This Might Be the End of Something, But It’s Not the End of You: Self-Forgiveness and Other Pandemic Realities
“Writing is
the way I build home ... There has been so much pain and loss and chaos, but
the routine of writing is how I sort it out, how I withstand it. The stories we
tell or the songs we sing or the wealth of immaterial resources are all that we
can count on ... That’s where my imagination practice resides. That’s where my
heart resides.”
—Saidiya Hartman
Oh hi again! It’s me, again. Two posts in two months? Whoa now, let’s not get crazy. Welcome back to this blog all about feelings and feeling too much! A.K.A. things that are much more of a curse than a blessing during a pandemic and global health crisis.
I hope this finds everyone well and healthy (at least physically) and that everyone is continuing to stay safe and act responsibly. This is usually where your employer’s email would say something about “adapting to this new reality.” This new reality, ladies and gentlemen. Please, can someone tell me what exactly that means? To paraphrase a screenshot of a tweet that I saved from Tumblr, because clearly I have so much time on my hands literally always, “No YOU live in a society. I live in a meticulously crafted daydream world that I’ve been using as a coping mechanism since childhood.”
If we’ve spoken lately, chances are I’ve told you how nervous and anxious I am at the thought of places reopening and people not taking government guidelines seriously, JUST because things have reopened and apparently it’s possible to convince yourself of just about any reality if you try hard enough. The term “delusional” has taken on a whole new meaning this year, dear reader. And obviously I’ve spent enough time thinking about why it makes me nervous, because most of the activities people have been getting back to are a bunch of extroverted, heterosexual nonsense that I would have no interest in participating even if the world wasn’t in a crisis. I’m also just a control freak who has always intensely followed the rules his entire life, and while that may have been to my detriment in certain areas of life, I’m here to tell you that following the rules during a pandemic will most probably end up in my favor. Because, y’know, I won’t get sick and die. Not to toot my own horn or anything.
I’ve been lucky enough that my therapist has continued talking to her clients over phone appointments, which was intensely awkward back in March—but now not so much, because March was at least five years ago now, right? And obviously we have talked about how nervous and anxious I get at the thought of things reopening, because there is a lot of anxiety associated with a pandemic. That’s a given. News anchors have been repeating the same tired anxiety tips for four months. It’s not new. But what is new—at least to me—is that perhaps a lot of the anxiety I had surrounding things “returning to normal” is that I’m not satisfied with the normal people are returning to. Yes, people disregarding guidelines and deluding themselves into thinking this is all over pisses the shit out of me. But what bothers me more is the belief system that in order to accomplish anything, we always have to be busy, tired, strung out, constantly hustling, constantly hopping around from one thing to the next. Which is exactly where I was quite literally right before the pandemic hit. And I don’t want to go back.
I was, in part, a creature of my own making, believing that if I could find a way to constantly feel fulfilled all the time, all of my anxieties and neuroses would disappear forever, never to be heard from again. But constantly rushing around from one thing to the next does nothing but make me an anxious mess of nerves, unable to relax, unable to unclench, because my mind is always thinking and mentally preparing for what’s next. And while I can confirm that most of my anxiety throughout April and May was caused in part by the fact that half the world was shut down with no idea of when it might return, I was also anxious because it had been a long time since I had been able to sit down with myself and just be. I don’t even remember the last time I felt comfortable just being. I don’t remember the last time I didn’t feel compelled to define myself by what I’ve accomplished instead of who I am.
There’s also the issue that I tend to unnecessarily punish myself for things beyond my control. As I previously shared, I was not in a great place immediately before the pandemic began. I was juggling school, freelance writing jobs, a podcast, and a part-time job. But if you scroll back even just a few months before that, I felt empty. Unfulfilled. I always have to have a drive and a purpose, even when I end up flooring the gas pedal to a place I don’t want to be. The point is: life tends to change very quickly. At the end of 2019, I felt unfulfilled and directionless. In the beginning of 2020, I found fulfilment and direction again—but at a cost. And when the cost finally took its toll and I had a series of meltdowns at the beginning of March, I began punishing myself. I chose to overwhelm myself with a crazy schedule. I could have said no. I could have prioritized myself better, and I didn’t. And then the world shut down indefinitely, not giving me the chance to make things right the only way any of us really knew how: keep going. So, subconsciously, I felt like everything was my fault. Couldn’t get a haircut for three months? Well, I stressed myself out to the point of no return, so I don’t deserve a haircut. The library is closed indefinitely? Well, I stressed myself out to the point of no return, so I don’t deserve to go the library. These are privileges and luxuries that are no longer available to you because you SUCK! (Who is this bitch that lives inside my head? Who hurt her?)
For the record, none of us “deserves” anything outside of feeling and being safe, having someplace to live, having food to eat, having clothes to wear, having access to healthcare, and having people in your life who love you. My anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder have always had this tendency to convince me that if I don’t do everything in my power to make things perfect or do everything I could possibly do and more to control the outcome of a given situation, then I don’t deserve any happiness whatsoever. Something bad happens? Surely it’s something I did. The ironic thing is that I even read an article at the beginning of the pandemic addressed to people with OCD, telling them that nothing they have done has caused this crisis. I nodded along to the words, knowing and believing 100% that it doesn’t work like that and OCD is always a liar. But, much like the unwashed miscreants deluding themselves into believing the pandemic is over, I was also deluding and silently punishing myself. Because apparently, in the grand scheme of things, my personal stress is so important and profound that it has evil powers that make bad things happen, like a global pandemic.
On top of that garbage, there’s also just been good old pandemic anxiety of the regular brand—one that I’m sure everyone is experiencing and processing in their own ways. Whether we like it or not, we’ve all been forced to buy into this capitalist nightmare that we are only good and worthy when we are booked and busy. Even when we used to talk about how much of a bullshit narrative that is, we were still tied to it one way or another. We would share memes and tweets about prioritizing our mental health, but we could only go so far. We always said we need to normalize resting, but it wasn’t until our global economies shut down did people actually listen. Or maybe they didn’t. I’m sure there are many people who didn’t let a pandemic slow them down. But if you don’t take something valuable away from this year and apply it to yourself at a later date, whatever life might look like then, you’ve missed the point entirely.
It’s not normal to put so much pressure on ourselves to succeed and accomplish. It’s not normal to define yourself solely by your accomplishments and achievements. It’s not normal to put the responsibility on yourself not to disappoint people. It is normal, however, to rest, refuel, make mistakes, and keep going. And if there’s a God watching over this vicious hellfire of a year, then hopefully our new version of “keep going” will look a lot better than it used to.
This might be the end of something, but it’s not the end of you.
(Recommended listening for this essay: “For Yourself” by Ralph, “Strip Me” by Natasha Bedingfield, and “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift)
Follow It's Not That Deep on Instagram — @areyouthereanxiety — and listen to my playlist of mental health songs on Spotify and Apple Music
Oh hi again! It’s me, again. Two posts in two months? Whoa now, let’s not get crazy. Welcome back to this blog all about feelings and feeling too much! A.K.A. things that are much more of a curse than a blessing during a pandemic and global health crisis.
I hope this finds everyone well and healthy (at least physically) and that everyone is continuing to stay safe and act responsibly. This is usually where your employer’s email would say something about “adapting to this new reality.” This new reality, ladies and gentlemen. Please, can someone tell me what exactly that means? To paraphrase a screenshot of a tweet that I saved from Tumblr, because clearly I have so much time on my hands literally always, “No YOU live in a society. I live in a meticulously crafted daydream world that I’ve been using as a coping mechanism since childhood.”
If we’ve spoken lately, chances are I’ve told you how nervous and anxious I am at the thought of places reopening and people not taking government guidelines seriously, JUST because things have reopened and apparently it’s possible to convince yourself of just about any reality if you try hard enough. The term “delusional” has taken on a whole new meaning this year, dear reader. And obviously I’ve spent enough time thinking about why it makes me nervous, because most of the activities people have been getting back to are a bunch of extroverted, heterosexual nonsense that I would have no interest in participating even if the world wasn’t in a crisis. I’m also just a control freak who has always intensely followed the rules his entire life, and while that may have been to my detriment in certain areas of life, I’m here to tell you that following the rules during a pandemic will most probably end up in my favor. Because, y’know, I won’t get sick and die. Not to toot my own horn or anything.
I’ve been lucky enough that my therapist has continued talking to her clients over phone appointments, which was intensely awkward back in March—but now not so much, because March was at least five years ago now, right? And obviously we have talked about how nervous and anxious I get at the thought of things reopening, because there is a lot of anxiety associated with a pandemic. That’s a given. News anchors have been repeating the same tired anxiety tips for four months. It’s not new. But what is new—at least to me—is that perhaps a lot of the anxiety I had surrounding things “returning to normal” is that I’m not satisfied with the normal people are returning to. Yes, people disregarding guidelines and deluding themselves into thinking this is all over pisses the shit out of me. But what bothers me more is the belief system that in order to accomplish anything, we always have to be busy, tired, strung out, constantly hustling, constantly hopping around from one thing to the next. Which is exactly where I was quite literally right before the pandemic hit. And I don’t want to go back.
I was, in part, a creature of my own making, believing that if I could find a way to constantly feel fulfilled all the time, all of my anxieties and neuroses would disappear forever, never to be heard from again. But constantly rushing around from one thing to the next does nothing but make me an anxious mess of nerves, unable to relax, unable to unclench, because my mind is always thinking and mentally preparing for what’s next. And while I can confirm that most of my anxiety throughout April and May was caused in part by the fact that half the world was shut down with no idea of when it might return, I was also anxious because it had been a long time since I had been able to sit down with myself and just be. I don’t even remember the last time I felt comfortable just being. I don’t remember the last time I didn’t feel compelled to define myself by what I’ve accomplished instead of who I am.
There’s also the issue that I tend to unnecessarily punish myself for things beyond my control. As I previously shared, I was not in a great place immediately before the pandemic began. I was juggling school, freelance writing jobs, a podcast, and a part-time job. But if you scroll back even just a few months before that, I felt empty. Unfulfilled. I always have to have a drive and a purpose, even when I end up flooring the gas pedal to a place I don’t want to be. The point is: life tends to change very quickly. At the end of 2019, I felt unfulfilled and directionless. In the beginning of 2020, I found fulfilment and direction again—but at a cost. And when the cost finally took its toll and I had a series of meltdowns at the beginning of March, I began punishing myself. I chose to overwhelm myself with a crazy schedule. I could have said no. I could have prioritized myself better, and I didn’t. And then the world shut down indefinitely, not giving me the chance to make things right the only way any of us really knew how: keep going. So, subconsciously, I felt like everything was my fault. Couldn’t get a haircut for three months? Well, I stressed myself out to the point of no return, so I don’t deserve a haircut. The library is closed indefinitely? Well, I stressed myself out to the point of no return, so I don’t deserve to go the library. These are privileges and luxuries that are no longer available to you because you SUCK! (Who is this bitch that lives inside my head? Who hurt her?)
For the record, none of us “deserves” anything outside of feeling and being safe, having someplace to live, having food to eat, having clothes to wear, having access to healthcare, and having people in your life who love you. My anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder have always had this tendency to convince me that if I don’t do everything in my power to make things perfect or do everything I could possibly do and more to control the outcome of a given situation, then I don’t deserve any happiness whatsoever. Something bad happens? Surely it’s something I did. The ironic thing is that I even read an article at the beginning of the pandemic addressed to people with OCD, telling them that nothing they have done has caused this crisis. I nodded along to the words, knowing and believing 100% that it doesn’t work like that and OCD is always a liar. But, much like the unwashed miscreants deluding themselves into believing the pandemic is over, I was also deluding and silently punishing myself. Because apparently, in the grand scheme of things, my personal stress is so important and profound that it has evil powers that make bad things happen, like a global pandemic.
On top of that garbage, there’s also just been good old pandemic anxiety of the regular brand—one that I’m sure everyone is experiencing and processing in their own ways. Whether we like it or not, we’ve all been forced to buy into this capitalist nightmare that we are only good and worthy when we are booked and busy. Even when we used to talk about how much of a bullshit narrative that is, we were still tied to it one way or another. We would share memes and tweets about prioritizing our mental health, but we could only go so far. We always said we need to normalize resting, but it wasn’t until our global economies shut down did people actually listen. Or maybe they didn’t. I’m sure there are many people who didn’t let a pandemic slow them down. But if you don’t take something valuable away from this year and apply it to yourself at a later date, whatever life might look like then, you’ve missed the point entirely.
It’s not normal to put so much pressure on ourselves to succeed and accomplish. It’s not normal to define yourself solely by your accomplishments and achievements. It’s not normal to put the responsibility on yourself not to disappoint people. It is normal, however, to rest, refuel, make mistakes, and keep going. And if there’s a God watching over this vicious hellfire of a year, then hopefully our new version of “keep going” will look a lot better than it used to.
This might be the end of something, but it’s not the end of you.
(Recommended listening for this essay: “For Yourself” by Ralph, “Strip Me” by Natasha Bedingfield, and “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift)
Follow It's Not That Deep on Instagram — @areyouthereanxiety — and listen to my playlist of mental health songs on Spotify and Apple Music
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