stuff got done. All my trains ran on time.

I don’t know when I started losing my grip and slowly sliding toward the whirlpool of utter chaos, but here I am. It seems as though staying organized is like treading water. You can’t ever slack off, even for a minute, or you start to sink. And once you start sinking, it’s a lot harder to get your head above water again.

One trick I’ve had to learn over and over and over again is not to give chaos the recognition it craves. Once you’ve done that, it engulfs you. It’s just too much. You become convinced that you’re never going to see your way clear.

No. The trick is to focus on one thing. Just one little thing. Do that. Feel that sense of accomplishment? That’s your superpower. The more you feel that, the more you’re able to do. A friend of mine calls this keeping your eye on the shovel. The shovel. Not the great steaming pile of… stuff that needs shoveling. And before you know it, the mound is a manageable size.

I’ve been really sick for about a month, so I’ve been feeling more paralyzed by inactivity than normal, but the other day I finally got done one thing that I had been putting off for months, and man, was that ever a fantastic feeling! And that gave me the strength to do something else. And I really feel a lot better now.

There’s still a ton of stuff to do. There always will be. But I feel like I’m coping again.

I just have to remember that just as you should never look down when you’re afraid of heights, you should also never look chaos in the eye. He does not have your best interests at heart.

chaos

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Sweet Relief

I felt as though 500 pounds had been lifted off my shoulders.

Unless you have no pulse at all, you are carrying stress within you, even as you read this. We all do. It’s part of modern life. It comes from a feeling of being overwhelmed, and thinking that you can’t cope with a situation.

According to Wikipedia, that font of all human knowledge, stress can increase the risk of strokes, heart attacks, ulcers, and mental illnesses such as depression. So needless to say, stress is bad for you.

What I find particularly scary is how easily I fool myself into thinking I’ve gotten used to a certain level of anxiety. It’s as if I am coping simply because I’ve come to expect that I will have to wade through some crap, and that’s just the cost of doing business.

That doesn’t mean the stress, with all its toxic side effects, has disappeared. It just means that I’ve resigned myself to it. That’s problematic, because it also means that I’m no longer trying to do anything to relieve that stress. I’ve concluded that there’s no solution, so I just bathe in it, regardless of the pollution this brings into my world. After a while, I seem to forget it’s happening.

But every once in a while, some fortuitous thing occurs that removes a stressor from my life. That happened just this month. And the change within me has been profound. I started off by feeling slightly sick from the sheer release. Then I felt as though 500 pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. Freedom! Sweet relief.

And then there was the inevitable shock that I had been carrying that weight for so long without even realizing it. (Actually, I knew of about 50 pounds of it, but not the full 500.) It makes me wonder what other burdens I’m carrying. No wonder I’m so tired much of the time.

I think I need to work on being more aware of what my body is trying to tell me. I need to address issues whenever possible, even though I hate confrontation. I need to stop walking around with my head in the clouds and take better care of me.

In the meantime, I’m going to go do a happy dance to celebrate my newfound freedom. Woot!

Happy Dance

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Helpless Stress

Sooner or later, every train engineer will have someone step in front of his or her train as a way to permanently solve a temporary problem. That must be a heartbreaking experience. You want to stop, but you know you can’t. I suspect that all you can really do is close your eyes, swallow really hard, and get ready to fill out a boatload of paperwork.

No doubt this sometimes happens to bus drivers as well. And I’m sure ferry captains have their fair share of jumpers, just as we bridgetenders do. I can’t even imagine what first responders deal with on a daily basis. It’s a part of these jobs that no one wants to talk about. Helpless Stress.

It’s that feeling of being completely out of control. It’s that desire to save someone, and not being able to do so. It messes with your head. It’s the kind of vicarious trauma that people don’t quite understand until they’ve experienced it themselves.

The most frustrating thing about it is you know you’ve been through something big, but you’re not physically hurt. Nothing shows. Your wounds are on the inside, where no one can see them. So your friends and loved ones often expect you to “snap out of it.”

If you have experienced helpless stress, I urge you to take it seriously. Talk to a professional; someone with experience in crisis or grief counseling. Don’t try to simply power through. What happened is not your fault, but if you choose to not cope with it, that can compound the problem.

You’re not alone. Help is out there. Please seek it out.

Helpless Stress

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Assumptions

“My coworker is a slob. She says she cleans up after herself, but she doesn’t. I can tell. She has no respect for me, or for the job. She has a bad attitude. She can’t be trusted.”

Wow. I’d hate to work with someone like that! It must be so frustrating. That can’t be doing good things for your morale.

Here’s the problem with that assessment, though. It includes no fewer than 6 assumptions. The speaker is viewing those assumptions as fact. Let’s pull back the veil and look at the actual situation.

Your coworker isn’t more or less sloppy than the average person. You, in fact, are obsessive compulsive and hypervigilant. She does clean up after herself. It’s just that by the time you come along, several other people have been in the work area, and your coworker has no control over that. The state of the office is not a reflection of her respect or lack thereof. She actually loves the job and takes it very seriously. Her attitude is quite good, but she admittedly is on the defensive in your presence because her experience with you is that you are judgmental. She’s extremely trustworthy. (You might want to ask yourself if you find it possible to completely trust anyone.)

That kind of sheds a different light on the subject, doesn’t it? We all see the world through different lenses. We are the sum total of our past experiences. We all have our weaknesses and strengths.

Viewing assumptions as truths is life’s shorthand. It sure makes things go faster… but often in the wrong direction. As a coping mechanism, it does not serve us well. But it takes practice, being self-critical.

When is the last time you asked yourself what proof you had for a particular conclusion? How do you know people are thinking what you think they’re thinking? Have you asked? Mind reading is a heady power, but it’s the worst assumption of all.

Another assumption would be that I’m an expert at identifying my assumptions simply because I’m writing a post on the topic. On the contrary, I struggle with this concept on a daily basis. I’d like to think that I’m getting better at separating fact from fiction, but I suspect this will be a lifelong exercise in self-improvement, and one that’s entirely too important to pass over.

Assume