Life changes in the instant
Note: Normally I don’t post my newsletter here, just the quote that inspired it. But because it addresses this particular and strange moment we find ourselves living through, some of my readers have suggested I post it. So here it is. Be well.
“Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it changes.”
— Joan Didion
In The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion recounts her experience dealing with the sudden death of her husband, the writer John Gregory Dunne, who was by all accounts her soulmate. It happened so simply. They sat down to dinner and he had a massive heart attack. Much of what follows in the book is her processing and reorienting her mind to the reality of what happened, what had changed, and where she now stood. And it was a process. It took time. There was nothing immediate about it.
I’m going to allow myself to be more personal in this newsletter than usual, and write for a longer stretch, because we find ourselves suddenly in a different world than we were just yesterday. That’s the reason I’m sending this out over a week earlier than usual, in case it is of use.
As for me, it seems odd that six weeks ago I was stressing over the removal of a simple skin cancer on my scalp, and particularly the small scar it would leave. I’m vain; it is a character flaw.
And now this. I think many of us at this moment are in a similar position as Joan Didion was. It’s amazing how things can be “normal” for so long, then life changes in the instant. I think many of us are dazed and unmoored, as if a bomb has gone off and it’s knocked us flat on our back and our vision is blurred and our hearing isn’t right. We’re struggling, I think, to get back to our feet and come to terms with the situation that is, as opposed to what was. I remember saying out loud a couple days ago, “I want my life back.” But in truth this is my life. Where I am, at this moment.
To refer this back to writing, what has just happened is much like the “Initiating Event” in the beginning of a three-act film or novel, or possibly the opening of Act 2: “Change of Plans.” And I think much of the distress we’re feeling comes from the fact that, like a protagonist in a novel, our feet have been taken out from under us and we don’t know what’s next. Among the many things you may be feeling, that may be stressing your days or distracting you from your writing, one of those things is this. We want certainty. We want to know how this story ends and how we get there. We want our life back. But the truth is you never “get your life back,” as it’s always moving forward, always changing. You only get your life.
So here we are for a period of time where everything for many of us has come to a kind of stop (even while for others, the health workers, infrastructure, and service workers, the speed of life has ramped up frenetically, dangerously). And we don’t know how this plays out. I recommend you allow yourself to be in the middle of a story and not stress or strain over our having no conclusion to it yet. It’s not time for a conclusion. Stay with this day, with this moment, because we’re going to need to pass through many days and moments. And it’s fine to make your moments small. Watch reruns on TV. Cook or clean. Take care of today, and take care of yourself and those you are in contact with. Start again tomorrow. It’s strange to be in a position where you serve your community by remaining in isolation. But that is where many of us are, and it is where I am.
Some tips for this moment
I am an admitted optimist. I allow myself this, and if you’re comfortable with it, allow yourself the same. You need “up” emotions to buffer the shitshow that may be around us, and positive emotions strengthen your immune systems. If things go to hell you can always readjust. Regardless, I am certain we’ll get through this. The only questions are how long it will take and the extent of the damage. And since we can’t know this now, there’s no use fretting over it. Harder days are ahead, and there will be much rebuilding, but there’s the possibility of real and positive change on the other side that was not possible before this.
Yet as much as I recommend being an optimist, I would temper it with caution. Nobody wants this to end quicker than I do, but it will likely go on for some time. We need to adjust our hopes to that fact and avoid the extreme ups and downs we’ll be pushed and pulled toward. This is how we get through it.
Remember, you’re in a story. You have to play your part in the story you’re in and where you’re in it instead of stressing and straining and trying to will yourself into a different story, or force this one to the early conclusion we all desperately want. That will only stress you, which is not good for your immune system. You have to take a breath and let this be. If you can do this it will also help you to stay fluid, which will help you make better decisions in the moment as well.
For those of us stuck at home—and this will be admittedly harder if you have kids, but possibly even more critical—come up with a regular structure to your day. Go to bed about the same time as usual, and get up at about the same time. Know what you’re going to do, then set about your tasks. This technique is used by soldiers in POW camps as well as astronauts, and it keeps them sane and sharp. Creating a regular rhythm to your day and sticking to it really helps manage cabin fever and anxiety and fear. If circumstances force a change, then change.
Exercise. Move. “Low- and moderate-intensity exercise naturally lowers cortisol levels [particularly from stress] and helps with immune-system function.” It helps your immune system in other ways too. However, Elizabeth Bradley, medical director of the Cleveland Clinic’s Center for Functional Medicine, cautions “we have to be careful not to overexercise because it can weaken your immune system.”* Also you don’t want to hurt yourself, as we especially want to stay out of the hospital right now.
And finally, if you’re stuck at home, think of how lucky you are to be a writer. I hurt for many things brought by this moment, and one is the dancers and actors who can’t do their art for who knows how long, and the musicians playing by themselves in their apartments. But I can’t grieve or worry enough to fix this situation. I have to fix my situation. Or better yet, manage it. That is actually my job, and your job, in this crisis. And our artform gives us a tremendous advantage because regardless of everything else, there’s nothing stopping us from writing, though you may find yourself a bit disoriented and distracted at first. Don’t sweat that; we all are. So just set up a time to write, and go to it each day, as a practice, as a process. Be grateful for it, whether it’s a struggle or not. Because it is a sanctuary, and it is yours, and you’re so lucky to be able to access it at this moment, and maybe even accomplish work you wouldn’t have otherwise. Go fully into that world. Give yourself over to it, so you’ll be replenished when you return to this one. That’s your job, too.
Wherever you are, whatever your situation, I wish you the best of health and the best of luck. I'll be talking to you again in May.
* The Wall Street Journal; March 21, 2020; https://www.wsj.com/articles/facts-and-myths-about-boosting-your-immune-system-11584050588