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Corona Diaries: My Re-Discovery of Meaning

The incoming, unpredictable tides shift the sandy grains of my mind. One moment I'm feeling as if I can do this, and a few moments later it's as if the shutdown shutting me down.

Such is my daily grind in recent weeks. I haven't felt like writing, and the creative juices have tasted mostly bitter, if even present at all.

I have had to mind my mood, but most days it feels like my mood is minding me. It's temperamental and petulant, impulsive and unpredictable. Just when I feel like I'm getting a grip, a wave of je ne sais quoi hits me and the relentless tide is pulling me out to stormy seas. And trust me, these seas are rough.

I wonder why I can't get a hold of myself, why I can't navigate these waters. After all, I understand mental health. I have fairly good coping skills and decent spiritual practices. I have dedicated most of my life to helping others navigate difficult times. So why can't I tame these lions roaring in my soul?

I am fairly convinced these lions don't want to be tamed. They prefer to roam my inner savanna, preying on my emotional vulnerability, devouring any mental stability.

Fifty-seven days into stay-at-home I'm basically just as mystified by this experience as I was at the beginning. What is going on? I ask myself. I feel frustrated and cantankerous--and this is on the better days. On the bad ones, keep your distance!

I've self-diagnosed myself with Pandemic Personality Disorder. I'm not sure who I am when I wake up or what day it is.  (To be clear, I lost the day of the week around Day 11, and I'm pretty sure, my solid sense of self around Day 18.)

One's interior world can be a dicey game. It takes exceptional coping skills to bounce back from the barrage of daily Twitter tirades, Facebook rants, media spin, and the mindless malaise that consumes most our days.

Mainly, we've lost our markers. We've lost our syncopated rhythm of life.  We can't gather for holidays, birthday celebrations, dinner parties, religious services, or nights-out-on-the-town. This loss of meaningful interactions is causing our souls to wander and wane.

Interiority longs for meaning, and the normal rites and rituals that produce meaning have been stripped of us. So we feel a profound loss, even though we can't always readily identify exactly what that loss is.

Psychologists call this ambiguous loss, the loss that occurs when we are denied a normal sense of ending, closure or resolve. We search for answers, and they are denied us. The longing and searching that results from ambiguous loss make us very, very weary.

The Irish poet John O'Donohue writes, When weariness becomes gravity, it destroys your natural soul protection. He says we become like Sisyphus of the underworld: condemned to an eternity of rolling the huge boulder up the hill, only to have it slip and come crashing back down, then doomed to repeat it again.

This weight of weariness has chipped against our natural soul protection. That's a big part of what we are feeling. We've lost some of our soul armor. It's been chipped away as the days melt into weeks, the weeks melt into months.

So I've set out to combat said weariness and fortify the walls of my inner castle. I've been giving back where I can: donating to food banks, delivering hot meals to shut-ins, and providing telephonic support to elders who are isolated home alone.

I am meditating more--sometimes with music, other times with a guided podcast.  I'm finishing the stack of unread books on the nightstand that have been beckoning the last year. I continue checking in with family and friends in urban as well as rural areas, because those in the heartland increasingly realize that what has faced us in NYC may now be lying in wait at their doorstep.

All this provides me meaning and the unexpected benefit of getting me out of my head.

In short, I've decided to make myself available--more available for service, support, and hopefully, some substance. Perhaps unlike Sisyphus, I can choose to not push that boulder up the hill. I can put down the weight of weariness by doing something different, creating meaningful moments on days threatened by meaningless. 

Today I awoke with the usual existential dread, but it rolled away as I moved about. Life wasn't as heavy as it was the day before. It awakened with new meaning.

Anxiety in the Age of Corona

The chest tightness triggers anxiety, and the anxiety increases the chest tightness. Spring allergies trigger asthma which triggers sneezing which triggers more anxiety and irrational fears of infection. And so it goes.

Five weeks of stay-at-home and an extension through mid-May does little to alleviate the anxiety, as well as the guilt about my anxiety. I begin to feel like I should be stronger or not feel claustrophobic or be more thankful for how good I have it. I feel that I am in some way weak or ungrateful because I'm not doing this pandemic-thing perfectly.

Well child, none of us are.

Psychologists call this meta-emotion. It's when you feel emotion about your emotion. There's lots of that going around these days. We feel feelings about our feelings. It's layered and nuanced, interconnected and complex. It can be explained on a psychological level, but that certainly doesn't alleviate the unpleasantness.

So I've been working on moving through the feelings, letting them pass over me or me pass through them, whichever makes the most sense in that moment. And I've been working on not judging myself for feeling what I feel. As a friend reminded me last night, Be gentle with yourself.

I needed to get out of my head--get out of my apartment really--so I volunteered. I signed up online and hopped on a mostly empty subway train towards downtown. Approximately twelve volunteers gathered in the Anna Wintour Volunteer Center at God's Love We Deliver. All of us kept our distance from one another, wearing masks, heads buried in our phones, afraid to make too much eye contact because, who really knows how this virus spreads?

We were divided into two groups for meal deliveries to New Yorkers who can't get out to get food on their own. Most people went with the 72nd Street bound volunteers. I grouped with the 42nd Street crew because I knew I could walk home after and avoid the train.

The bags of food were bigger than we expected. We organized the meals with the assigned addresses and one of my delivery partners said in a shaky voice, "I can't take the train." 

But with such weighty bags, it was apparent we would have to. So I helped route our path to get us as quickly as possible to Times Square on the E Train. It would take only about 12 minutes. 

One volunteer had walked 90 minutes from Brooklyn to avoid taking the subway. So getting on this train was going to be a remarkable leap of faith for him. 

But leap on the train we did. We distanced in the middle of the car while a couple of homeless people slept on the other end. One awoke and began to cough violently. You could see the sputum spray through the air to the other side of the car.

One in my group fled to the opposite end of the car, a wild look of terror in his eyes. Our eyes met, and no explanation was needed. He clearly did not want to be infected.  When we got off the train, I assured him we would be above ground very soon.

And then it began.

As we trekked through the long underground corridor, people began to approach us. We were no speedy Meals on Wheels, slogging these clear, plastic bags of food. So it was easy for people to catch up to us.

People asked where we got the food or if they could have some of what we had. One man said he didn't want food, only a warm coat, as it was a cold spring day.

Years earlier I had learned to discern the look of hunger in a person's eyes, through my many experiences in Haiti. When you look deeply into the eyes of someone who is genuinely hungry, you sense both humility and desperation.

On any normal day in New York City, most people begging on the streets are fairly sophisticated in their approach. They hold signs with funny quips or emotional pleas, which often are enough to open the wallets of passing tourists.

These people on this very un-normal day were not that way. There were no clever signs. They carried the recognizable look of desperation, and I knew the hunger and need were genuine. For hunger is the same whether traversing subterranean tunnels of New York City or the back bushes of Haiti.

I delivered my meals, hanging the bag on the doorknob, knocking loud, then backing up six feet. "This is God's Love," we were told to announce to the recipients. If there is such a thing as God's Love, surely it looks like this: human hands serving another human in time of need.

I ventured back towards Time Square and stopped at a friend's locally-owned coffeeshop. I ordered a latte and an additional hot coffee for the cold, homeless man out front, as the barista verified that he was in genuine need.

But I am not so certain his genuineness or lack thereof really matters. Everyone seems to carry a degree of desperation these days, whether a hunger in the belly or a hunger in the soul. Freely giving a hot coffee on a cold day says more about the heart condition of the benefactor than it does the supplicant. For freely we have received, freely we give.

As I walked through an empty Times Square during lunch hour, my senses were once again assaulted by the grim, apocalyptic cityscape that typifies this city these days. My chest was still tight but not quite as anxious, and my emotional state ceased to matter as much as it had before.

 

My Experience from the Epicenter

The silence day and night is really only punctuated by the intermittent sound of sirens passing by on Sixth Avenue below. Normally the noise of traffic is so loud it penetrates the re-enforced windows of the apartment. But not the last few weeks.

I also now notice the church bells a few blocks away. They toll on the hour, and on any other day I wouldn't hear them. But now they have become to me a regular reminder to still my soul, silence my mind, and go to that place in my spirit where I find solace.

The streets are eerily quiet, like the photo I took from my balcony mid-afternoon today. When I do go out for groceries, I avoid the few people I see on the street. The only people who do approach me are the homeless or mentally ill who seem more desperate now than in non-pandemic times.

I haven't wanted to put anything in writing about what it's like to live in the heart of Midtown Manhattan in the current epicenter of the pandemic. It feels insensitive and narcissistic to share my experience when I don't know anyone personally who has passed away. Yet.

It's really just a matter of time, I suppose.

So I measure my words, manage my emotion, and stay as focused as possible throughout the day. And I pen these thoughts right now because so many lovely friends and family from across the world have checked in wanting to know how I am doing.

Yesterday I did a mental tally of the people I know personally who have gotten the virus. I stopped counting because it was too overwhelming. There were just too many.

It's likely many more of us--myself included--have been exposed and resolved with little symptoms. At least that's what I hope for. 

My social media feed is filled with accounts of friends and acquaintances who are suffering immeasurably. In between those talking about their own illness--or their friend who died-are the reports of healthcare workers, most of whom I know personally. They share their experiences of vulnerability and courage of being on the front line, working to save lives, fighting for us all. 

As of Thursday, it's been 21 days stay-at-home for me. And while I would like to say this has gotten easier, it really hasn't. The pathos is great. My heart is heavy.

It feels a little like the movie Groundhog Day. Not working takes away the normal markers so that weekdays flow into weekends. I've forgotten the day of the week more than once.

But, this is not Groundhog Day. This is real life. This is the new normal--at least for a few more weeks to come.

I try to stay consistent with my spiritual practice. That is what grounds me. It's where I find my strength to not give into the dark abyss of fear and uncertainty.

When I silence the chatter of my mind, it's as if I can then feel the pain of those suffering throughout NYC. So I breathe in and out, trusting my sighs are sacred and might somehow carry peace and healing to others in need.

The virus teaches me how very much connected the whole world really is.  We are all in this together. No woman or man is an island, even though we practice social distancing and maintain two meters apart.

At this time I'm not overly worried about Ian or myself. He is doing an amazing job in the medical response at Bellevue, fighting this demon on the front line. He is an American hero. An evening doesn't go by that we don't shed some tears when processing our day. We weep for ourselves, for our friends, and for our city. We weep as well for the sick, the suffering, and the dying.

I am mostly concerned about my friends and family across the country, especially in states and regions where the government hasn't responded early enough. I am not convinced that everyone realizes how overwhelming this thing is. And I want them to be prepared for the coming tsunami.

Having said that, I am not sure you can really ever be fully prepared. You say a prayer, take a deep breath, and then go and do your very best.

This is what my Grandpa Benz meant when he would say, "Put legs to your prayers." The Great Depression and World War II taught his generation how to do that. I hope we can learn how to as well.

During this time, I remind myself of my deeply held values, foremost, that all life is sacred and connected. And it is the responsibility of those in positions of authority to enact measures to protect the vulnerable in our society, especially in times of pandemic and national crisis.

It disturbs me when I see this not happening.

I'm angry because some parts of federal and local governments did not do their part early enough to heed the words of scientists, medical doctors, and public health officials who were sounding the alarm.

I'm disgusted that many people were posting online that the mainstream media was sensationalizing the threat.

I'm alarmed that people minimize what is now upon us and compare this to the flu. This is not the flu. 

I'm sad that those sick in hospital can't see the compassionate faces of their care givers due to protective masks.

I'm overwhelmed at the thought that people are dying alone without their loved ones by their side.

I'm shocked that some people can't even go to the morgue to touch their deceased loved one and say goodbye.

I'm beside myself that pastors are holding church services in the name of religious freedom when in reality the are placing people in harm's way. These snake oil salesman misrepresent God and profiteer off their congregations. They abdicate the high calling on their lives.

I'm undone because none of this should be this way. It shouldn't be happening here. But it is.

I trust that as a nation we will take a long moral inventory when this is over and make changes. Because after this, everything must change.

I also humbly recognize that my strong emotion will not change things. For now, it only serves to tie me up in knots of angst and anxiety.

So I choose to let it go and refrain from engaging in online arguments. People often speak from a place of fear, ignorance, or invincibility. It is not my job to correct those with whom I do not have ongoing relationship. Thank goodness for that!

My emotional energy is better served in building up those around me, encouraging those who are in fear, and connecting with those who feel so very alone. 

It's as Governor Cuomo said a few days ago, we need partnership over partisanship.

Because the new patriots are agents of healing, not agents of war.

So I gather together the distressed parts of my soul and remind myself, this is hard but we are in this together. We are not alone.

I lift my gaze and shore up my optimism that we will get through this.

I count my blessings.

I make my gratitude list.

I check in with friends and family.

I choose to be gentle with myself and show compassion to the weak.

I look for the helpers.

When I hear about someone who has died, I say their name out loud, giving witness to the Universe that this person's life matters and they did not die in vain.

And I as hear the screeching of sirens and the tolling of bells, I allow this experience to work something within me greater and deeper than I have experienced before. 

 

 

 

A New Role For Me in 2019 with Origins Behavioral Healthcare

I begin this year with a new role that I'm quite excited to share about. I am now working with Origins Behavioral Healthcare as their Professional Relations Officer based in New York City.

Origins has outstanding treatment options in tropical settings in Florida and Texas for people with substance use issues. One of their premier centers is Hanley Center, where I began my clinical career ten years ago.

I am thrilled to return to work with consummate professionals at Hanley Center (West Palm Beach), HeadWaters (Singer Island), Transitions (West Palm Beach), Hannah's House (South Padre Island), and Origins Recovery Center (South Padre Island). And to clarify, I still live and work in NYC--I just will be in FL and TX a bit more often!

Origins' clinical staff consists of medical doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, nursing staff, licensed therapists, and recovery advocates. Attention is given to healing the whole person through meeting medical, clinical, and spiritual needs. 

If you, a friend, or loved one are in need of treatment for substance use or co-occurring mental health disorders, please reach out. I am happy to help you locate a provider who would suit your individual needs. Or if it's been a while since we've touched base, please send a hello.

It feels very satisfying to be working nationally in the behavioral healthcare field again with professionals of high clinical stature, expertise, and experience. I am enjoying reconnecting with former colleagues and meeting new ones across the country.

2019 is already proving to be a rewarding year of fulfillment and increase. I wish the same for you. Happy New Year!

What do I do when my friend or loved one refuses help?

“My sister will not seek treatment. What kinds of things can my family and I do or say that will help and not hurt?”

This is the question that came to me this past spring at the Faith Communities and Mental Health conference in Chapel Hill, NC.

Chances are that we all know someone who may be in need of professional help but for whatever reason isn’t ready for it.

It’s a tough spot to be in:

• Watching a loved one in the depths of depression and not knowing how to pull them out.
• Standing by with feelings of helplessness when mom can’t stop downing the chardonnay every night until she passes out.
• Feeling like you may lose your own mind when your teenager's manic episode won’t subside and you just can’t seem to back him off the emotional ledge.

How do we respond to those who are suffering without making things worse and making ourselves feel even crazier in the process?

Find a place of empathy. Empathy does not mean that we have been exactly where the other person is. It does however mean that we can identify on some level with the emotion that the person is feeling. I’ve often found it helpful to say, “I’ve not experienced what you are going through exactly but I do know what it feels like to be helpless/distressed/depressed/etc. and yeah, it sucks.” Oftentimes, identifying with the emotion is an empathetic response that will allow the person to feel not so alone.

Don’t be quick to offer advice. No one likes to be lectured to. Starting a conversation with, “you need therapy” or “why don’t you just get out of bed?” will probably only serve to alienate the person even more. We all want to feel supported, not ostracized or blamed for our current situation.

Offer solutions that can be received. Sometimes, the best that a person can do is make a very small step. That might look like investigating a support group or therapist online with no commitment of going. It also might look like trying to get out of bed a little sooner than what she has been. Or it could be just being open to research a holistic therapy or non-narcotic medication that might alleviate symptoms and stabilize the person until they can make the next step.

Finally, love unconditionally. Love is more oftentimes something we do than something we say. Sitting in silence with another person can be deeply healing the other person. Just being present and available to meet our loved one where they are can go a long way.

All of the above will look different for each person based on their situation and need. So when in doubt, check in with a professional or trusted expert who can give further guidance.

But by all means, check in. Let your loved one that as cliché as it may sound, “this too shall pass.”  Healing and recovery are possible with time and consistent support. 

Hold a space of hope for those in your life. One of the most powerful things a friend ever said to me was, “I know you can’t believe for yourself right now, but you don’t have to. I’ll believe for you until you are at a place when you can do so for yourself.” Those words took the pressure off and allowed me to just "be", until I could believe and act for myself. The same is possible for you and your loved one too.

What to Say to People with Mental Health or Substance Use Disorders

A friend recently called saying that she had just learned her close friend had been sent to treatment by her husband. She was overwhelmed and had no idea her friend had been battling anxiety, depression, and too much drink. She asked, what should I say to my friend in light of what is happening?

Here's a thoughtful approach of what what to say to people with mental health or substance use disorders:

1. You have been made for so much more life and love than what your battles have taught you to expect for yourself.
2. You are loved just as you are, regardless of what you’ve done, are doing, or will do.
3. You can forgive yourself. Where you are able, you can make amends to the people you have wronged without causing further harm to them or yourself.
4. You can let go of what you cannot control or change. Tomorrow is a new day.
5. Welcome! I want you here in my life. You are stuck with me!
6. Tell me your story. Where is there pain in it? Where is a thread of redemption in it? (Then, listen to their story.)
7. You have an illness, a disease, a very real struggle. I want you to find recovery and healing. I will walk with you every step of the way-- and not just on the good days.

When we go through difficult times, knowing we are not alone can make all the difference. These simple but profound statements can help.

  Adapted from The Recovery Minded Church (c) Jonathan Benz, 2016.

How do I find good therapist?

“How do I navigate the troubled road of finding an appropriate therapist? I’ve had many bad ones."

"I went therapist shopping recently. I went though five before I found the one I liked. Now I go weekly. It's one of the best decisions I've ever made."

These are two comments that were made to me recently. It seems these difficult, divisive times in our country are causing more people to reach out for psycho-emotional support. 

Sometimes life is too hard to go it alone. Reaching out for help indeed can make a difference.

Once someone has agreed to get help, the next logical step is to find someone who can be helpful. This can be more easily said than done. I, for one, stayed with a clinician for several years—not because she was particularly phenomenal at what she did—but because we had decent rapport, I knew what to expect, and my insurance covered most of it.

Now money is not necessarily the reason to stick with a therapist, but finances certainly play a key role. I know many of the best therapists and counselors now only charge cash fees because insurance reimbursements are not as profitable. Ask if they work on a “sliding scale”. Many are willing to negotiate, especially if they need the business at the moment.

So what are some helpful tools for finding a therapist, counselor, or clinician?

1. Ask around. Generally, you will find out right away who is not good. Bad reputations travel quickly. Having an idea of what you need support for (bereavement, substance use, depression, anxiety, relationship issues, etc.) will guide your process. Find a counselor who specializes in the area that you need help.
2. If you have health insurance, contact your insurance provider. You can often find a listing of clinicians in your area. You also can confirm how much counseling your policy will cover and what your copay will be.
3. Check with civic organizations, churches, synagogues, or community centers. Many such organizations have counselors on staff that carry various levels of credentialing and specialization. These services can be free or low-cost for constituents. This is a great alternative when finances are limited. If you do opt for faith-based counseling, just make sure that the organization you connect with actually syncs with your core values and beliefs.
4. Call your local hospital or medical center. Many have outpatient clinics with psychiatrists or social workers. Many also have short-term programs running 4-12 weeks.
5. Consider a support group. A support group can be a nice alternative to individual counseling as you are hearing the stories of others who have come through what you are currently experiencing. These support groups are usually free or sometimes pass a basket for a small, voluntary donation. Try your local chapters of NAMI, AA, NA, Alanon, Codependents Anonymous, or PFLAG. Give the group at least three tries before giving up. It usually takes that many visits to see the true value of the meeting.

Once you find the right person to help you, check their credentials. Social workers, psychologists, and licensed/certified therapists are required to post their credentials. You can usually Google them to find out if their credentials are current in your state of residence or if there are any pending actions against them.

There’s no silver bullet for finding the right person to help you. But I do know that it requires more than one visit to the same person. Healing always takes place in the context of relationship. Developing rapport with a qualified individual takes time. But it makes healing and recovery possible.

Responding to Mental Health Crises in Our Lives and the Lives of Others

This spring I was keynote speaker at a conference in Chapel Hill, NC called “Cultivating Mental Health: Hope and Healing”. It was one of the highlights of my speaking career. The conference was filled with several hundred mental health professionals from the Research Triangle who were keen on offering clinical, therapeutic, and spiritual responses to the challenges facing their clients and patients.

Since returning to NYC, I have been deeply saddened to learn of the suicides of Kate Spade followed by  Anthony Bourdain. These high profile deaths have raised the issue of mental health front-and-center once again. It seems that for some people, success, wealth or fame are not enough to fill the proverbial “hole in the soul”.

I’ve been pleased to see many responding to these suicides with great empathy. But still, many myths persist around mental health issues. In American society we seem to think that if one is strong enough, good-looking enough, wealthy enough, or successful enough, then deep-seated emotional needs somehow vanish away.

If we are honest with ourselves, we know this is not the case. If you could see the full reality of people's lives, you might discover some deep-seated unhappiness behind the seemingly bright and cheery Facebook or Instagram profiles.

So we self-medicate. We engage in behaviors that may be healthy in moderation but very unhealthy in excess. 

We shop and run up our credit cards.

We drink too much because “one more can’t hurt”.

We pop an extra pill to numb the pain.

We jump from anonymous sexual partner to the next.

We lose ourselves and our sense of time in Netflix or apps on our iPhone.

We escape into religiosity, afraid our own negative emotions will betray a serene exterior.

We become a workaholic to avoid the tough relationship issues that we aren’t ready to face.

When all of the above doesn’t work we attempt to satiate the unmet existential angst with any number of other compulsive behaviors. Whether we shop, go for drinks, take a substance, or jump from hook-up to the next, these measures are not enough to bring the peace and fulfillment we desperately long for.

So what are we to do then?

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to blog on some specific topics that have come up in recent weeks-both from the conference in NC as well as from conversations with friends and family members.

But for today I’ll end this post with this:

If you think a friend or loved one seems unusually down or not herself, don’t wait for her to reach out. Most people who are in the throes of depression or anxiety do not have the wherewithal to advocate for themselves.

Pick up the phone. Call, text, or email. It only takes a moment to say “Hey, you were on my mind, how are you doing?” That check-in lets the other person know she or he is not alone and most importantly, doesn't have to go it alone anymore.

Who knows? You might even save a life in the process.

If you need to speak to someone now, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline anytime, 24/7, to speak to a professional who can help: 1-800-273-8255.

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