coronavirus Archives - The Land of Woo

Coronavirus is Forcing Me to Stick with Non-Striving

April 27, 2020by NicoleLeave a Comment

I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions, so — as I’ve mentioned on this blog — I surprised myself when I made one this year.

It’s one word: non-striving.

Picture of a book lying on its side with the title, LESS. — Photo by **Jess @ Harper Sunday** from **Pexels**

Non-striving doesn’t mean doing nothing or never pursuing your goals. Instead, non-striving is the idea of trying less and being more. I think of it as learning to ignore all of the “shoulds” floating around in my head that weigh me down instead of lifting me up.

In February, I happily adopted non-striving as my official resolution for 2020. Then, as we all now know, the coronavirus hit.

When the order came through to shelter-in-place, my striving mind immediately took charge. I frantically made a list of the projects I was going to tackle. What excuse could I possibly have for not being super productive if I’m forced to stay home?

Well, my striving mind never took into account the fact that I was not only working but also consuming hours of news while checking in on friends and family. Simple tasks, like grocery shopping or pumping gas, suddenly required herculean efforts involving masks or gloves or massive amounts of hand sanitizer. Meanwhile, towns were shutting down, millions of Americans were losing jobs, and thousand were falling ill.

Life in the time of coronavirus is not a time for striving. It is a time to try less and be more.

What does that mean to me?

First, it means being very clear with myself that I can’t “strive” my way out of this situation. I will get myself nowhere by making lists of projects I have no chance of completing while living through a pandemic.

Second, it means being more present to the realities of my daily life. I am trying to be less judgmental of my feelings, which swing wildly from sadness to frustration to happiness to anger. I am focused on being more patient with myself and asking what I genuinely need. Is that feeling hunger or restlessness? Am I anxious or overtired? Am I stressed or scared? Taking a moment to sit with my feelings instead of impulsively reacting to them helps me determine my next best action — which, let’s be honest, sometimes involves eating ice cream and watching Netflix.

I still strive, but in ways that bring meaning, purpose, or joy to my life. For instance, I am committed to keeping my body moving because otherwise, I get antsy and cranky. One way I stick to this is by walking outside while listening to audiobooks that I love. Another way? My friends and I meet up virtually every week to do Zoomba together.

I had no idea when I chose my New Year’s Resolution that a pandemic would sweep the globe, forcing me to stick with non-striving for better or for worse. So far, I’d say it’s for the better. Non-striving is the anchor that keeps me grounded as I face one of the most uncertain times of my life.

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So It Happened. I Lost My Sh*t.

April 14, 2020by NicoleLeave a Comment

This weekend marked four weeks of shelter-in-place, and the 30-day mark finally broke me.

Photo by **freestocks.org** from **Pexels**

It was inevitable that I was going to lose my sh*t at some point and that some point was Wednesday. That’s when I started to get annoyed. At EVERYTHING. Every little thing my husband said or did. Every news article I read. Every email or text message I received. Every dust bunny accumulating on my floor. Every cloud blocking out the sun. Every meal eaten at home. Every damn loading and unloading of the dishwasher. Don’t get me started on the handwashing.

As Wednesday progressed, nothing could make me feel better. Not meditation. Not food. Not talking to my husband. In fact, I didn’t want to talk to him. Every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to scream. I jumped on our elliptical to work out my rage, and even that enraged me. I suddenly hated that elliptical beyond all reason.

All I wanted was one of my favorite drinks to soothe me.

A perfectly brewed iced tea with honey. An iced coffee with almond milk from my favorite coffee shop. A glass of white wine from the fridge. A homemade Aperol Spritz.

But right now, I can’t have any of those things. For health reasons, I am on a low acid diet. That means I cannot drink coffee, black tea, caffeine, or alcohol. If I do, it gives me a massive sore throat.

Hence Wednesday’s rage. I’d reached my breaking point. I just wanted a drink that I knew would soothe me, and I couldn’t have it. And I was PISSED.

I paced back and forth in the kitchen as my husband watched me. I felt twitchy and slightly like a caged animal. Finally, I declared I was going to do a deep clean of our master bathroom.

It may sound crazy, but at that moment, cleaning the bathroom was the only thing I could think of that didn’t make me want to pull my hair out.

I grabbed paper towels, cleaning supplies, the vacuum, and I headed upstairs. I cleaned our bathroom as if my life depended on it. I scrubbed the toilet, I scrubbed the floor, I scrubbed the shower tiles. I Windexed and re-Windexed the bathroom mirrors after my environmentally friendly faux-Windex failed to do the job. I removed everything from the vanity countertops and wiped those down until there were no longer any traces of water spots or errant specks of toothpaste.

I expended as much energy as possible as humanly possible cleaning that bathroom, until I started to slowly unwind.

I could feel the tension drain as the bathroom began to look “normal.” No more ring around the toilet, splatters on bathroom mirrors, or gunk collecting behind the faucets. It calmed me to know this task had a very clear beginning, a middle and an end. And the reward for finishing the job was instantaneous. Unlike everything else in life right now, cleaning the bathroom presented no ambiguity, and it wasn’t complicated. It just was.

I have to say I never thought cleaning a bathroom could bring me salvation. But on Wednesday it did.

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Coronavirus and Our Collective Grief

March 27, 2020March 30, 2020by NicoleLeave a Comment

What a day. What a week. What a month.

Photo by **Rene Asmussen** from **Pexels**

The coronavirus pandemic is exhausting on so many levels. Nerves are fraying, and it’s only the beginning.

We are desperate for someone to fix this situation and return us to the lives we were living a few short weeks ago.

That is the dream.

That is not the reality.

The reality is that this pandemic is not going away any time soon. Our lives are changing. They will likely never be the same. This is very, very scary.

But I came across this article — That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief — in The Harvard Business Review of all places, and it has been incredibly helpful in helping me process what is happening.

It features a Q&A with David Kessler, the world’s foremost expert on grief. He co-wrote with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief through the Five Stages of Loss.

This is Kessler’s response when he’s asked if what we’re feeling is grief:

Yes, and we’re feeling a number of different griefs. We feel the world has changed, and it has. We know this is temporary, but it doesn’t feel that way, and we realize things will be different. Just as going to the airport is forever different from how it was before 9/11, things will change and this is the point at which they changed. The loss of normalcy; the fear of economic toll; the loss of connection. This is hitting us and we’re grieving. Collectively. We are not used to this kind of collective grief in the air.

Kessler is spot on. Not since 9/11 have we felt this type of collective grief. It feels foreign, scary, uncomfortable, and it makes us feel vulnerable.

But in the way of the #Woo, Kessler provides us with concrete ways we can deal with this grief and its resulting anxiety by using meditation and mindfulness techniques.

Come into the present, he says.

Let go of what you can’t control, he says.

Stock up on compassion, he says.

And he tells us to name what we’re feeling.

There is something powerful about naming this as grief. It helps us feel what’s inside of us. So many have told me in the past week, “I’m telling my coworkers I’m having a hard time,” or “I cried last night.” When you name it, you feel it and it moves through you. Emotions need motion. It’s important we acknowledge what we go through.

I am in love with those last two sentences, which I bolded.

If mindfulness, meditation, and exploring The Land of the Woo have taught me anything, it’s that burying our feelings and pretending they don’t exist is futile. It’s only through naming our emotions and giving them space that we can take back our power and learn to live with emotions rather than being defined by them.

“It’s absurd to think we shouldn’t feel grief right now,” Kessler says. “Let yourself feel the grief and keep going.”

That is advice I intend to follow as I head into another week of sheltering in place. If you have the time and the energy, I invite you to read the full article.

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A Sunset in Paris

March 23, 2020by NicoleLeave a Comment

A few years ago, my husband and I spent a week in Paris, leisurely strolling through the city’s streets and sipping coffee at its cafes.

One night, we decided to eat dinner at a tiny creperie. We got a window seat and ordered crepes and a carafe of cider.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Taxis slowed, scooters stopped, and pedestrians began to congregate on the sidewalk. Some people whipped out phones and started taking pictures. Others drove by and honked. Some pedestrians shielded their eyes.

“What’s happening?” my husband asked me.

While I had a better view than he did, I couldn’t see the cause of the commotion.

“I can’t tell,” I said. “But I’m going to go outside to see.”

Once on the street, I turned to the right and was gobsmacked by a breathtaking view. The setting sun was lined up perfectly between Paris’ low lying apartment complexes and office buildings as it sunk toward the horizon. The unobstructed view created a spotlight effect, where its light was blinding, and its heat was palpable.

The sunset brought the Paris neighborhood we were in to a standstill. Bystanders stood there, enthralled. Passengers asked their taxis to stop. Others jumped off motorcycles to capture the view. Some stood in the intersection with cameras, trying to find the right angle to capture the sun’s stunning display. We were momentarily connected, watching this gift from nature.

A few minutes later, it was over. The sun set. The taxis sped away. I went back to the restaurant. Pedestrian continued their journeys. Paris zoomed back to life.

But I think of that moment now. How everyday occurrences can stop us in our tracks. How nature can be healing. That however diverse we may be, a beautiful sunset can connect us.

In this scary time, we are facing a lot of uncertainty. But every day, the sun rises, and it sets. It can serve as a reminder to pause, to take in its beauty, to breathe deeply, and to remember we are not alone — even if it may feel that way right now.