This is a true story about COVID, mental health and the discovery of Self. With a shoutout to Viktor E. Frankel and his masterpiece, Man’s Search for Meaning.
Let’s start with this…
Remember the bombshell that was COVID-19 back in March 2020? Ha! Of course you do! Heck, it upended our lives with lockdowns, hoarding and social isolation. And backyard BBQs with the cats.
For many, the pandemic challenged our mental health in ways we could never, ever predict.
When COVID hit, I was employed as a special educator in a lovely private preschool in Connecticut. During the lockdown, I counseled parents virtually, helping them understand how the dramatic changes brought about by the virus might be impacting their children.
Employed, but at home like everyone else, I began to write stories about my pandemic experiences. Sending them to friends and families, I received positive feedback. “You’re a funny writer.” “Your stories are hilarious.” This was deeply gratifying and turning my writing into a blog focused me as I waited for school to reopen in the summer. I was thrilled to return in July.
Ah, life was back to normal! With masks!
However, in October 2020, the director eliminated my position. Boom! The school was having financial difficulties. Boom! And, with COVID still an issue, my moving from classroom to classroom was not safe. Boom! I was out on my ass. Unemployed. Shell-shocked. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Although feeling a bit like, “how can this happen to me?” I was in decent shape for the rest of 2020. My Donnee and I spent Thanksgiving at a charming Connecticut B&B at which we were the only guests. I enjoyed our picturesque New England snowstorms. And the ongoing antics of Fluffypuss and Peekaboo.
WHO AM I? A Serious Mental Health Question
Then in January 2021, I began to go south, suddenly hit upside the head with anxiety, panic attacks and depression. My thinking became increasingly negative and I saw the future as empty and bleak.
At first, these feelings came on every few days or so. Then they became more frequent and harder to manage. While I figured that my despair was born of unemployment, that knowledge wasn’t enough to mitigate the fear beginning to overwhelm me. I was, quite frankly, coming unglued.
You see, I’d built my life and identity around being a working woman with multiple careers, each of which I embraced enthusiastically and with which I experienced a satisfying level of success. Defined by my talents, credentials and dedication, and reliant on the positive feedback I received from employers and co-workers, I felt safe inhabiting the working woman persona I’d created in my early 20’s.
In fact, I remember saying to anyone who’d listen, “I LIVE to WORK. I will never retire. I will keep working until I’m dragged, kicking and screaming, into a nursing home. That’s just who I am.”
Of course, I never had a back-up plan for a crisis like COVID. Nobody did. But, more to the point, I never understood that not having interests other than work was a sign that I’d limited my development as a whole person. And my mental health. I took pleasure and felt whole in the workplace. Period.
And then unemployment rolled around and the shit hit the fan. Circumstances over which I’d no control swept away the identity-bolstering construct I relied on to tell me who I am. I was grateful for my lovely home in a beautiful neighborhood, an empathic husband, and two darling cats. But none of this countered the absolute catastrophic loss I felt at being marooned without work or anywhere to go.
The obvious way out was to find a new job. But I couldn’t. Being in a high-risk group because of my age, I feared a return to the classroom, especially as the Delta variant became increasingly pervasive and lethal.
Second, and more painful, as I became overwhelmed by my feelings, I doubted my ability to perform well in the workplace. My mind seemed increasingly unreliable as each day brought an ever-intensifying sense of confusion and disorientation. The days felt empty. More to the point, I felt empty. My life had changed dramatically and I could barely stand it.
A MENTAL HEALTH MIRACLE: Help Was on the Way
Finally, in March 2021, my therapist urged me to enroll in an intensive outpatient mental health program at Silver Hill Psychiatric Hospital. “Let’s get you in as soon as possible.” Within a week, one of the hospital’s loving and empathic social workers had assessed me. My insurance coverage was in place. I was ready.
In early April, I started a Zoom-based Dialectical Behavior Therapy program in which I spent three hours, three mornings a week, learning to better manage my disturbing emotions. And to come to terms with the radical change that had turned me upside down and inside out.
I was so grateful to have a safety net like this to carry me forward. It felt like a miracle. And I had somewhere to be, nine hours a week!
LEARNING NEW LESSONS: Change Can Bring New Meaning
As I went through four months of group therapy, I became better able to evaluate how irrational many of my fears were. I began to see that I had to define my Self separate from my work. To better articulate what made life meaningful in terms of what I valued rather than what I did.
Very gradually, the anxiety, panic attacks and depression decreased in intensity and frequency. But I knew that I would never again be the working woman of pre-COVID. The trauma of corrosive doubt and the ever-present pandemic threat made it clear I had to find a new way to live.
And the questions remained. How can I shape a new life that’s not at all what I envisioned? Who was I really, now that I’d been stripped of the workplace constructs I’d so studiously pursued for 50 years?
As I participated in the outpatient program and dealt with reshaping my life in a way I could live with, I decided to volunteer.
REACHING OUT: Feeling Stronger and More Hopeful
My first step was to email the associate director of our local community center, offering to lead a parent support group and a parent-child playgroup. I also mentioned, as an aside, that I’d had a career in public relations and worked as an actor and acting teacher. Never once did it occur to me that my work in show biz would be what attracted me to her.
“We’re restarting our theater program and I would love you to teach an acting class for us.” After I turned my head around to see who she was talking to, I realized she’d noticed my brief reference to teaching acting. And then she talked about her dream to revive community theater at the center.
Listening to her articulate her vision, I could feel stirrings of delight in my heart. Is there a possibility that I could return to one of the great joys of my life? Could I once again be an acting teacher and, just maybe, also lead a parent support group? And a parent/child playgroup?
But she was hot to trot on the acting class so I wrote up a description for her marketing department and immediately set to work developing a syllabus. The class was announced and no one signed up. The associate director delayed the start by one week. Again, no one signed up. “I very, very much want to see your class happen. If not now, then we’ll try again in January.”
Simultaneously I had reached out to other non-profits, including one that ran a program to support grieving teens. I submitted paperwork about my work history and lack of criminal credentials. Volunteer coordinators promised to keep me in mind.
IN CONCLUSION: Gratitude and Thanks
At this moment, my life feels a bit on hold, but I know that healing is taking place. My increasing ability to withstand ambiguity and change, while remaining hopeful about the future, is a measure of my strength as a human being. And my mental health. I’m beginning to understand that I can choose my attitude: acceptance of what is — flavored with purpose and optimism. Action about the future and mindfulness of today.
It’s even occurred to me that I may be stronger now than when I was working my ass off because I only have my Self to rely on. Work is not me; I am not work. And I can make new meaning, one day at a time.
After this terribly tough time, what, you may ask, do I value? What makes my life feel purposeful? Let’s see…
Making others laugh. Helping children and families develop beyond their perceived limits. Being a loving spouse and cat mother. Being a good neighbor, aunt, sister and friend. Guiding others to fulfill their dreams.
Of course, when people ask me if I’m retired, I still answer that question with an emphatic “no! I am NOT retired!” I have more to give to the world, more laughs to share, and more, much more to create. And I’m not going to let COVID get the best of me.
My journey to mental health is not over. But the road ahead seems smoother. I’m grateful and hopeful.
In closing, I want to thank my therapist who understood how desperate I felt; the remarkable staff of Silver Hill hospital; Marsha Linehan, Ph.D., who developed Dialectical Behavior Therapy and offered it to the world for free; and, most of all, Don Perley, my angel on earth and the love of my life.
“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ― Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
Amy,
I just read your new story and I absolutely LOVE it! It’s my favorite so far.
Really, it is so well written and deeply moving. And it is brave.
Very proud of you for choosing hope and, as Frankl says, taking control of your attitude, which is incredibly hard of course, especially when the going gets rough…
Bravo!
Rick
Thank you, Rick. As Emily Dickinson said, “Hope is the thing with feathers.” It’s everywhere. In the air. Inside of us. We’ve got to remember that.
Your story (it isn’t a story, it’s life) is very compelling. It shows, as human beings, how vulnerable we are. Your story can help others learn that they are not alone in coping with life. I wish I had learned this earlier in my life. Thanks for sharing.
Muriel, I guess the big lesson is that we’re not alone in facing both ordinary and existential life challenges.
Hi Amy. thank you for sharing your inspiring reflection on your process of understanding the meaning of life for you. Life is a process and many of us don’t stop to gather the circumstances and sort out the differences between reacting to those circumstances and putting them in a constructive perspective. Our life’s journey is ever unfolding and is a continuum that can be exciting as we transcend the barriers. I have gotten a lot of self-realization reading your post. I am more than my circumstances, as I assert we all are.
Love to you and Don.
Norm
Norm, this is a daily challenge for me and now I see for so many others. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Good share. I posted it on Facebook. We grew up with the understanding that being a “professional” was like professing a calling: it was who we were, not what we did. I always found that I had enough interests or hobbies that I never had time to do. Now I have the time.
“Have a nice day unless you’ve made other plans”
That’s it — in a nutshell. For me, working was who I was.
This is beautifully written. Heartfelt and inspiring.
I guess this was truly a labor of love. Thank you for reading.
Nice synopsis of what’s happening with you. Been there a few times with major life changes. Keep the basics going and look for new and different things to add to your days. Best thing you’re already doing is trying to help others as that takes you out of yourself and looking at others. This is just a regrouping time
Louise, you are wise! Yes, the idea is to support others in ways that reflect our values, skills, and spirituality.
How wonderful of you to share this story. I learned a lot about you and myself as well.
So I guess I achieved my goal!