The 'New' Normal Post-Covid - Are YOU Ready?

If you put a frog in boiling water, it will jump out. If you put a frog in tepid water and slowly raise the heat, it will boil to death. - Unknown

Photo Credit: Nick Fewings

Covid-19 has been raising the heat on all of us for a year. Stress, depression and anxiety have paralyzed millions. Personally, I've battled all three. As someone who lived much of my life in a state of chronic stress, I very quickly became that frog again and didn't realize it until I was almost ready to be served as an appetizer. I was sleeping either too much or too little, watching the same ten pounds turn my bathroom scale into a seesaw, and despite having almost twenty years of teaching experience under my belt, there were days when I just burst into tears because virtual teaching is just. so. hard. Even though I had Covid-19 and its accompanying brain fog, I've also had what Ellen Cushing, writing in The Atlantic, calls the Covid "fog of forgetting" that has crept into our brains simply from living in quasi-isolation for so long:

Everywhere I turn, the fog of forgetting has crept in. A friend of mine recently confessed that the morning routine he’d comfortably maintained for a decade—wake up before 7, shower, dress, get on the subway—now feels unimaginable on a literal level: He cannot put himself back there. Another has forgotten how to tie a tie. A co-worker isn’t sure her toddler remembers what it’s like to go shopping in a store... 

“We’re all walking around with some mild cognitive impairment,” said Mike Yassa, a neuroscientist at UC Irvine. “Based on everything we know about the brain, two of the things that are really good for it are physical activity and novelty. A thing that’s very bad for it is chronic and perpetual stress.” Living through a pandemic—even for those who are doing so in relative comfort—“is exposing people to microdoses of unpredictable stress all the time,” said Georgia Tech neuroscientist Tina Franklin, whose research has shown that stress changes the brain regions that control executive function, learning, and memory. 

That stress doesn’t necessarily feel like a panic attack or a bender or a sleepless night, though of course it can. Sometimes it feels like nothing at all. “It’s like a heaviness, like you’re waking up to more of the same, and it’s never going to change,” [Community College Professor Jen] George told me, when I asked what her pandemic anxiety felt like. “Like wading through something thicker than water. Maybe a tar pit.” She misses the sound of voices. 

“We’re trapped in our dollhouses,” said Rachel Kowert, a research psychologist from Ottawa, who studies video games. “It’s just about surviving, not thriving. No one is working at their highest capacity.” (emphasis mine)

I've only written six blog posts in the past year. My brain just hasn't been functioning the way it used to. I've been too tired, too overwhelmed. I would start to write, but lose interest. Couldn't put a complete thought together. All I wanted to do was get in bed and binge-watch... anything. 

But, life is changing! The winter of our discontent will soon be over. With vaccines rolling out in ever-increasing numbers, we will soon be dining indoors, gathering in large crowds—and hugging! A return to normal? No. There will never be a 'return'; only a moving forward to create the new normal. And that process is bound to stir up all sorts of new fears as well. 

In her March 9th opinion piece in The Washington Post, Dr. Lucy McBride calls this FONO—Fear of Normal:

Trauma has a way of doing that to us. We’ve lost more than 500,000 lives in this country alone. We’ve suffered unprecedented economic, social and emotional upheaval. And regardless of our individual pandemic experience, each of us has faced some level of loss, grief and despair...

But now that we’ve adjusted to pandemic life — with its inherent struggle, stress, social isolation, emotional toll and hidden silver linings — it’s understandable to experience emotional whiplash even as trauma recedes.

When patients come to her with these symptoms, she helps them assemble a toolkit to help them cope which can include "breathing techniques, guided meditation, regular exercise, prioritizing sleep and spending time in nature, all of which tamp down stress hormones." 

My district is going back to full in-person teaching and learning later this month. I sometimes catch myself wondering, Have I forgotten how to teach? Will I be able to do it?  Yes, I tell myself, you will! It's like riding a bicycle. But while my mind knows this, my emotions are sending up flares and I have to pay attention. 

Instead of trying to fight the stress, anxiety and fear, I leaned in. I didn't berate myself for sleeping more, scrolling through Facebook more, watching more TV, and yes, eating more. But, I also started to read books more, meditate more and spend more time in nature, and slowly but surely, the fog has started to lift. Pounds can be lost, exercise can be done, activity can ramp up in a time that is right and gentle. There is no stopwatch, no one is breathing down my neck to 'fix' everything that went 'wrong' in this past year—except me.

While flinging open all our doors and having big parties just as the warm weather arrives sure sounds a lot more exciting and fun than meditating, we must remember that those tools help build and support the infrastructure that is our physical and emotional wellbeing, without which, we are running on pure adrenaline. And once that adrenaline is gone, we are left feeling shaky and weak. 

So, ease into this new normal. Be gentle with yourself in the coming months. As tragic as this past year has been, we are being given an opportunity to redefine what we want our futures to be. How will you write yours?

Photo Credit: Alfred Schrock

Strange Days Indeed Pt. 2 — How Big Is Your Button?

Some reflections on life in these strange new times from someone who's lived through a few of her own

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You can buy one of Hicks' books by clicking on the links throughout this post.

These are my thoughts and feelings; this is my experience. Take what you like and leave the rest. I mean no judgment on you or your beliefs. This is just what works for me.

In Part 1 I talked about my grandparents, who raised me, and how their generation survived not only the Spanish Influenza, but the Great Depression and two World Wars—without Zoom meetings, cell phones, social media, Netflix, drive-by birthdays, or anything else that's helping us get through "these difficult times".

Sure, it's easy to wax nostalgic and think the entire country was united around the leaders of the day, everyone working together for the common good, but that would be too perfect. Yes, there was opposition, but it wasn't screaming in your face in real time, 24/7/365. Many people were simply too busy trying to survive.

Violet from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Oh how life has changed. With the sheer volume of information now available at the tap of a button, I feel like one of those kids in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory who couldn't resist all the temptation surrounding them until they were consumed by it. And who's to blame? Me, of course.

I have a big button. And I've allowed it to be pushed pretty hard over the years. Politics, war, injustice, Taylor Ham vs. pork roll (it's a Jersey thing)—you name it, I can sound off on it. And the more I react, the bigger the button, the easier it is to push, and the more stress, anxiety and fear grow inside me. 

There's a lot going on right now that is so tempting to dive into, and boy-oh-boy have I dove! But, what has it gotten me? Nuthin. Oh sure, it feels really good in the moment when I'm tweeting snarky remarks at politicians or proving my moral certitude to Internet trolls. But what does it do for my overall health and well-being? For the greater good? What energy am I sending out to my little corner of the universe? That I am afraid. I'm stuck in the vicious cycle of fear and my negative reaction to fear, which produces more fear. I'm stuck in what Buddhism calls Samsara, the infinitely repeating cycle of birth, misery, and death.

We all have a button. It doesn't have to be something as all-encompassing as the state of the world right now. It could be your neighbor who doesn't pick up after their dog, your overly-critical boss, a family member or that noise your car keeps making that you have no money to fix. Whatever it is, your reaction to it either increases or decreases the size of your button and your overall emotional state. And it does something else: because you're generating so much negative energy, negative energy finds its way to you. 

So, what to do? Start by acknowledging its existence. All that energy is there for a reason. What's it trying to say to you? What does it want from you? Why do these persons, places or things set you off? What if it was turned around to positive energy? What could you do with that? I grew up in a very dysfunctional and sometimes dangerous household. When things got really loud and scary, I shut down emotionally and hide—completely normal reactions for a child. But as an adult, I reacted that way to situations that were adverse, but weren't necessarily life threatening, because my ten-year-old mind was still running the show. I had to acknowledge all the hard work that kid did to keep me alive, and I had to let her know she didn't have to be in charge anymore. However, that little girl taught me an invaluable skill: how to calmly walk away from certain highly-charged situations. It's a skill for which I'm eternally grateful.

This doesn't mean that I don't get angry. Far from it! I'm a human being, and I care deeply about what's happening in the world right now. It's how I choose to react that keeps my button from growing. So, here's what I'm practicing:

• Limiting my exposure to televised news. I read more than I watch. 
• Disengaging with people on social media who are clearly button-pushers. That doesn't mean that I won't point out a factual error or a flaw in thinking, but it does mean that I won't react in ways that increase the size of my button, especially because there are people out there who get paid to push it! And if the conversation gets too heated, I can choose to walk away. Remember, it's the second person who starts an argument.
• Breathing. It's a simple, involuntary act that is so important in keeping us calm and centered. I do a simple breathing meditation first thing in the morning, and if I feel anxiety coming on, I stop what I'm doing, close my eyes and breathe into the feelings until they subside. There are so many great breathing meditations out there. Find one that works for you.
• Praying for people with whom I disagree or whose words or actions have caused pain or suffering. I'm not religious, but I do believe in a power greater than ourselves, and that sending good thoughts about someone into the universe can help them and me. Every great religion and spiritual teacher espouses love for all mankind as the fundamental goal of humanity. It's not easy, but I've found it to be very healing.

No matter the energy source that fuels our button, it will continue to grow until we make a conscious decision to change. It's not always easy, and it does take time, so be gentle with yourself. If you fall off that wagon (and we all do), just get back on again with no shame or blame. Otherwise you're just pushing your own button.

The Fight For Our Children

The number of suicides among people ages 10 to 24 nationally increased by 56 percent between 2007 and 2017, according to a new federal report showing the tragic consequences of an emerging public health crisis.

An NJ Advance Media report... highlighted New Jersey’s rising suicide rate among teens and young adults amid a mental health crisis.

- Adam Clark/NJ Advance Media for NJ.com

Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash

In the last three years, three Hunterdon Central Regional High School students and two former students have died by suicide: sophomore Alison Vandal in December 2017; senior Eden Carrera Calderon in October 2019; freshman Joseph Drelich, Jr in January 2020; graduate Jared Yazujian in January 2020; graduate, Christopher Soldano in July 2018. These tragic deaths have rocked our community to its core. In a county of only about 125,000 people, it seems everybody knows somebody who has been affected by them.

Suicide is the second leading cause of death among people between the ages of 10 and 24. It's a public health crisis that is largely being ignored. But, at least in our little corner of the state, that may be about to change.

Last night I attended an event called The Fight For Our Children, sponsored by Safe Harbor Child Access Center. Safe Harbor is a 501(c) 3 that "provides services to separating, divorcing, and divorced families to ensure that children have continuing contact with both parents and other family members. [They] provide a safe environment for individuals healing from trauma." For teenagers struggling with mental health issues, it's a place of warmth, comfort, acceptance, love, sharing and healing. 

The event was originally supposed to be held at Safe Harbor's facility, but the response was too big for their small space so it was moved across the street to the Flemington Baptist Church where a standing room only crowd filled the basement meeting room.

For the next two and a half hours Safe Harbor's director, Carol Dvoor, moderated the discussion amongst students, parents, grandparents, teachers, mental health professionals and other concerned citizens who poured out their ideas, experiences, heartbreaks and hopes in an effort to stop this epidemic. 

The most compelling speakers were, of course, the students: those who are dealing with depression and anxiety on a daily basis and those fighting like hell to make sure their friends get help.

Hunterdon Central is one of the largest high schools in the state. Three thousand backpack-laden students from four different sending districts move through various campuses, taking any number of courses from a catalog that rivals a community college. And with the county vo-tech literally on the same campus, there is a path of study for every student. It's often said that if you can't get an education at Central, you're just not trying. Both my children graduated from it; both did very well academically; both had very different experiences socially.

For all the great opportunities Central affords its students, in a school that size, it's easy to get lost, to slip through the cracks, to go almost unnoticed. And if a student is dealing with mental health issues, there just aren't enough counselors to service all the students.

I want to be very clear: my point here is not to lambaste Central. You don't get to be a Blue Ribbon School by accident. I know many dedicated teachers there who are committed to providing the best possible learning experiences for their students. They care deeply about them, as those who were in attendance last night expressed. But I was very disturbed by reports from the students who told us that, after each suicide, once the mandatory period of 'crisis-counselors-will-be-available-to-our-students' time was over, students were pretty much expected to go back to 'normal'. Time and again, their proposals for clubs, support groups, safe spaces, memorials and the like were turned away by administration. Some were told they were being "too impatient". 

Again, I'm not trying to point fingers at the school. I only heard one side of the story last night. To be fair, there were parents who did speak about things the school has done to provide more mental health services for students. I have no doubt that the administration is very concerned and doing what they believe is best. But, one thing was very clear last night: these students don't want solutions handed to them; they want to be part of creating them. It's their right. It's their way to heal. It's their friends who are dying. And if they are denied that right, the school is missing a huge opportunity for some innovative healing.

I am not an expert in suicide, nor am I a mental health counselor, but I did try to take my own life when I was 14. I felt I had no way out. I felt there was no hope, no other option to escape the pain. And, most importantly, I felt like there was no one who would or could help me. That's the tipping point. Fortunately, I wasn't successful, and eventually found the help and support I needed. But it wasn't until I was in my 20's and for many kids, that's just too late.

These kids need help. Now. Is it any coincidence that teen suicide rates have been climbing alongside the education 'reform' movement? Alongside the pressure from state and federal governments to undergo a 'rigorous' education? To perform like a trained dog on standardized tests so their teachers can keep their jobs? 

In addition to the social/emotional realities of being a teenager—which are now played out in real time on social media—their childhoods are being cut short. Students are forced to learn more and do more at alarmingly young ages, and it's simply not developmentally appropriate. Kindergarten is now the new first grade. Gone are nap time and lots of play and socialization. Now it's math, reading, writing and yes, testing. The process continues right up through high school where state and federal mandates expect all students to be 'college and career ready'. Why? So they can spend four or more years racking up tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars in loan debt with no clear way out?

Nowadays, it's not unusual for students in kindergarten and first grade to be under a doctor's care for anxiety and depression. This is madness. We must do better. We owe it to this generation, and those that will follow, to give them something other than a nihilistic view of their future. 

Where to start? I plan on going to the next Hunterdon Central Board of Ed meeting. Then I plan to start volunteering at Safe Harbor. Hope you'll make a difference in your community. Lives depend on it. 

We said this pledge at the beginning and end of the meeting last night. It bears repeating: 

I pledge to help raise awareness for the importance of mental health. To ally with others in my community to break the stigma surrounding mental illness and be a resource for those who need it. To listen to others without judgement and be open and considerate to all people regardless of their situation. To act when I see someone who is showing signs of mental illness. To educate myself and others on the issue. To do my best to treat myself kindly and prioritize my wellbeing no matter what problem I might face. To reach out for help if I need it. And above all, to remember that there are always people around me who love and support me. I pledge that I will do everything in my power to help end this problem within our community and the world.