Experience, Strength, and Hope for COVID-19

Dolly Parton famously said, “Storms make trees take deeper roots.” Each one of us is filled with our own brand of wisdom; Dolly Parton’s brand of wisdom is one of my favorites. Are deeper roots a good thing? I’m not sure, but they don’t sound bad. Not so hidden in this piece of tree-trivia is an analogy for human hardship. What happens to us when we go through something difficult in our lives? Are we changed for the better? Do we become more resilient? Or are we weakened? I don’t know that either. Even so, I know that hardship has changed me, and over time, I have found gratitude for the growth I have experienced as a result. I am grateful to be exactly who I am, right now, in this moment.

As COVID-19 tears apart our routines and our economies, the human race faces one of the greatest shared hardships in generations. All of us will know fear during this time; we face financial insecurity and infirmity of health. We all know someone who will become ill, and many of us will lose someone we love, forever. The reality of how little we can individually control has never been so poignant on such a broad scale.

Meanwhile, all of these chirpy optimistic memes are pretty annoying. “Learn an instrument.’ … “Study a language.” … “Organize your apartment.” Really? Instead, how about I eat three jars of cookie butter, binge Netflix, and struggle to walk the dog. Some people seem unphased. Others recede beneath their blankets and sink into the persistent ache of depression. Some of us vigilantly disinfect and social distance; others act as if they have no clue about the deadly pandemic, as they flagrantly defy the public health guidance that bombards us on every media outlet. To be fair, we are getting some mixed messages from our leadership and from the media. Today, I was listening to a radio station from my hometown in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and the host was inviting people to share about people who have broken quarantine. His tone was flippant. Callers told stories of their grandmothers having secret lunches with their friends and of themselves sneaking off to get their hair dyed. Meanwhile in NYC, many of us are already mourning lost friends and loved ones. I wasn’t laughing.

As we flounder about in our various stages of grief, as we dig into our action, our inaction, our outright denial, how do we move forward and stay sane? How do we come out of this stronger? With deeper roots, so to speak? Or at all? I certainly don’t have the answer; this is a new situation for all of us. However, I have known hardship, and I can share that hardship and how I got through.

Some of you may already know this. I am in recovery from a severe drug addiction. I don’t normally blast that experience to the world, but I am open about it when I am asked. At my lowest, I contemplated suicide and took steps in that direction. At one point, I ingested so many drugs that I turned yellow with jaundice.

At the beginning of my recovery journey, and for months thereafter, I dragged myself to meeting after meeting, hoping I might feel a bit better. Sometimes I did, but often I didn’t. Nevertheless, I didn’t drink or use. I got a sponsor and I told her my entire truth. I became deeply honest with myself and with others. Overtime, I felt better. I began to feel joy again. I found human connection and a measure of optimism. I found accomplishment and even leadership. As the world turns upside down with the coronavirus pandemic, the tools that helped me through recovery have become a wellspring of strength.

I think about recovery like learning to dance, like mastering a sport, or like learning virtuosity with a musical instrument. You learn to use hundreds of muscles you didn’t even know you had. To make it worse, many of those muscles have bad habits built in, bad habits that may never fully go away. Nevertheless, after a billion awkward, disconnected movements, you find yourself dancing.

It wouldn’t be possible to put my entire recovery tool belt into a single blog post; I can’t describe every muscle. But, I can share some of the tools I have found most valuable. Remember, I can only speak for my personal understanding and hope that something I write might help someone else-- 

Take one day at a time. When that doesn’t work, take one hour at a time, one minute, one second. Or, simply take the next right action.

Ask for help. I don’t get through hardship by myself. When I am hurting, I ask for help. I call friends. I call my mom. I call strangers. I call anyone and everyone until someone picks up, someone who is willing to listen. Often when I ask for advice, I don’t like what I hear. I am even ungrateful. But, I have learned to hold my tongue and to listen. Something of value usually makes it through my thick skull.

Rigorous honesty. I am honest with the people around me, and perhaps more importantly, I am deeply and rigorously honest with myself. I don’t tell everything to everyone, but I do tell everything to someone. Honesty does not preclude kindness. I have learned to be fast with compliments and slow with criticism. Wait a day before you level a critique. Hell, wait two days.

Take an action, any action. When you feel stuck, take one small step. Remember that honesty muscle you have been flexing? Use it to pick something small you can do right now.

Patience. If I truly don’t know what to say or to do, I do nothing. More often than not, things become clear with a little time.

Stick with the winners. Go towards the people who take actions you admire and who radiate the kind of energy you want. 

Believe in something greater. I have a lot of issues with organized religion. Where I grew up, I regularly was told that I could expect hell, literal hell, for loving another man. It’s hard to trust a faith that tells you to go to hell. Nevertheless, belief and religion aren’t the same thing. Today, I believe in something beyond myself, and it’s okay if I can’t quite explain what that means. Maybe it is simply the connectedness of people or the magic of empathy. If you can’t find belief in other people, try believing in the magic of puppies. I am not in control of almost anything. I need a power greater than myself—be it God, human love, or puppy magic—to which I can turn things over. I need to Trust in that Power, especially in times of greatest uncertainty and overwhelm.

Listen with an open heart. Stories work for me, both telling mine and listening to others. There is a special magic in the listening. When I listen, I get the most when I choose to relate, to hear commonality, to connect. I have to work hard not to judge or to compare.

Gratitude. Gratitude is an action. Try this: Today, think of three things for which you are grateful. If that is too much, think of one. I’m grateful for my dog, Tucker. I’m grateful for my bed and comfy sheets. I’m grateful for cookie butter. Tomorrow, try writing them down. Then, try doing that every day. Try sharing your gratitude list with others and listening to their gratitude lists. Gratitude is a practice, and it is one tiny step towards optimism. Don’t expect to feel better all at once, or at all. Not right now. Know that the muscles will get stronger, if you keep using them a little bit each day.

One thing I have learned in recovery is I can’t really control my thinking. If I am lucky, I might control the direction of my thinking. ‘Choosing optimism’ is a nice idea, but such a choice is often unrealistic. If you reduce optimism to a simple choice, you skip a lot of steps. Optimism is a complex practice built over time; it is a dance. Maybe one day the dance will feel easy, but maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. Today, I will take the next right action. Today, I will trust.

In the spirit of listening, I encourage you to share your story. Have you known hardship? How did you get through? Don’t be afraid to be rigorously honest. I have found that honesty not only helps the listener, but it also helps me in the telling. Rigorous honesty is hard. I would love to hear your story, if you ever want to share. Email me. Call me. FaceTime. Zoom.

As the world struggles to find its footing in this battle against invisible enemies—the virus, economic uncertainty, and mental despair—I hope my experience, strength, and hope might bring you a little light in the darkness.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” My mother used to say this prayer under her breath when I would misbehave as a kid, so when I first heard these words from other addicts, they weren’t unfamiliar. Through my recovery journey, they have taken on a deep and nuanced meaning. I encourage you to take this prayer and say it whenever you feel overwhelmed or scared through this difficult time. At the very least, it can’t hurt.

In closing, I will share one final piece of wisdom, a quote from one of my favorite shows, The Magicians on SYFY: “There's something master magicians know: You can never fully control external circumstances -- they may even be actively hostile -- but you can control the ones inside you. And one hand is plenty.”