Sit Still for Once

I’ve talked with a lot of people about the state of their mental health since the start of the pandemic. Many are frustrated with their lives because they feel like they’ve either stood still, or worse, fallen behind somehow during this period. At some point after the initial lockdown ended, I began to notice that some of my friends were suddenly blocking off huge chunks of time in their schedule in order to study for graduate school exams. People who were previously happy with their employers started looking for new jobs. Massive home renovation projects were undertaken. Everyone was baking bread. All of a sudden, it seemed like nobody could bear to sit still.

I can relate to this, largely because I’ve spent the majority of my 26 years on this earth in perpetual motion. Everything that I do is a means to an end. There is no “now,” there is only “preparing for later.” I’m constantly making plans, thinking about the future (and consequently worrying about all of the different ways in which things could work out), rotating projects, and juggling deadlines. Within all of this, I also conveniently never seem to be able to find time for myself. I currently work two jobs, and even though sometimes I complain about not having enough free time, I know that I secretly thrive on the high of never taking my eye off of the horizon.

Or so I thought.

During all of this time that I spent constantly jumping from one thing to the next, I slowly became more and more aware that there’s always been an uncomfortable truth underneath all of this that I’ve never wanted to face. Whenever I felt it coming closer to the surface, I would move faster, take on a new project, work an extra few hours that day, and it would go away for a little while. But then each time, without fail, it would keep coming back. So, I would focus on some other stressor in my life (one that I was willing to face), and I would redirect my energy towards fixing that instead. This approach would inevitably only bring me a temporary sense of satisfaction before the cycle would repeat itself.

Several years ago, the truth came painfully close to the surface during a very stressful period of my life while I was living in New York. My boss had just been fired, I was dealing with a mild case of heartbreak after being ghosted by some jerk, and one of my best friends was moving out of our shared apartment, so my other roommate and I were desperately trying to find a third person to fill her space. I was overwhelmed, exhausted, and perpetually one step away from a nervous breakdown. I couldn’t escape the ever-present sense of panic and impending catastrophe. So, I decided to run.

Over the course of a three-minute phone call with my mother one Saturday morning, I made the decision to leave New York for good. As soon as I hung up, I felt immediate relief. I had done it! It was going to be ok, because none of it mattered anymore! I was leaving! I had taken charge of my life! I was in control! I’d managed to outsmart the truth once again by making the impulsive decision to move back to the Midwest, thereby putting hundreds of miles of physical distance between myself and my problems. (Do me a favor and re-read that sentence once again. Does it make any sense to you? If so, please consider seeking professional help).

Once I moved back home, everything seemed to feel right again. Over the course of the next six months, I started a great new job, began a new relationship with a wonderful guy, and moved into a beautiful new apartment. For a long period of time, I honestly believed that I had successfully managed to leave all of my issues behind in New York. I figured that if I could just keep moving and finding new ways to keep my mind occupied for the rest of my life, I would never have to confront the uncomfortable truth that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

Time for a reality check: That’s how you give yourself anxiety. And epilepsy, apparently.

My genius plan didn’t work because even though I had changed everything about my environment, I had continued to stay the same. I didn’t understand that by making the decision to “take control” of my life by leaving NYC, I was actually just giving into my anxiety and reinforcing the belief that I was not strong enough to accept the events of my life as they were unfolding. And once that truth finally came to light, I looked around and found that I had nowhere else to run.

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Practicing mindfulness, or learning how to be present in each moment, has been incredibly difficult for me. But it’s the only way to break this cycle of self-defeating strategies. I’ve had to learn how to sit still with myself and accept that my thoughts may make me uncomfortable sometimes. I’ve had to let go of my attachments to the future or the way things could have been, and instead learn how to accept each moment for what it is. The ways in which we experience the world are directly correlated to how we internalize the events of our past, so it benefits us to accept those events at face value and focus on them as lessons learned.

Now, I recognize that this may sound all fine and good, but at the same time, I know that the world feels like a scary place right now, and it’s completely understandable why people are avoiding living in the moment. It makes sense why people would want to numb themselves or at the very least just tune it all out for a little while. But that doesn’t change the fact that we are where we are, and for the most part, we have very little control over what comes next. Regardless of what happens, I want you to know that it’s ok to feel like you’re not where you wanted to be after this year, whether that’s in your personal life, professional life, or otherwise. We put so much pressure on ourselves to make it look like we have it all figured out, but let’s be completely honest: absolutely no one saw this coming, and now we are living in a perpetual period of adjustment. The unavoidable truth of 2020 is that the world as we knew it has disappeared, and we don’t know when it’s going to come back. And in the face of this uncertainty, you can choose to panic and flail, or you can sit still. Sit still and grieve the loss of the way things were supposed to be. Sit still and have compassion for yourself and others. Sit still and know that the darkness (in whatever form it takes) will not last forever.

My advice? Sit still. Or try sourdough.