In Times of War: How Will This End?

This was originally posted in April, 2022, as the Russian invasion of Ukraine was getting underway. It seems just as urgent now. 

At best, uncertainty is a difficult emotional state. We live in a world of routines, reliable cause-and-effect, and pattern recognition. We don’t need to test gravity every time we take a step, which is a good thing. We make assumptions about how people we know well (or people in general) are going to behave, based on their past actions. (Erratic behavior, whether due to mental illness, substance abuse, or misreading body language, can be traumatic, especially for children.) We anticipate many things, from the functioning of traffic lights to our own digestion to the reaction of a deer suddenly come upon in a meadow, based on our understanding of “how things work.” We use these strategies all the time without thinking about it. Having a reasonable sense of how events will unfold frees up mental (and physical) energy and gives us a sense of control over our lives.

Unexpected things happen, of course. Most of the time they’re ordinary bumps and bruises like burned dinner, a sprained ankle, a higher-than-normal electricity bill, or a traffic ticket.  They can be terrible: 9-11, a hurricane, the wildfires that swept through my part of the country a couple of years ago and resulted in my family evacuating for a month. A death in the family. Often we have little or no advance warning: it’s over, leaving us stunned or horrified or grief-stricken. We don’t get to vote on what happened, we only get to pick up the pieces afterwards. At other times, we have advance notice, like the wildfires or other weather events (but not earthquakes, lived through a couple of big ones, too) or Covid-19. We grab the kids and the pets and get out of town; we wear masks and stay home, and so forth. Even if there’s nothing we can do to protect ourselves, we often have a pretty good idea how things are going to go. Not always, of course. I remember staying glued to local news while camped out in our hotel room, anxiety eating away at me as the fires got closer to our house; I’d go to sleep certain that in the morning, our place would be ashes (but it survived with only a little storm damage).

I think war is fundamentally different. On a day-to-day basis, for those in the fighting zones, it must be like a monstrous union between the Chicxulub impact, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, and the Black Death. Adrenaline fight-or-flight panic overload survival time, one blast at a time. But for those of us watching the catastrophe unfold from afar, anxiety takes over as the dominant emotion. Watching one horrific event after another taxes our ability to pay attention to the present moment, and that is normal. It’s in our DNA to anticipate what will happen next. In our minds, we flee to the future.

Where will Russia strike next? What weapons will they use? What can we do to shield Ukrainian civilians? Will anything come of the peace talks? What will China—or India—do?

Enter the pundits and op-ed writers, predicting everything from the economic collapse of Russia and Putin being deposed, to Russia bludgeoning Ukraine into surrender to plots, to assassinate Zelenskyy to even wilder speculations. They speculate about increasingly grim futures: Is this a prelude to nuclear war? The collapse of Russia and a worldwide recession? We gobble up the columns, even though they often leave us feeling even more anxious and wretched than before.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

I think the answer lies in how predictability lowers anxiety, and the greater the stakes, the stronger the allure of a promised outcome. Not-knowing is a hellish limbo, and all too often it’s more intolerable than believing an authoritative voice with a fixed answer, no matter how grim.

I’ve started avoiding those opinion pieces. I see headlines while I’m scrolling through news, but I’m getting better at not clicking on them. Instead, I remind myself that masking anxiety with visions of doom is not likely to help anyone, beginning with myself. The truth is that I don’t have a crystal ball—and for sure the pundits don’t, either.

Working myself into a lather harms impairs my ability to think clearly. It cannot affect the outcome of the war.

Powerlessness is hard, and in evolutionary terms it’s dangerous. But when it is our true condition, the best way to manage it is by seeing it for what it is, and then finding ways to make a big difference in our own lives through good self-care and a small difference in the world.

In Times of War: A Flood of Horrific News

This was originally posted in April, 2022, as the Russian invasion of Ukraine was getting underway. It seems just as urgent now. 

After the 2016 Presidential election, I wrote a series of blog posts, “In Troubled Times.” In them I explored my evolving feelings of disbelief, shock, horror, despair, fury, and rising determination. “Nevertheless, She Persisted” became our mantra. I hoped that my words provided solace and inspiration to others, and the process of putting them down did for me.

Now we face new, often overwhelming challenges to sanity. I find myself reacting to the news of the war in Ukraine, and yet being unable to look away. Then my friend, Jaym Gates, wrote this on her Facebook page, posted here with her permission. 

Be really careful on social media for the next few days, friends. A lot of footage of Russian Federation war crimes, torture, rape, and murder just came out from Mariupol and other occupied cities. It is *horrific.* While it needs to be seen, shared, and remembered, it is going to be extremely traumatic to engage with.

If you're a survivor of abuse or trauma, in particular, please be especially careful.

And send support to Ukraine if you can. What's happening there is awful beyond words.

 My daughter, a psychology student, spotted this article by Heather Kelly in the Washington Post: How to stay up-to-date on terrible news without burning out.

It can be hard to look away from your phone and live your life while terrible events are unfolding, Kelly writes. There’s an unrelenting flow of images, videos and graphic updates out of Ukraine, filling social media, messaging apps and news sites.

It’s important to stay informed, engaged and even outraged. But it’s also important to pay attention to our own limits and mental health by taking breaks, looking for signs of burnout and consuming news in the smartest way possible.

That means setting some ground rules for the main portal connecting us to nonstop tragedy: our phones [or computers]. Here are some suggestions:

1.       Give yourself permission to take a break

It is okay to hit pause on the doom and go live your life, whether that means going outside with the kids or just losing yourself on the silly side of TikTok. It’s necessary for everyone’s mental health.

2.      Take time for self-care

A break is not a few minutes away from Twitter. Start with real breaks of at least 30 minutes to an hour so that your brain has time to come down from what you were last watching or reading. Ideally, you’ll put your phone down and take a technology break … or do some activities known to help with stress reduction, including exercise, mindfulness and meditation, journaling, engaging in hobbies and other activities you enjoy, spending time with family and friends, and doing faith-based activities if you practice.

3.      Change your news habits

Disinformation like propaganda is designed to capture your attention and elicit strong emotions, which can contribute to any anxiety you’re already feeling. Instead, stick with reputable sources. If you can wait, opt for deeply reported stories at the end of the day over constant smaller updates. Avoid using social media for news, but if you do, follow sources and people that contribute to your understanding of an issue rather than those that just generate more outrage.

4.      View your phone in black and white

In your smartphone’s accessibility settings there is an option to make the screen black and white instead of color. Some studies have indicated that turning this on leads to less screen time.

5.      Know when to ask for help

Look for signs that you are burned out or experiencing serious anxiety. First, consider whether you’re predisposed to reacting strongly to a particular issue. Anyone who has personally dealt with similar trauma or war in the past might find constant vivid social media posts about Ukraine to be triggering. [Italics mine.]

 

In conclusion: be kind to yourself, friends. Practice healthy boundaries and filters, and good self-care. Ask for help, whether it’s a friend or family member screening news for triggers, or a companion on a hike through the redwoods. Find safe people to reach out to. I'll be writing more about our journey together.

 

In Troubled Times: Bouncing Off the Bottom

Following the 2016 election, I wrote a series called In Troubled Times. It seems appropriate to post these again now

Last week I had a meltdown. It did not take the form of tears, irritability, or burning pots of

vegetables (as I am wont to do when I am upset and distracted). Instead, a horrible doomsday scenario popped into my mind and I could not talk myself out of it. Normally I’m not given to imagining worst-case no-hope futures. I try to keep in mind that no matter how distraught I am at any given moment, whatever is bothering me will not last forever. (This goes for good times, too. All life is impermanent.) This time, however, the dreadful sequence had taken hold and would not be dislodged.

So I did what I have been advised to do about other problems. I put my nightmare out there and asked folks what they thought. I often joke that we muddle along because we’re not all crazy on the same day. I figured that even though my brains had taken a sharp turn to crazyland, there were some saner people out there. Some agreed with me, others had their own dire forebodings, and still more had confidence that wiser heads would prevail.

After I’d calmed down, I had a serious moment of “What got into me?” I admit that I was a little embarrassed at losing it, especially in such a public way. I tried to make light of the situation by joking that aliens had eaten my brains (one of my stock explanations for moments of temporary insanity).

Then I remembered to be kind to myself. No harm had been done, after all, except to the illusion that I am always calm and rational. That’s a good illusion to shatter now and again for fear of being insufferable. Through painful experience, I’ve learned the importance of getting friendly with things that upset or frighten me. What if my lapse were doing me a favor and what might it teach me?

Once I got some distance from the moment of panic, I realized that I’d been expecting myself to progress in a straight, continuous manner. No backsliding or side tracks. No relapses. Recovery sometimes works like that, but more often it’s full of slips and detours, three steps sideways to every step forward. Just as when an alcoholic or addict “hits bottom” before they are ready to make substantial changes in their attitudes and lives, going “off the deep end” was a wake-up call for me. I saw then that I had been stressed by more than the political situation. We have two sick or injured pets, one of whom will likely not recover and will have to be euthanized. Several other challenging events have occurred that, taken singly, would be manageable, but all together on top of everything else pushed me off-center.

I’m grateful to the friends who offered sage (and not-so-sage) comments and thereby helped me to gain perspective on my own condition. I’m incredibly annoyed that the universe ganged up on me in so many ways all at once. I’m also appreciative of the experiences I’ve had (good, bad, insane) over the years that have shown me I am not invincible but that if I am willing to ask for help (and then take it), I am resilient and resourceful. I value everyone and everything in my life that helps me to keep my priorities straight.

Kindness of the Season

Amidst the wishes of merry this and joyous that, I am reminded that for far too many of us, the winter holidays are stressful to the point of crazy-making. The pressure to buy things we don't have money for, or even if we do, the pressure to find "just the right present" sends us into a frenzy of consumerism. Most of us eat and drink far too much, don't exercise enough, and in general let good intentions go by the wayside.

Then there are the family dynamics. The winter holidays are like putting dysfunctions old and new on steroids. Under the guise of ho-ho-ho bonhomie, whatever has been hurtful and unresolved resurfaces. Alcoholism and abuse emerge from the shadows. Unhealed wounds re-open.

The shortness of the days and the difficulty of getting fresh air and sunshine add to the gloom. Instead of green leaves and flowers, we find ourselves surrounded by frozen slog or mud. If we have any predisposition at all to Seasonal Affective Disorder, it perks right up.

To resist all this, we need black-belt self-care, not just for ourselves, but for the people we love. Kindness, simplicity...slowing down. Breathing. Stretching. Reflecting. Taking the time to feel what we need to nourish our bodies, our mind, our spirits.

The best holiday gift we can give is to be fully present with one another. To do that, most of us need reminding that we ourselves are precious. When our hearts are open, not only do we become fully alive, but we inspire and complete the aliveness of those around us.

In this, and every season, be peace. Be joy. Be love. Be yourself.

Tips to manage stress during the midterm elections

In The Conversation, a clinical psychologist offers advice on managing stress during this stressful time.

I've excerpted the article here (the "Cliff's Notes" version). Click through to read the whole thing.

1. Put the phone down!

While it is tempting to stay glued to your devices, never-ending doomscrolling and screen-refreshing can become overwhelming and keep you in a state of tension and constant vigilance. Excessive consumption of news and social media predicts poorer long-term mental health during times of crisis.

Plan some breaks where you can engage in activities that take your mind off politics.

2. Uncertainty doesn’t equal catastrophe

When anxious – as many in the U.S. are right now – people tend to assign threatening meanings to ambiguous situations. But this tendency is neither reliably accurate nor helpful. Jumping to catastrophic conclusions is like setting off a series of false alarms that exaggerate your sense of threat.

3. Don’t retreat into bed

The feeling of deep disappointment about election results you don’t like can trigger a desire to withdraw and hole up. Staying engaged in activities that give you a sense of accomplishment, pleasure or meaning can make managing this time far less painful.

4. Remember, it won’t always feel this intense

It’s normal and understandable to feel overwhelmed by current events. Focus on what will help you manage this day without punishing yourself for being upset or feeling depleted. Human beings tend to be remarkably resilient, even in the face of tremendous stress and trauma.

5. Don’t go through this time alone

Feeling isolated, whether physically or emotionally, can make a hard time feel worse. When people experience acute stress, they cope much better if they have social support.

6. Stay regular

While self-care may seem unimportant, attending to those basic bodily needs can go a long way toward keeping your internal resources sufficiently replenished so you can meet the high demands of this time. There is increasing evidence that poor sleep is closely connected to many mental and emotional health difficulties.

7. Help others

There’s so much during this time that you cannot control – there is no magic wand that speeds up vote counting in critical contested races or makes climate resolutions between countries come sooner. But taking action to improve things now for the people around you both helps others and reminds you that you can make a difference in meaningful ways. It’s a win-win.

8. Add to your toolbox

Each person is different in what helps them to relax or feel more centered. For many people, online mindfulness or cognitive therapy exercises can make a big difference. Check out online mental health programs that have been reviewed by experts and pick the resource that’s right for you.

9. Offer compassion to yourself

The combination of pandemic stresses, economic worries, social injustices, climate breakdown and more means few of us will be at our best right now as we try to just make it through the day. No one is making it through this time unscathed, so kindness to ourselves and others is desperately needed.

10. Reach out if you need additional help

If recommendations 1-9 aren’t cutting it, there are lots of resources to help people through this difficult period:

• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 988
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741
• Find a therapist
• Find culturally competent mental health care

Be patient, stay calm and keep the faith is a tall order. I’ll be happy if I can get most of the way there.

In Times of War: Taking a Break

These days I’m very aware of the need to click off social media, put down the newspaper, or turn off the radio. All too often the war news becomes overwhelming. The increased bombardment, the discovery of more atrocities, threats and counterthreats, nightmares and triggers. Every day the reports are the same or worse, or so it seems. I go out in my garden or take a walk in the redwoods or call a friend.

I’m acutely aware that being able to step away is a privilege. Ukrainians can’t take a break in the same way I, living in my nice safe neighborhood in a country not at war, can. They may have times when life goes on as usual, depending on where they live, but somewhere else in their country, cities are being pulverized and ordinary people—perhaps their friends or loved ones—are the targets of unspeakably brutal attacks. I don’t see how they can pretend that isn’t happening. Perhaps they find islands of mental refuge in the small joys of family and friends, human and furred. I hope so.

That bears repeating: When I see the smiles of my loved ones or feel the tiny leap of joy when one of my cats comes running to me, clearly delighted to see me, or a moment of awe in music or dance, or breathless wonder beneath the stars, I wish the same for people living in the war zone.

I fear for them, for their lives and mental health. At the same time, I am reminded how adaptable human beings are. I remember, in the midst of thrashing through my own PTSD recovery, my therapist remarking on the amazing ability we all have to overcome what has happened to us. That we are more than those events. I find stories of people who have survived war and torture, the Holocaust and similar devastating experiences, who are nonetheless compassionate, loving people capable of great joy. With shadows on their hearts, to be sure. I can never go back to the person I was before my own trauma. There is no magic to erase the memories in the very fibers of our selves. But we can and do heal into a new pattern. I so much wish that for the people whose lives are currently being torn apart.

Sooner or later, the war will end. The cost, already horrendous, will be even greater. I hold on to the hope that every moment of kindness and every shred of our collective experience recovering from violence will help to mend this broken world. Taking a break is not turning away or shutting down. It’s recharging our spiritual batteries for the work yet to come. My hope for Ukraine helps to keep me engaged in ways that will not leave me exhausted when the time for healing comes.

That time will come.

Meanwhile, take it easy.

On a parting note, Ukrainians are not the only ones suffering in today’s world. I’ll write about that in an upcoming post.

About That Review...

Unless you write in secret and never show anyone your stories, sooner or later someone will give you feedback. It could be a relative or classmate, or the editor of the school literary magazine. Or friend with whom you’ve swapped fanfic. What you want to hear, of course, is that they loved it. And chances are that’s what they’ll say, either because they’d love anything you wrote or they’re so impressed that anyone they know wrote anything, or they have no idea how to evaluate a piece of writing. If your friends are still in high school, they might have a passing acquaintance with writing book reports, but that’s not helpful in critiquing a manuscript.

I think this stage in the development of writers, readers, and reviewers is just fine. We all start out with boundless enthusiasm and undeveloped critical ability. When a writer is just starting out, praise and encouragement are a whole lot more helpful than disapproval. Case in point: the story of the Wranglers and the Stranglers (attributed to Arthur Gordon in A Touch of Wonder). Various versions run something like this:

A group of male college students with literary talent formed a club. They met regularly to read and critique each other's work. These men were merciless with one another. They dissected the most minute literary expression into a hundred pieces. They were heartless, tough, even mean, in their criticism. They were so relentless in their criticism that their group became known as “The Stranglers.” 

Not to be outdone, the women of literary talent in the university were determined to start a club of their own, one comparable to the Stranglers. They called themselves the "Wranglers." They, too, read their works to one another. But there was one great difference: the feedback was positive. Sometimes there was almost no criticism at all. Every effort, even the most feeble one, was encouraged. 

Twenty years later of all the bright young men in the Stranglers, not one had made a significant literary accomplishment of any kind. From the Wranglers had come six or more successful writers, some of national renown such as Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, who wrote The Yearling. 

Talent between the two? Probably the same. Level of education? Not much difference. But the Stranglers strangled, while the Wranglers were determined to give each other a lift. The Stranglers promoted an atmosphere of contention and self-doubt. The Wranglers highlighted the best, not the worst.

That’s what we need to get started: kindness and encouragement. Eventually, however, most of us encounter situations in which we benefit from critical feedback in order to overcome our own creative blind spots. And once we’ve started publishing, whether with a traditional publisher or self-publishing, we enter a new realm: our work being reviewed.

In Troubled Times Guest Post: Stephen Shumaker on Don’t Feed the Bully

In Troubled Times: Don’t Feed the Bully

By Stephen Shumaker

The last presidential election changed me, as I imagine, it changed a lot of people.

My change was wholly unexpected, and wildly out of character for me. I went from being slightly political to rabidly political. The closer the election came was like watching a car accident as it happened over a period of months. I watched it the same way I watch horror movies—with an anxious trepidation that becomes overwhelming if I let it.

Once the crash finally happened, and we got the result that everyone feared, I couldn’t stop watching this horror movie that had become American politics. Is that an exaggeration? I don’t think so. I turn on Rachel Maddow or Seth Meyers with the same nervousness that I feel when I watch American Horror Story or those cheesy movies about demonic possession. I want to be scared; I like that feeling, enjoy the thrill.

The difference is that this new thrill that I tune into could—and likely will—hurt the people that I love, in ways that I don’t know how to stop.

The thing that is attached to this new old thrill that I have when I watch these political shows, that I try to fight every day, is a sense of helplessness that is so deep it threatens to paralyze me. In a few ways, it has paralyzed me; writing hasn’t exactly been nonexistent, but it’s been so much harder. It’s so easy to get lost in the political mire of Trump said this, Trump did that. So much easier to watch the horror show unfolding across the country, with the latest “what our President-elect Tweeted” and the chaos unfolding in North Carolina and the attacks on people of color or LGBTQ running rampant because our incoming Chief approves such actions. So much easier to lose myself in the horror show than to focus on doing something.

2015 Goals, Rough Draft

Most days: exercise; play piano; write; meditate or do yoga.

Every day: give hugs (which means I get them); tell my loved ones that I love them; take a moment for gratitude.


More to follow...

Meditation for Today

It’s been a brutal year for me in terms of stress. Some of it was outright loss, other parts happy but pushing me over the edge of tolerance, for stress  too, which is a loss of calm. Whatever is happening, I keep up the mantra, “This too shall pass!” 

Life sometimes sideswipes us with occasions for rejoicing or unspeakable tragedy, but hard times run in cycles. It’s important to find ways of reminding ourselves of this rhythmic nature. Outward-facing periods of great vigor and challenge are followed by periods of apparent stagnation. These fallow times can feel like the pits of despair when nothing seems to be changing (except for the worse) and no matter how hard we engage with the problems in our lives, we seem to make no discernible progress. Winter is never going to end; all our senses convince us of it. We are never going to find “the one,” or sell that first story. And we’ve heard enough tales of folks who actually never do find a partner or make a sale that we are sure we belong in that group. As the days shorten and snow or rain turns into mud, we become even more certain the sun will never return.

That’s when I need black belt survival tools. My mantra (above) is one of them. Here are some others that work for me.

• Every day, I speak with someone who loves me.
• I try to do a daily act of kindness in a way that I will not be found out.
• I try to begin each day with trust and end it with gratitude. These can take whatever form seems good to me on that day.

What helps get you through winter blues?


The painting is by Karl Roux (1826–1894), public domain.

The Writing Life: Re-Entry

I've been away from blogging due to a family medical emergency, so I thought it fitting to return with

Tissot, The Dreamer (1871)

an essay on "getting back into writing."

Maybe some writers have uninterrupted careers. I don’t know any, and I certainly don’t qualify. Sometimes it seems that my writing life has been one uninterrupted series of interruptions. If it’s not one thing, it’s not another. Then I have to wrestle not just with getting back up to speed on the project du jour and making up for lost time, but wrestling with guilt, regret, and self-doubt.

Guilt because I should have been able to keep focused, keep writing, No Matter What. Isn’t that what a professional writer does? If “those other” successful writers can churn out 2500 words a day, come rain come shine come conventions come weddings, then I should be able to. Right?

Regret because of all the moments spent checking my email or playing Scrabble online or anything else but writing. If only I’d resisted the temptation, I’d be well ahead of the game when an interruption happens.

Self-doubt because the present interruption will only prove – publicly and conclusively – that I don’t have what it takes. Everything else I’ve written (12 traditionally published novels, somewhere around 60 published short stories, award nominations, etc.) was smoke and mirrors. Hand-waving, nothing more. And now everyone will find out. It’s called the imposter syndrome, and I am far from alone in experiencing it. My version is that because I’ve been interrupted and I’m having trouble getting back on track, I never will. That’s all she wrote. Literally.

Before I run the risk of turning into a blubbering mass of self-pity, I do have some defense against the aforementioned demons.