Lise Deguire's Blog, page 9

The Surprise Quarantine Gift

Life had a calm empty-nest rhythm. Then, this spring, everything changed. We had not planned to shelter together with our grown children. The idea was that my 21-year daughter and her boyfriend would come here for two weeks until their college classes resumed. But classes never did resume; they morphed into virtual classes, and Anna and Ben morphed into semi-permanent residents.

My 23-year-old daughter, Julia, certainly did not plan to shelter together. She had moved to Chicago last summer to pursue her acting career, hundreds of miles from our Pennsylvania home. She had a job and a boyfriend and an agent. But when COVID-19 struck, her employer furloughed the staff. Julia was suddenly without income, with no car, in a shuttered city. So, Julia returned home as well.

Even Doug and I had not planned to be here. We were set to fly to Japan for a two-week vacation. We would travel to Hiroshima, Kyoto and Tokyo. We would stay in a traditional Japanese ryokan, visit temples, and eat sushi. All this was to happen in mid-March, before the coronavirus epidemic set in. Instead we cancelled our dream vacation, bought extra toilet paper, and welcomed our daughters (plus Ben!) back home.

Once again, our house burst with lively chatter and music. Our dog, Frankie, was ecstatic at the sudden change of circumstances. He could not believe his good fortune, going from a family of two parents pushing toward 60 to a household pulsing with restless young adults. He was walked, fed, and petted so much that he declared exhaustion, huffing his way back to the couch, completely spent.

We have sheltered together for ten weeks, and honestly, it’s been. . . awesome. Forced to rely solely on each other for company, creativity flourished. We powered through seven puzzles, Ben quietly establishing himself as the resident jigsaw master. I started playing the piano again. Anna turned to drawing and art projects to pass the time. Julia astonished us with her new culinary skills, taking over meal planning and cooking excellent dinners. Anna and Ben baked a chocolate cake so fine it could have been sold in a bakery.

In some ways, we have spent more quality time than we ever had as a family. I am not knocking us as parents. Doug and I worked hard to provide family dinners, cool vacations, and adventures. But in high school, we raced from band practice to voice lesson, from S.A.T. class to play rehearsals. There were orthodontist and dermatologist appointments. College applications needed completion. Family time felt frenetic, with each of us shooting out of the house multiple times a day, like a bunch of pool balls, struck by a cue stick.

In quarantine, none of that happened. We spent all day together, every day. Doug worked in his home office, I worked in my room, Ben studied in Anna’s room, Anna studied in the living room, and Julia spun energetic circles all over the house. We were all together, all the time.

Sometimes it got boring. At dinner, we would gaze at each other, wondering whether anyone had anything new to say. There would be silence. Not much happens in a house where no one ever leaves. Finally, I might say, “There’s news about a new vaccine!”

“Oh?”

“Yes, maybe in 6 months or so.”

“Oh. . . great.” Silence would fall again. “Please pass the bread.”

And, always, inevitably, “Julia, this dinner is awesome.”

We celebrated together, working valiantly to make holidays feel special. For Easter, Doug and I bought candy and socks, and hid them. Julia, Anna and Ben, who had previously declared they didn’t want anything for Easter, lit up with anticipation, racing around the house to find their hidden treats. For Mother’s Day, I asked for a family game night. We played Bananagrams and Charades, and I was overjoyed.

One night we declared a Lord of the Rings watch party, complete with a drinking game (drink when you see the ring!) and all of us dressed up in costume. I wore an old nightgown with a plastic crown and was declared an Elf Princess. Everyone else rolled up their pants, tied blankets around the shoulders and became hobbits. Even Frankie the dog got into the act, albeit reluctantly, sporting a tiny hat on his head and wearing a small cape with good humor.

Ben’s 21st birthday posed a problem. How do you make a 21st birthday fun for a guy trapped in his girlfriend’s parents’ house? Obviously, he couldn’t go bar hopping with friends. Instead, we set up a themed “bars” downstairs, and had Ben go “barhopping” from room to room. I ran a piano bar, Doug set up a man cave, and Julia held a fireside disco, complete with line dancing.

Tough times happened as well. Old tensions flared, with predictable fights about predictable things: I nag too much, Doug interrupts too much during movies, and my girls have entirely different standards for what constitutes a clean house. One night I presented a long list of all the household chores that needed to be done. My daughters gazed at me, impassive and unimpressed. I recited my list, resentment making my throat tight and hot.

As delighted as I was with our family time, my daughters struggled. Julia itched to return to her independent life in Chicago, sometimes chafing under my cheerful wish to connect. Anna grieved the end of her time at college, the last semester she would ever have there. My delight in our family time was tempered by the knowledge that neither Julia nor Anna (nor Ben!) would actually have chosen to spend ten weeks with us.

However, we have made the most of these days. And now… they are ending.

Last week, both girls declared their plans to go. Julia is returning to her life in Chicago. Anna and Ben are driving to Virginia, to stay with his parents for a while. I am trying not to cry. I know what they don’t know, what they can’t possibly grasp. We will never have a time like this again. Never.

There will never be a time that my two adult daughters will live in our house for ten weeks straight. Heck, it is difficult to snap a full family photograph for our Christmas card. For the last two years, we have had to plan months ahead to make sure we took a photo of all of us. If we can’t even get a family photo now, how likely is it that we will spend ten weeks as a family ever again? The answer is: not likely at all.

I dealt with Julia’s graduation. I mourned her departure to Chicago, and then I adjusted. I handled Anna’s going to college hundreds of miles away. I cried when she left, and then I adjusted. I went through my empty nest adaptation, and I got used to it. Now, I am losing both daughters again, in the space of one week, plus my bonus son, Ben.

I feel bereft.

The coronavirus has affected us all. I know that I am privileged, safe in my house, with food on the table, healthy and well. I understand that I really have no right to complain. But knowing that I am relatively lucky does not diminish the pain of this loss. I am so sad to say good-bye, yet again, to my daughters, full of vitality and humor. I am glad that they are going to resume their lives as they should, independent and feisty. But it grieves me to lose this family time, the last of its kind.

COVID-19 has been a deadly tragedy for thousands of people, and the economic fall-out will impact us for months, if not years. The virus remains, hovering deadly in the air. I would never wish this circumstance on anyone. I feel grateful, however, for the unexpected blessing of this time. I will never forget the gift of being together, just the four of us (plus Ben!) this spring. Our little family unit had an unforeseen ten-week reunion, and it was strange, and fun, and sweet. And now it is over.

#quarantinelife #parenting #COVID19

Hello, Please, and Thank You: Building Resilience Skills (Part 5 of 5)

When my daughters were little, we liked to eat breakfast at the Squirrel Café, a local eatery. We would sit at the round table, 5-year-old Julia perched on a booster seat, and 3-year-old Anna in a highchair. I would read the kids' menu aloud, “They have chocolate chip pancakes, or you could have waffles.”

“Waffles! Waffles!” they would shout, blond ponytails bobbing.

“OK, when the server comes, look at her, smile, and say, ‘May I please have the waffles.’”

Five minutes later, the server arrived, asking me what my daughters wanted for breakfast. I would look at my girls and say, “They can tell you.”

Julia, my confident girl, would beam her sunny smile and declare, “I would like the waffles, please!”

Shy little Anna would peer up at the waitress, and smile bashfully. In her high-pitched voice, she would pipe, “I would like the waffles please.”

The server would beam back, momentarily enchanted. “Well yes, you got it!”

Please. Thank you. Excuse me. I’m sorry. These phrases grease the wheels of social interaction. When there is friction, these phrases loosen the tension. But there is more to social skills than a few magic sentences. (This is the 5th and final part of a series on resilience skills, represented by the mnemonic, G.O.A.L.S. G is for Gratitude, O is for Optimism. A is for Active Coping . L is for Love. And S, our final discussion, S is for Social Skills.)

Resilient people tend to be socially adept, able to handle complexity, able to make and keep connections with others. For most of us, social skills form with a combination of modeling and coaching. Like my daughters, little kids watch their parents engage in back and forth conversation, taking turns, and listening. Parents teach their children how to listen, wait their turn, how to make eye contact, and politely ask for what they want.

So many things can go wrong. Perhaps their mother is depressed, despondent, and rarely speakss. Perhaps their parents fight frequently, modeling yelling and name calling instead of respectful dialogue. Some kids (and some parents) are on the spectrum, making social skills more difficult to acquire. Perhaps some parents are indulgent, neglecting to nudge their children into appropriate behavior. It is, after all, much easier to just order the waffles for your kids, instead of giving the tedious instructions on how to speak politely to a server. Still, most kids do develop basic social skills, either from their family, from other adults, from school, or even TV.

If you feel that your social skills could be better, the good news is that social skills can be taught and learned, whether you are a child or an adult. I have had adult clients, who were diagnosed in their 40s with high-functioning autism. Part of their therapeutic work has been improving their social skills. The real challenge has been on my end, learning to break down the components of social interaction into small, explainable, repeatable bites, e.g. 1) make eye contact 2) smile, 3) say “hello” 4) say “how are you?” 5) wait for the answer. 6) show an interest in the answer, etc. People with social deficits can learn better social skills, with coaching. Social skills may not have developed intuitively, but they can still be learned, and once put into practice, they will be reinforced by positive responses from others.

***

This resilience series has focused on five common elements of resilience: Gratitude, Optimism, Active coping, Love, and Social skills (G.O.A.L.S. for short). It is important, and fascinating, to notice how these multiple factors interact, affect each other, and form different possible outcomes.

Consider the following example: a brilliant boy is born to educated parents, who are well-meaning, but narcissistic. This boy is sensitive and introspective, and he does not socialize easily. He is often lonely and sad, lacking support and parental attention. Although he is polite, he doesn’t make close friends until high school. He tends toward serious depression and resists help. When he is 17, his parents divorce and he is left to take care of himself, with minimal parental supervision. At the age of 19, in despair, he takes his life.

Now here is a different example: a girl is born to brilliant parents, who mean well, but are self-absorbed. She does have an attentive older brother, who looks out for her. At the age of 4, she is badly burned in a fire, leaving her permanently disfigured. She is separated from her family for months at a time. However, she is friendly and cheerful, with good social skills, and she attracts support from her doctors and nurses, as well as ongoing care from her brother. Despite being bullied badly in school, she makes lifelong friends, who appreciate her cheerful nature, her optimism, and gratitude.

The first example is my brother Marc; the second example is me. All my life I have worked to understand why my brother is dead and I am alive. If you were to look at us, you would have predicted otherwise. He was the brilliant first born of gifted parents; I was the smart-enough second born, massively disfigured to boot. Anyone would have bet on Marc to be the successful adult and hoped that I might manage to survive.

Instead, he is dead from suicide, and I am here, living a pretty darn good life. Learning about resilience helped me understand this central mystery of my life.

My brother and I were born to the same parents and raised in the same environment. For myself, my natural cheery nature (optimism) attracted support from others (love) which helped me develop even better social skills. With support, I was able to learn how to actively cope with my problems. For my brother, despite his frank genius and kind-hearted nature, this did not happen. Without hope and support, he drifted toward a dark path, culminating in his tragic death.

Resilience is not about intelligence (although it helps). It is not about privilege or financial means (although they help too). Any of us can become more resilient and any of us can help those we love become more resilient as well. Writing this series, my hope is to help you see areas in which you too are resilient, and perhaps also areas in which you could improve.

This series identifies some key aspects to leading a resilient life that, when embraced, can yield powerful results for you. Do you need to sharpen your social skills? Be a better listener? Say “I’m sorry” more often? Those are achievable skills, and you can learn them. Do you need to cultivate gratitude? Could you be more upbeat? Are you an active problem-solver? Do you maintain your relationships? All these skills can enhance the quality of your life going forward. Consider ways you can build them in yourself. And If you need help, seek out helpers.

Hang in there. You can do it.

#resilience #Psychology

How are You Coping?: Building Resilience Skills (Part 3)

In week seven of quarantine, how are you managing your time? Are you contemplating new projects around your home? Catching up with old friends? Or are you despairing, listening to the news all day, falling under tidal waves of anxiety? Both reactions are common and understandable, but the first is clearly the one to shoot for. Let’s talk about how.

This is the third of a five-part series on building resilience skills, based on the mnemonic G.O.A.L.S. In my laziness, I was hoping I could reuse a blog I wrote last summer about coping, entitled “What is an Internal Locus of Control, and how do I get one?” (https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/what-is-an-internal-locus-of-control-and-how-do-you-get-one). That blog provided a perfectly good explanation of Active Coping, the A in G.O.A.L.S.

But reality has completely transformed from August 2019 to May 2020. What I wrote last summer was useful, but we live in a new world now, a COVID-19 world. So, I will try again to explain the importance of active coping in resiliency, in the context of our current crisis.

In the beginning of the pandemic, many of us managed to be upbeat. OK, we would stay home. OK, we would cancel our vacation. OK we would work from our kitchens. We joked about cleaning dusty closets and shredding 10-year-old MasterCard bills. We made Zoom calls with college roommates and festively downed margaritas. We waited.

Seven weeks later, those of us lucky enough to be safe in our homes, healthy and employed, feel … not so great. Tensions rise. Tempers flare. TV bores us. And the rain seems endless.

“I’m done,” declared my college friend, in our second pandemic Zoom call. She is usually a tower of strength, a woman equal parts intelligence, humor and chutzpah, who would stop at nothing to defend her family and friends. She is absolutely the funniest person I know. Last night however, she was in bed by 8:00, in her bathrobe, nursing an upset stomach. Her deep brown eyes, usually dancing with humor, stared mournfully into the screen. “I’m done.”

I hear you. How can we cope?

Active coping is the ability to approach a problem by asking, “What can I do about this?” and then endeavoring to do it. Active copers excel at analyzing problems. They can break problems down into components and assess the components over which they have influence. And then, active copers do their best to alter whatever is under their control.

Passive copers, in contrast, approach problems with discouragement. Crises just seem to happen to them. Maybe it is God punishing them. Maybe it is their fate. They just have bad luck. Passive copers do not assess what they can do to address their problem. Instead, they cope through avoidance and waiting for the issue to go away.

This pandemic is a unique circumstance in which we all are going through a terrible trauma, all together, at the same time. There is no one in America, or even the world, who is unaffected by Covid 19. We are all suffering (some more than others, granted). We are all anxious. We all have nights that we crawl to bed by 8:00, declaring “I am done!”

For those of us lucky enough to be physically and financially safe, our worst problems are boredom, uncertainty and anxiety. We are bored with so much unstructured time on our hands, with no social plans or obligations. Without active engagement, our minds easily drift toward anxious, catastrophic thoughts. Boredom easily transforms into anxiety.

When we feel passive, this unstructured time can seem like imprisonment. If we are feeling like active copers, however, this time represents an unprecedented opportunity. Right now, you have more free time than you ever dreamed possible. And you didn’t even have to retire to get it.

What would you like to do?

My dear friend Kathy has challenged herself. She already speaks two languages, having been an American in France for 20 years. She is married to a Swede and makes regular trips to Sweden to visit her in-laws. So, Kathy has immersed herself in on-line Swedish classes. Seven weeks later, she can now converse on the limited, but possibly useful, topics of dogs, moose, and turtles. Over the phone, in careful Swedish, Kathy informed me that she likes turtles, also that she doesn’t like turtles, and also that she loves turtles.

Last night in her bathrobe, my college friend declared that she has no interest in learning any language, she just wants this to be over. Yes, I get that. So, if the thought of learning how to discuss turtles in Swedish has no appeal, fear not. There are lots of ways to be an active coper.

First of all, forgive yourself if you aren’t feeling it today. Everyone has down days with little energy and no patience. If I have one more argument with my kids about picking up the house, I think my head might detonate clear off my body. Some days are like that. When you are having this kind of day, going to bed at 8:00 isn’t the worst idea. It’s better than screaming your head off.

Perhaps the next day, though, the sun is out, and you have a bit more gas in your tank. Great. What can you do today with this time? Call your best friend from fifth grade? Do a sewing project? Update your financial records?

Learning Swedish does not make the quarantine easy, but it does make it more interesting. But you don’t need to learn a new language or pick up the violin. Focusing on any productive task will help. I suggest focusing on positive goals not because you need to master some skill, but so you have something positive to think about, to spend time on, something (unlike the virus) that is actually under your control. (For more ideas on how to structure your stay-at-home time, see: https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/five-grounding-tips-for-a-strange-time)

Our national situation requires both acceptance and action on our part. We must accept the need to follow guidelines, to limit socializing, to keep each other safe. But within those limitations, we have endless choices. We can try to be positive. We can see this time as an opportunity for learning and growth. Remember phone calls? We have time for them now. We can call those friends that we always mean to call. We can exercise our poor middle age abs. We can learn Swedish and talk about turtles. There is still so much that we can do.

Please stay tuned for part 4 on this series about resilience skills, G.O.A.L.S.

-G is for Gratitude (https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/finding-gratitude-in-a-desolate-time-building-resilience-skills-part-1)

-O is for Optimism (https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/o-is-for-optimism-building-resilience-skills-part-2)

-A is for Active coping

What do you think L stands for?

#psychology #coping #resilience #quarantine

L is for Love: Building Resilience Skills (Part 4)

I have known many heroes. There was my surgeon, Dr. John Constable, who saved my life when I was little, and provided me with kindness and care. There was my older brother, Marc-Emile Deguire, who diligently parented me. There was even a stranger, whose name I never knew, who gave me flowers when he witnessed me being taunted and bullied in kindergarten. So many people have been so kind.

L. is for Love, the fourth element of resilience that I want to highlight. (This is the fourth of a five-part series on building resilience skills, based on the mnemonic, G.O.A.L.S.) Resilient people feel loved and cared for. Resilient people believe they are lovable and they offer love in return, building and preserving a lifetime of warm relationships.

Most people think that resiliency will come with having a family who loves and cares for us. But what if you do not feel loved and cared for by your family? What if, in fact, you truly are not loved and cared for by your family? For example, there are plenty of LGBTQ folk whose families refuse to love them as they are. And there are people whose parents die young, leaving them orphaned in the world. And there are people like me, whose parents meant well, but who caused (unintentional) deep damage just the same.

I think one of the great keys in life is the ability to connect to people, regardless of whether they are family or not. Just because a person doesn’t share your blood, does not mean they can’t be like a mother to you. Just because a person isn’t a friend yet, doesn’t mean they can’t become the best friend you ever had.

L. is for Love.

After my brother died, I spent years visiting his friends at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. (To learn more about Marc’s death, click here: https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/staying-alive-lessons-from-my-brother-s-suicide ) Marc’s college friends welcomed me into their social circle, even though I was just 14 years old. I had met one of them, Cindy, the previous spring. She was 19 years old and a pre-med student. She was short on money and worked a part time job to help pay her tuition. Somehow, though, Cindy was never too busy for me.

I can still see her running toward me, three days after my brother’s death. My father and I had made a long mournful drive from Long Island to Cambridge, Massachusetts. We came to M.I.T. to identify his broken body and to pack my brother’s belongings. Cindy heard that I was on campus. She rushed over to the Dean’s building. She raced down the long white corridor, long hair flying, both arms outstretched, and enfolded me into her.

For the next four years, Cindy welcomed my visits whenever I wanted, which included one entire summer. I took the train up to Boston. I slept on a futon in the living room, or in a spare room, or wherever. She made me pasta. We watched M*A*S*H* together and she took me to parties. She introduced me to Joni Mitchell, playing me "Big Yellow Taxi" and singing along in her clear soprano voice. Most notably, she essentially took over my medical care.

For all my childhood, I received my burn care (50 plus operations) at either Massachusetts General Hospital, or at Shriners Burns, both in Boston. My family lived in New Jersey, and they did not stay with me when I was hospitalized. My parents would take turns visiting me on the weekends, but I was otherwise completely alone. That sounds strange now, in the era when mothers routinely move into their sick child’s hospital room. I can explain it several ways: times were different, my parents both worked, and my parents were self-focused and not emotionally available for their children. Regardless of the explanation, I was a lonely child. Now, with the death of my brother, I was even more alone.

When I had my next surgery in Boston, three months after Marc’s death, Cindy quietly took over. Unlike my parents, whom I rarely saw, Cindy visited me every single day. She visited even during a massive blizzard, when she literally trudged over the iced Charles River that separates Cambridge from Boston. I don’t know how she managed all these visits, because she was taking classes and working at the time. But every evening, Cindy appeared in my hospital room, bringing stories of her day and asking how I was feeling.

Even now, my eyes fill with tears at the generosity of her spirit. Cindy was there for me when my parents could (would?) not be. Her love carried me through the darkest days of my life.

A few years ago, I reached out to thank her. “Cindy, I want to thank you for everything you did for me. All the hospital visits, for letting me live with you. You took such care of me and you were just a kid yourself, only 19 years old. I am so grateful to you.”

There was a pause. Her voice was gentle. “Lise, I really liked you.”

“OK, yes. I know. But you were incredibly kind and generous.”

“I just liked you, that’s all.”

L. is for Love. We are born into our families, who may, or may not, emotionally match our needs. Let’s not even blame them; our parents are who they are, through whatever forces shaped them. They did the best they could, or maybe they didn’t. Still, they are who they are.

The beautiful thing about our world is that it is full of people, people who may be more capable of loving us the way we need to be loved. There are Cindys. The key is not to give up on finding those people. Or being one of those people.

One thing about finding love outside your family is that it requires effort. It takes hope and an open heart, even if you have been hurt in the past. And, let’s face it, you need to be… lovable. People outside your family won’t gravitate to you if you are grumpy and nasty. This is where all the elements of resiliency start to loop together, interacting with each other in a complex web.

Remember G. for Gratitude? (https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/finding-gratitude-in-a-desolate-time-building-resilience-skills-part-1) This is where we started. Grateful people are resilient people. In addition, grateful people are more lovable. It is more rewarding for someone to love us if we express gratitude for their kindness. If instead, we complain, “You didn’t give me enough, and I deserve more,” a person will turn away, feeling unappreciated. But if we voice gratitude, people want to keep us in their lives.

Remember O. for Optimism? (https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/o-is-for-optimism-building-resilience-skills-part-2 ) Optimistic people are simply more pleasant to be around. Many of us can be patient with gloomy people, but we probably won’t invite them to live with us for the summer. Cheerful people make us feel better and are just. . . more appealing.

Remember A. for Active Coping? (https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/how-are-you-coping-building-resilience-skills-part-3 ) People who actively manage their lives also inspire more affection from others. We admire hardy problem solvers, and we want to help those who are attempting to help themselves. Active Copers are usually the ones forging positive connections with people. They are more likely to find their Cindy, who can give them the love they need to keep going.

One of the impetuses for me to write my memoir was to tell the love stories of my life. I don’t mean the romantic love stories, but stories of true kindness. The universe gifted me with many true friends, people who kept me going, who loved me even though I was not their blood. I look forward to sharing more about Cindy, Dr. Constable, and especially my brother, Marc. Flashback Girl: Lessons on Resilience from a Burn Survivor will be released in September 2020. It is a happier story than you might think, full of people like Cindy, and other heroes.

In the meantime, stay turned for the final part of this 5-part resilience series on G.O.A.L.S. G is for gratitude, O is for optimism, A is for active coping, and L is for love. What do you think S is for?

#resilience #psychology

Flashback Girl Interviews Herself, Again

Hello, it's been awhile since we talked. How are you?

This has been the strangest, most unsettling year I can remember. I don’t mean for me personally, because my family and I are fine, thank goodness. But I have never lived through such a tumultuous time in our country, with so many simultaneous crises. We are facing a health crisis, an economic crisis, a racial justice crisis, and a crisis of epic division in our country. The news itself feels like a daily onslaught.

Yes, it has been terrible for many people. What a time to have written a book about resilience!

I never dreamed, when I titled my book, that the word “resilience” would become a buzz word in 2020. Everywhere I look, I see articles discussing resilience, what it is, and how we can improve our capacity for it.

When is your book coming out?

The book, Flashback Girl: Lessons on Resilience from a Burn Survivor, will be released in September 2020, in just two months.

What has this process been like?

Self-publishing has its pros and cons. If I had a traditional publisher, I would have had a lot less work, but I would also have had a lot less control. When you self-publish, you hire your own designer and editors, and you set up your own publishing business. I have had to research how to ready a manuscript for publishing, how to print it, and how to publicize it. I taught myself all these skills and I have learned a lot. Some days are exhilarating, and some days are exhausting.

Luckily, I have had many helpers. My husband is my sounding board, helping me think through issues and solving all my technological crises (I am technologically challenged). My friend Celeste offered to do the final proofread and turned out to be a stellar editor. My gifted nephew, Austin Alphonse, designed the book cover, which is as perfect as a book cover could be. He also dealt with the layout, which apparently, I totally messed up (remember the technologically challenged part?). He didn’t even complain.

How will we know when your book comes out?

Oh, honey, you will know! First of all, I will post on this blog, Facebook, Instagram, etc. In addition, an excellent publicity company agreed to represent me, and they will help me get my message out to local, regional and (hopefully) national media. I will also be collaborating on two new podcasts about resilience with the Phoenix Society (the international association for burn survivors) so information about the book will be available for the burn community through these podcasts as well.

Again, what a time to write a book about resilience!

I know. It is funny. When COVID-19 first hit, I wondered if this was a terrible time to release a memoir. It seemed like all anyone could talk or think about was the pandemic, and with good reason. Then, panic about the virus seemed to lessen, but be replaced with an intense focus on social justice and racial equity. Needless to say, my memoir has nothing to offer on the vital topics of pandemics or the life experiences of people of color.

However, on a meta-level, I have noticed that many people are talking about resilience: what helps people bounce back from tough times, strong and healthy. Here is where I feel my book fully meets the moment. Yes, my book is a memoir, and it focuses on my life experience as a burn survivor, a bullying survivor, a survivor of a highly dysfunctional family, a suicide survivor, etc. But the lessons at the end of each chapter are lessons for everyone; lessons on how to make it through crises, how to keep going, how to get support and help. So, I think Flashback Girl has great value for all on how to survive and thrive through horrible times. And right now, all of us, every one of us, is living through a horrible time.

How are you feeling about the book coming out?

I am excited, energized, and also nervous. Putting my life story out there, in such vulnerable detail, makes me feel squirmy. There is very little held back in this book, with the exception of events that I think might make other living people look bad. The book is honest and unsparing.

I have joked recently that I am an unfortunate combination of a person who is emotionally vulnerable and open, and also a person who is devastated by criticism. I know that my book will be critiqued (and should be!) just like any other book. I also know that writing so honestly about my life will leave me personally open for criticism from anyone who cares to read it. Further, I have become invested in being a good, albeit untrained, writer. I know my writing will also come under scrutiny, which makes me nervous too.

Still, I am excited. This book has been a three-year long quest, into which I have poured all my energy. I have been chugging along like the Little Engine That Could, huffing my way up mountains called “finding an agent,” “rewriting,” “getting authors to write you blurbs.” I have been muttering, “I think I can, I think I can” for three years now, traversing this strange land of writing and publishing.

I am ready to put my story into the world, to tell my tale, and for the story to have its impact. Life can be brutal, but we can make it. I say this as a person who has endured fire, horrifically painful medical care, disfigurement, bullying, parental neglect and divorce, and four family suicides. And you know what? I have a great life now, full of love and meaning. It is possible to survive anything, and even to thrive afterwards. I hope that my tale will inspire you and yours to keep going.

Flashback Girl: Lessons on Resilience from a Burn Survivor will be released in September 2020, and available for purchase on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and my website (www.lisedeguire.com). Please stay tuned!

#resilience

Cover design by Austin Alphonse

My Sore Throat

It started with a sore throat. Pain clenched inside me, mild but notable. It was the kind of sore throat one would normally ignore, were it a normal time. One might think, “Oh I’m allergic to something” or, “Maybe I'm getting a cold.”

Then there was the fatigue. I awoke already tired, with no energy to work out on the elliptical or to walk the dog. I didn’t want to do laundry. I didn’t want to do anything.

My husband started having symptoms the night before me. He had a sore throat, fatigue, a mild headache, a bit of a cough. In his alarm, he slept in the guest room, trying to protect me from whatever he had caught. But it was no use; I awoke in the morning with the exact symptoms.

I have never called the doctor for a mild sore throat and fatigue before. I am not so easily cowed, health-wise. As a burn survivor, I have endured countless surgeries and the worst pain known to mankind. It is hard to get my attention for cold symptoms. Fatigue? I push on and grab a nap later. Sore throat? I drink some tea with honey. Aches? I gulp two ibuprofen and return to work.

So, it was unlike me to have a (virtual) doctor’s appointment within six hours of developing symptoms. But this is no ordinary time.

“Do you have a fever?”

“No.”

“Has your sense of taste or smell changed?”

“No”

“Are you having chills?”

“No”

The doctor looked at me, blinking through the computer screen. “I think you are probably OK, but we just don’t know these days. Many people think they are having allergies, and it turns out they are COVID positive. People can have coronavirus with no symptoms at all. Would you like to get tested?”

“I don’t want to waste any tests, if we are in short supply, or if you think I’m overreacting.”

“It’s fine. We have enough tests in Pennsylvania right now. And we have paid a heavy price for not testing enough. Go get it done.”

My husband and I drove to the local test center in a soaking rain. The center had a pop-up, transient feel, like a political campaign office that springs up six months before an election. One day it had been an empty office near the mall, the next day it bustled with grim-faced people in masks. A young Black woman ran to our car in her protective gear, her bright smile somehow evident behind her mask and plastic face shield. We completed the paperwork and waited to be called.

My husband got tested first, and then it was my turn. As I walked up, Doug stayed to hold my hand.

“It takes longer than I thought. She has to really get up in there and dig around.”

“Oh no!”

“You will be OK. It doesn’t hurt. It just feels weird.”

The woman pulled out the swab and I leaned my head back. That swab went so far up my nose I thought it would emerge out my left ear. She waved it around inside me, in a way which felt . . . overly committed (but was probably necessary.) There is no way to wave a swab high up in your nose and make it feel fine. It didn’t hurt though.

When she was done, she carefully loaded my swab into a tube. “You will get the results in two days.”

“Oh, OK, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled a beatific smile. I marveled at her bravery, her commitment to helping strangers, striding out in the rain with her mask and face shield.

Unplanned, I blurted out, “God bless you” as I returned to my car.

Forty-eight hours is a long time to wait if you might possibly have a life-threatening illness. It was also a long time to think.

I traced every step and each contact. There weren’t that many, in the past 14 days. It’s not like I go out much anymore, and I do wear a mask. Still, I had been to my office, to the hair salon and to the nail salon (four months of quarantine does nothing for a middle-aged woman’s appearance). We had had windows replaced, and I had seen two friends, mostly outside. In addition, I had visited my mother in law. I thought of every one of those contacts and shook my head. Had I endangered them all?

Why did I visit my mother in law in her home? Yes, she wanted us to come. Yes, it made her happy and we had a lovely visit, sharing dinner and watching Hamilton. But was that visit worth it? If I were COVID positive, there seemed impossible that I hadn’t infected her. We stayed in her beach house overnight. I didn’t hug her and I tried to keep my distance, but her house has only three small rooms. If I gave her COVID 19, there were multiple medical reasons why I might have imperiled her life.

Then there was my best friend, Susan. Why had I hugged her? I didn’t mean to. In fact, I had studiously avoided hugging her this spring, to the point that she teased me, mocking my caution. But the last time she came over, we ventured indoors, and I played a special piano medley for her. Susan knew this medley because she also was my best friend when I acquired it, four decades ago. My musician father had arranged it for me as a birthday gift, but the piece was so challenging that I had never been able to play it through. Now, four decades later, after months of diligent quarantine practice, I played this medley triumphantly. My fingers flew all over the keyboard, ending in a cascade of thumping chords. Susan grinned when I finished, and I felt such joy that I spontaneously hugged her around her waist. We both dropped our arms quickly, remembering that we shouldn’t touch. But still, I had hugged her.

Darker thoughts came. What if I died? Who would look after my daughters? I don’t mean practically; my 23 and 21-year-old daughters run their own lives, intelligently and independently. I mean emotionally. Who would tune into them? Who would even remember to check on them? There is so much hard learning to do in your twenties. There would be professions to start, partners to marry, children to bear, mortgages to acquire. Young adults need attuned parents to offer a caring, soothing safety net. And yes, they had a father and a stepfather too. But, wouldn’t my daughters need a mother?

Two days later, at about 48 hours exactly, I received a message from my doctor. “Good news: your results are negative! Congratulations!”

I woke my husband from his nap. “We are negative!” We beamed at each other and breathed a long sigh of relief.

***

What did I learn from these two days of fear? I could say I’m going to be more careful now. But honestly, I’ve always been pretty careful. I wear my mask and I keep my distance. When opportunities arise to socialize with a group of people indoors, I smile regretfully and decline. I do not travel. I do not dine at restaurants. I do not hug (except that one time!) I give myself a B+/A- in COVID safety.

What this experience really taught me is how calamitous it would feel to be positive. The fear, the regret, the guilt; it was overwhelming. This experience fully recommitted me to caution, despite the psychological fatigue of these past months. Now, when I don my face mask, or back away from a person, I feel peace. I am glad to take these actions and I do them with intent and commitment. I’m content to be careful, for myself, my family and for everyone around me. It is no problem. In fact, it is an honor to protect people.

It felt awful when I thought I had COVID.

#COVID19 #coronavirus #Resilience

On Marshmallows and Pandemics

When I was four years old, fire devoured my little body. I spent days. . . weeks. . . months alone in the hospital. My blackened skin was scrubbed off and my open wounds were patched over with new skin. The lower half of my face and neck were reconstructed and sewn back together, slowly, painstakingly, one excruciatingly painful operation at a time.

I was four and I was alone. Doctors and nurses would tell me that I had to have another operation, or another horrific dressing change. I had to endure these procedures, so that I could get better and go home. There would be searing pain and lonely days, but eventually, I would go home. So, I submitted to the dressing changes. And I did my painful exercises. And I had my scary operations. I did what I was told, by people whom I trusted, and eventually I did go home.

Perhaps because of these formative experiences, I am a champ at delayed gratification. If you tell me that a certain action is required for a positive outcome, and if I believe you, I can delay gratification for a long time. Thus, I saved the $2,000 earned at my first summer job in a retirement account, and have accrued compound interest ever since. And yes, I meditate every morning, even though I just want to drink my coffee. And yes, I lift weights, even though I dislike exercise. I do these activities because I trust there are good reasons to delay what I want to do RIGHT NOW (spend the money, drink coffee, watch TV) so that I can have the things I want in the future (financial stability, peace of mind, good health.)

We are all learning a lesson in the value of delaying gratification in this year of COVID 19. The capacity to delay gratification, to put off doing what we want RIGHT NOW, so that we can have something much better later… this ability could save all our lives, just like it saved mine, decades ago.

Some of us follow the COVID 19 recommendations exactly. We cancel our plans and stay home. We avoid restaurants, perhaps allowing a take-out meal, eaten mournfully in our kitchens. We stay away from elderly relatives. We shout pleasantly at our neighbors from a safe distance. We do all these things, understanding that we must delay what we want RIGHT NOW (adventure, socialization, a decent meal) for more important gains later (keeping everyone alive).

Some of us can postpone our joy and some of us… can’t. Why not? Partly it is because we receive mixed messages in the media, and some of us do not understand that we need to be careful. Perhaps some of us are not mature enough to understand the true risks involved. Teenagers are never good at assessing risk (It is amazing anyone even survives adolescence). Some people do not trust the news and do not trust in the eventuality of promised positive outcomes. And some people have never been good at delayed gratification.

There was a classic psychology experiment done in the 1960s, commonly referred to as the “marshmallow study.” Preschoolers were left alone in a room with a marshmallow right in front of them. The researcher told them that they could eat the marshmallow right away, if they wanted to. However, if they could just wait ten more minutes, they would be able to eat two marshmallows. https://www.latimes.com/science/sciencenow/la-sci-sn-marshmallow-test-kids-20180626-story.html Thus, it was clearly in the child’s best interest to sit and wait ten minutes before eating that marshmallow. If they could wait, they would earn double the prize.

About one third of the children were overcome by the sight of the treat and gobbled the marshmallow as soon as the researcher left. Another third succumbed at some point during the ten minutes, unable to wait any longer. But one third of the kids could wait. They distracted themselves by closing their eyes or singing songs. One memorable boy grabbed a quick nap.

The researchers tracked these kids longitudinally. The kids who waited were better students, got higher SAT scores, and stayed in better physical and emotional health.

These days, it is like we are all in a giant marshmallow test. We are being asked to stay home, avoid unnecessary travel, wear masks and keep our distance from each other. We are asked to do these things in the hopes of getting our two marshmallows: getting back to normal and saving lives.

Some of us diligently follow these rules. Maybe we take a little risk here or there; dining out on our anniversary or visiting our mothers. But generally, we stay put, trusting in science and delaying our gratification.

Some of us… don’t. Just a week ago, 700 people crammed inside a New Jersey rental house, and partied down. Bars are crowded, with each drink likely leading to diminished caution, as alcohol lowers inhibitions. Stories abound of people taking breathtaking chances. And sure, many of these people will walk away just fine. Some of them won’t. And neither will their families.

In the original marshmallow test, one kid’s actions did not affect everyone else. If one little girl grabbed her marshmallow with two fists, it didn’t mean that every other child was deprived. Each child had free will, able to choose one immediate treat or a longer wait for two. But, in our current national marshmallow test, one person’s failure to delay gratification can possibly endanger many others.

What can we do? First, take heart. There are many people out there, trying to mitigate risk. Thousands and thousands of people wear masks, avoid crowds, stay home and are not eating their marshmallows. You are not alone. Rule-followers may not be making the news, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t in the majority. Lots of people are being very careful and you are in good company.

Second, trust the long-term promise. There are armies of scientists, working 24/7, all around the world. They are developing vaccines and carefully testing them. These scientists are not exercising blind faith. They study, they hypothesize, they replicate, compare to control groups, and replicate again. Scientists have advanced the public health interest for hundreds of years. They discovered germs and the importance of hand washing. They discovered penicillin and eradicated Smallpox. Scientists are once again working diligently to solve the COVID 19 crisis. They are making progress. Trust them.

Third: set a good example. The more of us who model responsible behavior, the better. People mimic each other, just like in the saying “monkey see, monkey do.” If many people wear masks, more people will wear masks. (Conversely, if many people attend indoor parties, more people will attend indoor parties.) Set an example for others, particularly for young people, but also for everyone. Be a trend setter!

Fourth: Keep this difficult time in perspective. Humans have lived through a lot worse than this. People have endured wars, starvation, the Great Depression and slavery. Having to stay home and wearing a mask at the grocery store is just not in the same league. I grant you, this is a stressful, upsetting and disappointing time. But in the grand scheme of humanity, this year is not that hard (as long as you aren’t sick). You know what’s hard? Dying from COVID. You know what’s harder? Watching someone you love die from COVID, fearing that you gave it to them.

We can all make it through this. A bit of sacrifice now will be worth it in the long run. Hold on for the two marshmallows.

Note: The author’s book, Flashback Girl: Lessons on Resilience from a Burn Survivor, will be released on September 15, 2020. The paperback edition will be available for pre-order shortly. Click here now to pre-order the Kindle edition!: https://www.amazon.com/Flashback-Girl-Lessons-Resilience-Survivor-ebook

#COVID19 #Coronavirus #Psychology #Burns

O is for Optimism: Building Resilience Skills (Part 2)

When Mister Rogers was a little boy and not yet a Mister, he found current events frightening. According to the news, tragedies were happening everywhere. What was one little boy to do? His mother comforted him, saying, “Look for the helpers.” Her words gently redirected him to focus on the rescuers instead of the perpetrators, on the hope instead of the loss. Indeed, in the midst of every catastrophe, Fred could see people coming to care for those in need. Little Fred Rogers grew up to be Mister Rogers, whose TV show educated decades of preschoolers. And using these same words, “Look for the helpers,” he comforted other scared children during times of national crisis.

Such are the times we live in now. There is a deadly virus sweeping the globe, imperiling us all. We are forced to shelter in our homes, waiting for the contagion to pass. We worry about our health, our family’s well-being, our jobs, our bills, and the state of our nation. Bad news marches on like an endless parade.

But look. Every day, armies of men and women toil to help us. Doctors and nurses labor around the clock, clothed in inadequate protective gear, treating patient after patient. These exhausted medical professionals put in extra time, comforting their lonely patients whose families can not visit. Janitors swab down rooms, and mop the floors, fighting infection. Grocery store workers brave coronavirus, endlessly restocking shelves so that we have enough food. People quarantined in their houses spend their time sewing face masks for donatation. Helpers abound all around us. Don’t you feel better, thinking about that?

This is the second of a five-part series on building resilience skills. (For Part 1, click here: https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/finding-gratitude-in-a-desolate-time-building-resilience-skills-part-1) I have developed a mnemonic to help remember five crucial aspects of resilience: G.O.A.L.S. The G stands for Gratitude. The O, subject of today’s blog, stands for Optimism. Optimism is the ability to notice the good, and the propensity to anticipate that good things will happen. If a bad thing happens instead, a healthy optimist will acknowledge the problem, but will quickly refocus onto good possible outcomes.

Optimism is highly correlated with resilience. There could be many reasons for this correlation. Optimists are easier company and tend to elicit more social support for themselves. Also, because optimists imagine positive outcomes, they may be more likely to take action to improve their circumstances. It is easier to act when there is hope.

I have always been an optimist, despite my brutal childhood, which was full of physical and emotional pain, neglect, and loss. You might think my background would have made me pessimistic, but it didn’t. Partly I think I was born this way. Partly Deguires seem to be a cheerful lot. Maybe its the show music I listen to, which tends to be sunny and upbeat. I do know that having a cheerful nature has helped me immeasurably. My optimism enables me to take chances on self-expression, affectionate outreach, and professional growth. Here’s an example.

As part of becoming a writer, I have been working on building my platform, through speaking engagements. Thus I have applied for many opportunities, some quite high level. I have had successes, but also many failures. Each time my application was rejected, I felt crushed for a while. (For example, see: https://www.lisedeguire.com/post/how-...).

My husband Doug, a practical man, has repeatedly said to me, “You get your hopes up too much. I wish you would assume that you might not get these gigs. That way, if you don’t get them, you won’t be so disappointed.”

I tried to do as he suggested but it wasn’t in my nature. Every time I applied for a speaking engagement, I envisioned myself winning the spot. I could see myself delivering my talk to a riveted audience. I could hear the applause. I foresaw the sales of my book booming. It would be a big success! Or so I would imagine, until the next rejection.

“See? Why do you let your hopes go up so high? I hate to see you so upset.”

It was months before I had an answer. Why did I let my hopes go up so high? Finally, the answer came to me. Having high hopes was the only way I could take the risk. If I didn’t imagine the positive outcome, I would never try at all. I had to visualize the optimistic ending in order to have the guts to put myself out there.

Optimism cheers us and gives us courage. Would you like to work on being more optimistic? Here is a great article I found: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/18/smarter-living/how-to-be-more-optimistic.html One exercise involves imagining aspects of your life in ten years’ time, (your love life, your children, your work, etc). Let’s focus first on your love life. Imagine, in ten years, the best possible scenario. Where would you be living together? (My answer: a sun-filled home with both natural beauty and access to great culture). What would you do together? (Travel frequently, see a lot of theater; spend time with family and friends; share a life of love, humor and intimacy) How would you interact? How would you make each other feel? Answer each of these questions with the best possible vision of your life. Really let yourself go. Imagine the most blissful love life you can.

If we allow our brains to imagine the best-case scenario, we are more likely to feel more cheerful and motivated. Letting our brains exercise optimism on a grand scale will help us notice when we are thinking pessimistically and will train our brains notice the good around us more.

My favorite aunt called me a couple of weeks ago. She is 94 years old, and lives in a senior citizen complex. Aunt Betty is a friendly, sociable soul, and she enjoys living in a thriving community. But, due to the virus, she now has to stay alone in her one-bedroom apartment and she is getting pretty bored. But Aunt Betty has always been a cheerful, adaptable soul, a true model of optimism.

We discussed the news and the virus. She told me that she is getting her meals delivered to her door now, and that she rarely sees her neighbors. “If all this ended, it would be OK.”

A moment passed. This statement was so unlike her, I wasn’t sure I heard her right.

“Are you saying that you would be at peace with dying now?”

“Yes.”

I paused again. She didn’t seem upset. Her voice was serene. “OK, I hear you.” And I did. She has been through a lot and 94 is not young.

Gently, Betty said, “Yes, I’m at peace. But, you know… not tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow?”

“No. I have some delicious food in my refrigerator that I’m really looking forward to finishing.”

We laughed and laughed. That’s my Aunt Betty, grounded, reasonable, and always able to notice the best in her situation, even if the current best thing is just some appetizing leftovers. Yes, times are hard for her, just as they are for all of us. But having acknowledged her struggle, she could notice a simple joy, and refocus herself onto anticipation of her next delicious meal. And then we could share a companionable laugh together, uplifting us both.

That’s optimism for you. Being optimistic doesn’t mean that life is easy. It just means that you notice the good around you and stay hopeful that good things will happen. That cheerfulness attracts support. And I say to you (optimistically) that you can become a more optimistic person too.

Stay tuned for Part 3 of this series on resilience skills, focusing on G.O.A.L.S. G is for gratitude; O is for optimism. What do you think A is for?

#resilience #coping #MentalHealth #psychology

Finding Gratitude in a Desolate Time: Building Resilience Skills (Part 1)

For the last year, I have been speaking about psychological resilience, almost by accident. I didn’t really intend to lecture; I started off writing my memoir, and I became a speaker to help build a platform. But life is funny; we get pulled into unexpected circumstances, which, only in retrospect, wind up making sense.

So I didn’t intend to develop expertise in psychological resilience, but that’s what happened. And now here we are, in the midst of a global crisis, a crisis requiring immense resilience from all of us. I hope to be able to help.

There are many elements that contribute to a person’s capacity for resilience. Some elements are inborn, genetic even, and some over which we have little control (e.g. economic privilege, living in a safe community). Out of all the factors that contribute to resilience, there are 5 elements that I find the most salient. For ease of remembering, I developed a mnemonic for them: G.O.A.L.S. I would like to share this with you. For today, let’s focus on G.

G. is for Gratitude.

I had my own gratitude experience this morning. I don’t pray often, but I did today. When I pray, I always start off thanking God for my health, the health of my family, our work, and our home. I usually say this part of my prayer reflexively, without much thought. This morning, that prayer felt different. I have never felt such intense gratitude for my health and the health of my family, this simple yet so vital blessing. We are healthy so far. Thank you. We have work. Thank you. We have a home. Thank you again.

Grateful people are happy people. There is plenty of science about gratitude. Martin Seligman, author of Authentic Happiness, recounts the unique circumstances that led him to study what makes people truly happy: his son complained about him. Seligman was already a famous psychologist, working at a world class university. But his son griped that, despite all his successes, his father never seemed happy. Seligman, being a genius, did not respond like I might, telling his son to go away and stop being so critical. Instead, he turned his world class intellect toward the complaint. Why wasn’t he happy? He should be, given all his success and fame. Thus began his new area of research, the study of what makes people happy.

What creates true happiness? It isn’t money. It isn’t a beach house. It isn’t fame. No, those things are pleasures. Pleasures are lovely but they produce only fleeting joy. What makes people truly happy is feeling purpose in their work, having meaningful relationships, and the capacity for gratitude.

Gratitude shifts our perspective. Instead of focusing, as most of us unconsciously do, on what is disappointing or stressful, gratitude steers our focus onto what is good. We all tend to overlook the good, in our never-ending quest to fix all that feels bad. But focusing on the bad creates anxiety and bitterness. Conversely, focusing on the good creates contentment and well-being.

Here is my best example. You may know that I was brutally burned in a fire when I was four. My mother left me, in the fire she accidentally set, to save herself. I was burned third degree over 65% of my little body. I almost died twice. I endured years of excruciating surgeries, multiple hospitalizations far away from my (loving but dysfunctional) family. I was bullied when I was home. I had a brutal childhood.

And yet. That fire occurred on the shores of a lake, the waters of which extinguished the flames and saved my life. We were vacationing in New Hampshire and I was admitted to Mass General Hospital, which was nearby. Mass General just happened to be the best burn hospital in the country at that time, and possibly the best in the world. Although in 1967, most severely burned children died, I lived. From admission on, my doctor, Dr. John Constable, took excellent, tender, compassionate care of me. He was trained at Harvard Medical School, and was internationally known, one of the best plastic surgeons in the country.

Also, I was sponsored by the Shriners, who provided me with all my medical care, for many years, completely free of charge. Hundreds of doctors and nurses worked on me, all throughout my childhood, and indeed, even now. All those professionals have taken care of me, helping me recover, rejoicing in my returning health.

So you see, although I was tragically unlucky, I was also very lucky. The same story, one of trauma, abandonment, isolation and pain, is also a story of luck, care, generosity and devotion. This is the same story, but told through the eyes of gratitude.

There are exercises to help become a more grateful person. One classic exercise is to start a Gratitude Journal. This is not your classic journal, in which you write the frustrations and pains of your day. It is, in fact, the opposite. In a Gratitude Journal, you write, daily if possible, three things for which you are grateful that day.

Some days will be easy and some days will be hard. It will be easy to record your gratitude when your son is admitted to Tufts University, and your daughter wins the lead in the school play. But even now, during these dark times, you may notice that there is plenty for which to be grateful. Maybe you took a long walk with your dog. Maybe the sun was out. Maybe your best friend called and told you that she loves you.

I invite you to focus on gratitude over the next week. What are you grateful for? If you wish to deepen the thought, you can start your own gratitude journal. If you find yourself grateful for a certain person, I invite you to write them a thank you letter. I often end my presentations this way, passing out thank you notes to the audience. It fills my heart to watch people write their thank you notes, pens flying, their eyes filling with loving tears.

It is a terrible time right now. This is true. We are all enduring hardship, deprivation and worry. There is no way around this fact. It is a very hard time. But still, I invite you to try, even in these challenging days, to notice your blessings. Focus on gratitude at least once a day. If you do, I predict you will feel a happier outlook and a brighter perspective about your life.

Stay tuned, next blog, to learn about the O in G.O.A.L.S. You learned the G; G is for gratitude. What do you think the O is for?

#psychology #coping #mentalhealth #pandemic

Five Grounding Tips for a Strange Time

We live in a quarantined area, and have been instructed to stay home as much as possible. I have never been so grateful to live in a four-bedroom house. We have eight rooms, nine if you include the screened-in porch. As a new empty-nester, I had wondered if we had too much house and whether we should downsize. Now, every day I exclaim, “At least we have all these rooms. We can move around. If you get tired of one room, you can sit in another.”

It’s come to that. 5 people and 1 dog, rotating in 9 rooms.

Anxiety zooms in our air, with so many things to worry about. There is the obvious anxiety about our health and the health of our loved ones. Then there is the economic news. I myself haven’t even peeked at my retirement savings yet. I’m hoping I still have some. All our plans seem to be up in the air. Vacation to Japan? Cancelled. Tickets for West Side Story? Cancelled. Dinner with friends? Cancelled.

Will our kids return to college? Will our companies close? Will we have jobs? Will we ever be able to retire? Will there be enough food for everyone? How long will we have to stay in these 9 rooms?

I have no answers for any of these questions. I feel the same crushing pressures as everyone else. Still, I feel some obligation, as a psychologist and author of this resilience blog, to offer helpful thoughts about how to manage this strange time. I will do my best. (I also know that anything I say today might seem dated or hopelessly naïve in a week’s time.) But, for this week, here is my best advice.

I have created a new home base for myself, with new daily rules. Every day, I try to do the same five things. Each of these activities makes me calmer, happier, and/or more at peace. For ease of remembering, think of the mnemonic M.E.C.C.A. (Mecca being both a holy city, and a word that means “center”). What is M.E.C.C.A.?

1) Meditate: Start your day with a brief meditation. I listen to “Headspace,” which offers a ten minute daily guided meditation (learn more about it here: https://www.headspace.com/). To be clear, every morning I wake up and think, “Oh let’s just skip meditating.” I always want to barrel ahead with my daily activities. But, when I engage in meditation, I feel much better: clear headed, relaxed and refreshed. It is a wonderful way to start the morning.

2) Exercise: Every day, I exercise. The gym is no longer an option, but I can walk the dog, or hop on our elliptical trainer, or lift hand weights. I’m not as active as I’d like to be, but it is better than nothing. And as with meditation, every time after I finish exercising, I think “Oh I feel so much better.”

3) Create: Do you play an instrument? Do you write? Paint? Quilt? Perhaps you used to practice a creative art, years ago, when you had more time. Now your flute case lies dusty and untouched in the corner. Yes, I know you probably suck and you used to be so much better. But pick up that flute anyway. You have time to practice now, and your skills will come back faster than you think. Creativity is one of the best coping tools we have. By making music, or writing, we can take our feelings and transform them into something else: something beautiful or moving or cathartic.

4) Connect: Reach out to your loved ones. In my house, we have dinner together every night, and usually wind up playing a game or watching a movie afterwards. I’m also trying to call my friends and family more. I grant you, our conversations are not riveting. No one is doing anything, so there isn’t much to talk about other than Covid 19 and whether you have toilet paper. Just the same, call your friends. Call your aunt. Call your grandparents.

5) Accomplish: Every day, do something you have put off doing. You know those projects that you never have time for? My house was filled with those, but not anymore! I cleaned off and dusted my catastrophically messy desk. I filed old papers, and shredded financial documents. Then I organized my closet, turning hangers in the opposite direction so I would have a system to know if I ever wear that shirt or if I should give it away. (This system is currently thwarted by the fact that I only wear sweatshirts now, but I’m hoping for the best). Then, I shined my silver earrings. Every day, I do something that I normally wouldn’t have time for.

No one knows how long we will drift in this odd limbo, hiding in our homes, hoping for better news. Jokes abound on the internet, “Today is Wednesday, for anyone who needs to know.” My recent favorite was, “It’s 9:00 PM. Time to take off your day pajamas and put on your night pajamas.” I hope you can make the best of this strange time, caring for yourself and keeping a healthy grounding routine. You can find me meditating and exercising (reluctantly), playing the piano with returning skill and calling my friends. You can also find me in the back of my closet, throwing out metal hangers and replacing them with plastic ones.

I will return with more thoughts on resilience and getting through tough times. We will find our way back to normal, at some point. For now, notice that sunlight streaming through your window. Take care and chin up. China got through this, and so will the U.S.A. Humanity has gotten through all kinds of difficult times, and we will too,

Be healthy, make art, stay connected, and keep busy.

#resilience #psychology #coping #socialDistancing #Covid19 #mentalhealth