Adding to the Noise

 One of the more frequent questions I have been asked of late is how the pandemic has impacted my/our stress levels. At first I really did not think it was adding to my stress. But as time goes on and the future is looking somewhat bleak there are a million different thoughts that are coming at me at warp speeds adding to my anxieties.

I know. Following anything or anyone on social media these days provides a plethora of thoughts, ideas, and beliefs. And due to some morbid curiosity I go back, hoping to find something I agree with to find salve for the soul. And I find something but before I settle down something else pops up that makes me shake in anger or fear or frustration, adding fuel to my anxieties.

I don’t have to remind you that our life prior to the pandemic could be stressful at times. And at times those, what we now call normal stressors, would overwhelm us. Covid has added another layer. A stressor that won’t go away.

So we have the ongoing debacle called an election down south, we have anti-maskers flaunting public health orders, there is a thought of not being able to celebrate Christmas in a normal way, there are rumours of vaccines, there are conspiracy theories on whether the pandemic is real or, in fact, brought on us by governments with ulterior motives (that one still baffles me), wondering what will happen to us if we get the virus, worried about families or friends that may be vulnerable, stories of Covid camps camouflaged as glorified concentration camps, personal care homes under siege, a drug that cures but is not being allowed to be used because big pharma wouldn’t make as much money and the list goes on. (I bet that’s the longest sentence you have ever seen)

Why does it seem inherent in many of us to become defensive and angry when presented with an opinion or an idea that we do not agree with? Invariably stress is the result of assumptions. As these assumptions take root we become defensive because we are presented with an unbearable idea, one that, whether we are aware of it or not, makes us unacceptable to ourselves. It feels like an attack on our values, our own wants, needs and fears.

 I have this thing called a Fitbit. At first I thought it would be a great idea to track my exercise, check on my heartbeat, see how many calories I am burning and remind me EVERY HOUR ON THE HOUR that I need to walk. It will vibrate and when I check, it tells me to “feed it”. It’s a constant reminder to do better. It seems that I never measure up so I turned off the notifications. I did not want to be reminded.

Perhaps that is what we need to do with the news, Facebook, Twitter and all other sources that are feeding us. Turn off the notifications. I know, if you don’t keep up you are uninformed. But let me suggest that when you do check every time you get a notification you are misinformed.

A key stress management tool is to recognize when something adds to our mental distress and be proactive of reducing our exposure to that. It simply means to turn off the notifications and cut out a lot of the noise. Be mindful, breath and rest assured that our world will move beyond the pandemic at its own time. In the meantime rise above the noise, be kind to yourself and stay safe. Now go give someone a virtual hug. Make it a good one.

“Virtually” Everything

 

Yikes. Covid numbers keep increasing and more people are dying. What a sobering thing to wake up to. Makes me worried what the future holds for us. What I do know is that the reality of a pandemic will be with us for some time to come meaning the way our lives our different now has become a new norm. For many that new norm has been a life of “virtual” everything.

Yesterday I had a virtual chat with a friend and former colleague. I was somewhat late for chat due to another appointment. When she asked me about the appointment, I said I had been golfing. She looked somewhat confused as she asked whether golf courses were still open. I went on to tell her I had actually golfed St Andrews, a golf course in Scotland. That just deepened her confusion. I had to explain that I had played virtual golf.

Since March, all my work has been done virtually. With the change in weather my favorite pastime now must be done virtually. Seeing our kids and grandkids is done virtually. With what is going on in my wife’s workplace, I suspect our relationship may go virtual. (Not saying anything more about that) This virtual everything is leaving me feeling virtually empty.

To a degree I am thankful for modern technology such as computers and wifi. Can you imagine living through a pandemic, with all the restrictions if we did not have that? I know, at times it is frustrating, but it does allow for a semblance of human connection.

But it does come with some challenges. When I chatted with my therapist about doing my work virtually, she related how therapists had to cut back on their patient load because meeting virtually was much harder on their own mental health. That gave me reason for pause. It made sense. It depletes our emotional gas tank.

In addition to that, confirmed by two conversations I had with others that deal with difficult situations, meeting virtually in our work from home, means we do not have the same ability to debrief after difficult conversations, something that has the ability to replenish our emotional gas tank.

I reflected on my work the day prior to that appointment. I dealt with two mediation files, both with some particular challenges. They both turned out rather well which, in the past, would have provided a certain satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment. Normally it would have energized me but not that day. Instead I switched off my computer, left my office, eyeing my bed on the way by, and plunked myself in front of the TV feeling “meh”.

So, the lesson is clear. We need to be aware of the effect this pandemic, this new virtual everything is having on our own mental health. We need to shift our expectations. And as we do that, we need to find new ways of filling our emotional gas tanks because we know that just the realities and unknowns of Covid, never mind all our other stressors, has the potential of draining those tanks real quick.

Connection is a core human need. So, in a world of virtually everything, we need to find different and unique ways to connect. Instead of shying away from making that phone call or Zoom get together, we have to increase our efforts to ensure connection. We need to be more intentional about staying healthy, both physically and mentally. For now, perhaps, a virtual hug would do it. Now I just have to figure out how to get a virtual haircut. Make it a good one.

What Was I Thinking

 

Recently my wife and I chatted about our uniquely different ways of thinking. We were finishing up with our socially distanced dinner and out of the blue, without any context, she made a comment. I gave her a puzzled look and asked her what she was talking about. To her it was obvious, she was adding more to a story she had told me half an hour before.

She then went on to explain her way of thinking. She compared it to a boat skimming across the water, literally moving rapidly from one spot to another. That made sense to me. Her brain was going at an incredible pace, from one thought to another, never lingering too long, and often circling back.

That got me thinking about my thinking. In keeping with the analogy of water and water vessels I suggested that my thinking was more in the line of a submarine. I come across a thought and do a deep dive. As I dive into the murky waters moving in any direction, other than down, is a slow, tedious process. So I sink into the darkness and conjure up things that border on the ridiculous. In addition, when I do surface, I often can’t remember where I was.

Case in point. In the follow-up to our “thinking” conversation, she asked me what I had been thinking. I gave her a blank stare, said I had no idea, only remembered I had been very angry at someone. So you know, if you’re thinking what I am thinking you probably need help.

Our brains have an innate way of playing tricks on us. (Out of curiosity I looked up the word innate and was surprised to find the following definition; “coming directly from the mind rather than being acquired by experience or from external sources”. That kind of makes my point right there. So instead of writing anything else I could leave it at that. But I won’t)

Over the last weeks, as I was struggling with identifying what could be causing my depressed mood and increased anxiety, I kept telling myself that I needed to change my thinking. I needed to exercise positive thinking, find things I was grateful for (more on that another time). In simple words, get rid of my stinking thinking. But I found that difficult.

Then I was reminded of our “fight or flight” stress response. I read something, somewhere, but can’t find it so I may be making this up. Without going into medical terminology, which I don’t know anyway, and without being to technical let me explain.

Our brains have natural, built in stress responses. So, for example, when you drive down an icy road, the vehicle begins to skid sideways and hitting the ditch is inevitable, a particular part of the brain goes into an aroused state and the stress response kicks in. When the smoke, or in this case snow and ice, clears our brains have the ability to revert back to normal in short order.

However, when a stressor becomes chronic our brain begins to function differently as well. It goes into a heightened state where it is constantly in a fight or flight state. That is when anxiety increases with the potential for a slide into depression. Our behaviors change. We are more likely to become irritated. Physical aches and pains increase. In short we become more reactive to seemingly minor events.

You may be thinking, Friesen, you went through this when you were farming. And you are right, I did. What I have come to understand is that the pandemic we are in has done the same thing to me. It has become a chronic stressor. And as such I need to deal with those stressors no differently than I have in the past. And that is why the appointment with my therapist was crucially important for me. It reminded me of “winning” in the past and provided me the encouragement to win again. Make it a good one.

Another New Chapter

We do live in interesting times and, I suspect, most of us would have various adjectives we could add to that. What started out as something novel, pardon the pun, has become a tedious and, at times, frightening new reality. As winter sets in and a second wave of the pandemic appears to have arrived, certain anxieties set in.

Many felt, and I wrote about it back in May, that they were hitting the wall. Sure, there was some excitement to being at home. Because of my wife working in a high-risk environment and myself being vulnerable to the virus due to certain health issues, we prepared our house so we could live together, separately. It provided for some interesting conversations. That novelty wore off real quick. Particularly when in the last week my office also became my bedroom.

I thought I was doing okay. I had the opportunity to golf which provided for some exercise but also human connection. I kept at my work although it was all done virtually. Because it was summer the deck provided for occasional “socially distanced” get togethers with friends and family. 

Through time I noticed that my mood seemed to go downhill. There was an increase of anxiety. My writing had stopped. It seemed that any task, large or small, gave me anxiety. 

But I was okay, at least so I thought. Then when the weather turned cold and the closing of the golf course was inevitable, I came face to face with the reality that I would need to reset, begin to take back control of my mental health. In essence, start a new chapter. 

In spite of being fully aware of my downward slide, I was resistant to being proactive. I allowed myself to fall into a state of mind that had the potential to not end well. I made a few attempts to determine what was going on but could not really identify the issues, so I let it be. Things that had often dragged me down in the past were of no concern. 

A few weeks ago, I came face to face with an increasing anxiety and felt myself slipping into depression. I hated it. I knew something had to be done. So, with the encouragement of my wife I made an appointment with my naturopath, who I now refer to as my therapist. 

I felt somewhat silly going to see her. I knew all too well the tools I needed to recover from what was ailing me. I also knew all too well that I had those tools. But off I went. 

We chatted about the new reality of meeting with clients virtually, avoiding shopping, not going out to eat, and seldom, if ever getting together with friends. We talked about the unknowns, what this winter might look like. 

And then she connected some more dots for me, she really is good at that. She provided insight as to why this downward spiral might be somewhat different than others. She reminded me of “tools” that had worked in the past, ones I had been neglecting. She mentioned use of my SAD lamp. She talked about exercise. She asked about my protein intake. She reminded me of how writing is helpful. 

I left that appointment with a certain relief, having identified some new issues that were draining my emotional gas tank but also reminding me of my power within to recover. As much as I had felt my mental health deteriorating, I did nothing about it. Hoped I would wake up the next day and all would be well. Unfortunately, that does not work for me. I need to be proactive in taking care of myself. So here goes. A new chapter, again. In the coming weeks I will share more about what I have learned. Till then, make it a good one.

The Rest of the Story

“Good LORD, that was one of the most grotesque journeys I have ever chosen to follow to the end. Is it over? I hope it's over. My heart and stomach go out to you.”

I found this comment on my FB page this morning, written by my niece. I have not laughed that hard, at 6:30 in the morning, for a very long time, if ever.

Yesterday I had my follow-up appointment with the doctor. He looked in my eye and seemed pleased with what he saw. Instant relief washed over me as he said that surgery would not be required, all that was required was a touch up with his laser.

I have a hunch that he rather enjoys the “lasering” part of his job. When he started pulling the trigger on his laser it reminded me of my two year old grandson when he plays a video game. Any semblance of shooting certain targets seem to disappear, just hold down the trigger and enjoy. The only thing missing were the sound effects. I did survive and it was better than surgery.

After I posted about my experience, I found myself somewhat puzzled why I would write what I did. Partially it may have been because I felt that others might enjoy the descriptive narrative of my experience. Perhaps it was to find some humour in the pain I was feeling. And maybe, just maybe, I might find some therapeutic value in writing about it.

As I wrote what I did, I also felt that I was putting something out there that was minor compared to the challenges that many others are facing. A family member who is fighting a losing battle with cancer, friends who are experiencing relational challenges, a relative who is dealing with the death of her husband due to Covid 19, friends that have lost jobs for all the wrong reasons, friends who have and are experiencing health issues that have kept them from enjoying life for much longer than the week or two that I am experiencing.

What I did learn from this experience is the importance of supporting others. I truly appreciated the messages of support I received through emails, text messages, comments on FB and phone calls. Although that was not what I was looking for, it helped me get through the last 10 days.

It reminded me to be less consumed with my own issues and more open to supporting others. It reminded me how a few words of encouragement can be so helpful. It reminded me that even if I feel alone, I am not. It reminded me of the importance to check in with others. It also reminded me of how much pain something as small as a needle can cause.

As the gas bubble in my eye slowly dissipates I am looking forward to getting back at it. Yesterday I sent an email to my golfing partners informing them of my imminent return. Although they seemed pleased with my prognosis they appeared hesitant to have me back under the guise of not wanting me to jeopardize my eye. I suspect as long as I am not there they take turns winning and know that when I come back, winning won’t be as easy for them. But I will be back and for that I am grateful. Make it a good one.

“I appreciate people checking up on me. I appreciate a quick message. I appreciate those who ask if I’m okay. I appreciate every single person in my life who has tried to brighten my days. It’s the little things that matter the most.” Unknown⠀

One Eye Blind

I find myself flat on my back at the eye doctor. My eyes are frantically flitting from side to side as the doctor and his assistant prepare for the procedure. I try not to think about what is about to happen to me. But then he reaches across my face and grabs a needle. I see the needle come closer to my eye. I hear him tell me it may sting a little. You think? You’re about to stick a needle in my eye and it may sting?

With some loosening of restrictions, my wife and I went on a ride with our convertible on a warm, sunny Saturday. When we got home that evening I noticed a shadow pop up in my eye every time I blinked. I had a sinking feeling as I realized that I was probably dealing with a detached retina.

12 years ago I experienced a detached retina. As I have done with other challenges in life, including my mental health issues, I kind of jump in to accept the challenge being totally unaware of the consequences. And soon find out that the journey can be quite difficult.

Back then I had surgery on my left eye. Quite frankly, the surgery isn’t that bad. But, then again, I am asleep so don’t really notice. It’s the week or two after that may well have me needing therapy, both physical and mental, for years to come.

After the initial needle, which I found out was “a touch of freezing”, the doctor leaves the room only to come back in a few minutes with a much larger needle. He then asks me to train my eye on his shoulder and try to lie very still as he pushes the larger needle into my eye. He reassures me that it might be a little uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? You think? As the needle enters my eye, the eye moves each time his hand moves, throwing it out of sync with the other eye. Quite literally one eye was looking at him and the other eye was looking for him.

The last step of a retinal detachment surgery is to fill the eye ball with a gas bubble. You then spend the next week or two lying flat on your stomach which, supposedly, keeps the bubble pushing up against the retina as it heals.

If you are still with me I challenge you to go lay on your stomach, facing downward, to see how long you can hold out. It has to be the most uncomfortable position to hold for a few minutes, never mind a week.

I have read enough books and watched enough shows where people get tortured for whatever reason. I think pulling finger nails, waterboarding, electric shock treatments and sundry other methods could be done away with. Strap me to a board, on my stomach, facing downward and I would snap like a dry twig, give up more information than needed within an hour, maximum two.

Numerous decades ago we put a man on the moon, last week we saw the lift off of a rocket headed to the space station, hurtling through space at 25,000 kms/hr. and hooking up with the space station traveling at the same speed, with nary an issue. We have technology like autonomous vehicles, GPS, and computers that can perform tasks no human ever could. But for some strange reason we can’t seem to find a humane way to recover from retinal detachment surgery.

He tells me that the sound will be worse than the pain. I can’t even describe it using proper English without the use of numerous four letter words. The worst is that I can see all of this happening inside of my eye. I see the liquid in my eye start disappearing and being replaced by a blue gas. The sound I hear is similar to the sound of someone trying to slurp the last milkshake out of a glass with a straw. I may never be the same.

The retinal detachment I had 12 years ago came with some complications. It ended up being three surgeries and when all was said and done I had reduced vision in that eye. Through the years I have had cataract surgery, laser surgery, retinal detachment surgery and now have to use eye drops on a daily basis for glaucoma. So I am kind of used to having my eyes poked and prodded. But lying on my stomach? I cannot get used to that.

After he has sucked out the liquid and successfully filled my eye with gas he tells me to come back and see him in three days. With any luck, and he tells me there is a 50/50 chance of this working, the retina will have flattened and then he can spot weld, his words, the rupture with a laser and all will be good. If not we will need to do surgery.

Three days later I find myself in a small room. The sign on the door warns people that there is a laser in use. He plants my face up against a harness and tells me to hold still. He then fixes a magnifying glass between my eyelids, shines a bright light into my eye and calmly says I probably won’t like him much after he is done. He lines up a laser and the fun begins. I see a yellow light flashing and then a noise as he pulls the trigger and pain hits. He asks me if I am okay but all I can do is moan. I guess that tells him I am doing just fine because another jolt hits. Somewhere around the fifth one I lose count.

When he finishes he tells me to go home and keep my head down for another four days. What scares me most is his final words. He may have to do surgery after all. I stare at him in a dumbfounded way. But he is busy, he needs to move on to the next patient. He tells me there is an epidemic of detachments happening. So I am left to wait and wonder. Not sure I am physically or mentally ready for another round of torture. But what do I know.

I do wonder why this couldn’t have happened a few months ago. After all I was isolating at home because of Covid 19. But no, just as restrictions were being lifted, just as I was getting into the swing of things (pun intended) with my golf game, my life changes direction. I know things could be worse but let me, just for a fleeting moment, wallow in a touch of self-pity. I will survive. I will be back on the course soon. As best possible, I am making it a good one.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel grateful in this moment, even if you know you have a lot to be grateful for. Let yourself feel whatever you feel. It will be a lot easier to focus on your blessings after you let the pain run through you.” Lori Deschene

My Rear View Mirror

I had an epiphany this week. In fact I may call it a vision. Perhaps you are thinking I am headed over the abyss, that I have officially lost it. If so, I have some golfing buddies who may well agree with you.

I received an email from someone who was clearly frustrated, feeling hopeless because of life experiences and thinking his life had been a total waste. He felt that as much as he had tried, given his all, it had all been for naught.

I felt somewhat lost as to how I could help. In essence I could listen, normalize and validate his feelings. I could put on my counselling hat and try to help him through his struggles. Another option was to let him know that what he was feeling was not reality and that he needed to buck up, quit feeling sorry for himself, and move on.

But part of me also deeply understood what he was experiencing. In my darkest days I have reflected on my journey and also felt that many years were wasted. Then feelings of regret take over and I play the woulda, shoulda, coulda game.

Shortly after talking with him I came across a quote that provided the epiphany. The quote went as follows; “Don’t stumble over something behind you”. For a fleeting moment I had a vision. Looking back I saw a picture of devastation. It looked messy. But when I looked ahead I saw a clear path, the sun was shining, the grass was green, it looked tranquil.

It passed relatively quickly but it got me thinking, thinking about recovering. I remembered the definition of “recover”. It means to return to a previous state of health, prosperity and equanimity. Sometime ago I had a conversation with a friend and asked her for her definition. (My apologies to her, I am using this without her permission) “I would say that a recovering farmer is someone who worked tirelessly through blood, sweat, and tears to produce nourishment for the world in spite of the fact that neither markets, nor individuals, pay tribute to their toil. To recover from farming is to let go of all one’s losses…..while not forgetting their contributions.”

Although that is in the context of farming I believe it also holds true for other areas of life. I know for myself I particularly appreciate the last part of her definition. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of letting go of losses but never forgetting our contributions.

Let me use another analogy. The rear view mirror on my car is small. How successful are we in moving forward if we only look at that small mirror? Even the warning “objects maybe be closer than they appear” holds some truth. Sometimes the past seems to be sneaking up on us and come close enough to create worry but ultimately need not be a problem, unless we are backing up. However when we look forward we have a significantly larger view through the windshield.

To keep moving forward use the windshield, accept the future for all it has to offer. We may fail and we may think we wasted part or all of our life. Use the understanding and knowledge of the failure to build a foundation from which you can grow and flourish and maintain perspective. The key is not to be spooked by failure but rather to have a willingness to fail again, because if we don’t take risks, if we don’t step outside of our comfort zone, we will not become better. And, most important of all, we must forgive ourselves for our failures. Without forgiveness we will continue to beat ourselves up which inevitably will lead to more failures. Make it a good one.

“Scars remind us of where we have been but don’t have to dictate where we are going.” Joe Mantegna