I spent most of last weekend in bed, in tears. The weight of everything happening in the world paired with the draining nature of isolation on my insatiable extroversion had compounded in my spirit and I was able to do little more than lay still and allow the tears to leak from my eyes. I mustered up just enough energy to check the boxes on Easter activities with my children, but little more beyond that.
There were warning signs throughout the week leading into this crash, signs I was happy to ignore. My time spent scrolling social media had significantly increased. The quantity of sugar I was consuming had spiked. I often found myself scouring the internet for something to buy, not because I needed anything, but because it might make me feel better, even if for just a minute. After nearly a year of healthy eating and avoiding dairy (which doesn’t agree at all with me), I ordered and devoured a pizza for dinner, come what may. I wasn’t falling asleep easily and I wasn’t sleeping through the night.
The thing I’ve learned about myself over the years, particularly from studying the Enneagram, is that more often than not, I’m not consciously aware I’m in emotional pain or that my mental health is poor until there’s a critical failure, an epic crash.
I have to watch for the signs, the dysfunctional behaviors I’m prone towards, and read the symptoms in order to ask myself the question: What is wrong?
In most cases, I’m quick to stop myself soon after noticing a pattern of distraction aimed at self-numbing and spend some time bringing my awareness to the source of pain. Last week, however, I noticed and promptly ignored what was going on, allowing myself to anesthetize with Easter candy and greasy food in hopes that maybe this time filling my belly would resolve what was really eating at me.
Colleen Cook works full-time as the Director of Operations at Vinyl Marketing in Ashland, where she resides with her husband Mike and three young daughters. She’s an insatiable extrovert who enjoys finding reasons to gather people.
But here’s the thing: self-soothing brings no resolution, it only delays the impact. And often, by delaying, the impact is much worse as pain and stress compound.
So, this weekend when it all came to a head, I did what I should have done days earlier. I cried, hard. I reached out to my inner circle of trusted people for help. I ate nutritiously and drank plenty of water. I went for a run and practiced gentle yoga. I found safe ways to socialize with people. I lamented to God and read my Bible. I meditated. I breathed through the pain.
And, I started to feel better. I could sleep again. My mood lightened and my energy started to return. I found the stamina to jump back into life, and I started to smile and laugh.
We’re living in a season of collective grief. So, while I realize that a few days of sadness does not a depression make, a few good days do not indicate that all is well. In fact, as I write this, I’m achingly aware that I need to be more intentional today about taking some space to get quiet and listen to the spirit within me and process what it is I’m feeling right now.
Managing our stress and fear head on takes resilience and intentionality, and we might not always have the space in each day to face it head on, particularly if we’re juggling new responsibilities as we shelter in place. But, let this be an encouragement to you: find time as often as you can to check in with yourself, get quiet, treat your body kindly and breathe through the pain. And, if you find you’re doing alright, then check in with someone you love, because they might just need someone else to ask them, “How are you doing, really?”
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