Hard Reset
Help came to me this month. Something to pull me off the ground and set me upright. A friend whom I’ve known since undergrad reached out for a chat. She, like most of my friends, has been worried about me—as I have been for myself, tbh—and she was adamant we speak. We talked for two hours. It’s too soon to tell exactly how life-changing our conversation was, but by its end, I found myself with a coach (free-of-charge) and a plan.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, and it for-damn-sure will take me a while to piece myself back together, build, and thrive again, but we start with what’s most important: setting a strong foundation in the form of a healthier body. Self-actualization is best realized—and supported—when one treats their mind and body well. I say this chomping on my second pack of Biscoff cookies today, but I promise I am doing better.
Speaking of promises, Coach, as she heretofore shall be called, had me create three promises to myself that I would keep as part of our work together.
Hour-long walk every day (including weekends).
Limit alcohol to Tuesdays at Bowling and one bottle of wine a weekend.
Spend a moment every day to honor and thank God and the ancestors, and ask for their help when needed.
There are additional objectives, like taking a deep dive through my LinkedIn for contacts I could reach out to regarding employment and sit down and freakin’ write, already, but those three promises are my non-negotiable basics.
The “Heavenly Walks,” as I’ve come to call them this last month, have been the most mood-changing. You’d be surprised by how quickly you adapt to adding a long walk, aided by a soothing podcast or your favorite relaxing music (I choose Gospel), to your day. The effect is quite elevating. For one, you know you’re giving your body the movement, and sunshine, it desperately needs. There’s a sense of accomplishment, having completed at least one task for the day. The walks, if I’m intentional, can be a beautifully meditative exercise in gratitude. Plus, those 10,000 steps a day that fitness influencers and the like brag about online really do hold up in the court of weighing myself every morning. I’ve dropped 5 pounds in the last 30 days, Biscoff cookies be-damned.
The reduction of alcohol also helped. One thing about depression...it’ll lean you into your vices; all the way in, if you’re not careful. Choosing to limit my alcohol intake has served me well. The weekends are the hardest, with nothing much to do except sit at home and ponder the limbo that is my life, and I confess to breaking the one-bottle-of-wine rule on a couple occasions, however, keeping in line, overall, with limiting my drinking feels good for both my mental health and my waistline.
My spiritual practice required more grit. I’m no stranger to praying every day, or even saying, “Hi,” to my sister and dad from time to time when I’m reminded of them. But asking for help was a different story. Coach helped me to see how angry I was, not just regarding my caregiving circumstance and the life-limbo I’m in, but also being angry at them for leaving me to deal with this shit all by myself. Coach’s recommendation was to start a “purge journal.” “Get angry at them,” she said. “Your sister, your dad, God. They can take it. And your anger is valid. Write it all out.”
And so I did. I let them have it! Things came up in my purge-journaling I haven’t thought about in years. And other things which I had only allowed myself to think and not feel, let alone voice. The exercise was surprisingly cathartic. And it cleared the energy to allow for a bit of space to ask for their help. With mom; with finding a job; with doing more than just surviving this caregiver assignment. If it is true, that the people we know who have passed on become our angels in the afterlife, standing at the ready to help us in this life, then it’s time to call the corners or whatever and submit my requests for help.
We shall see what they say...
Either way, I’m glad to be out of bed and moving my body. It has been a rejuvenating start.
