Sanity in Social Isolation

Part 1-My own experience with isolation, and how to stay sane:

When the government in my state announced the mandate that we should practice social isolation, my life didn’t really change much. I am fortunate enough to work for a company that values us as people, and has made working from home not only do-able, but enjoyable. This is, to date, the easiest social isolation I’ve done. And yes, I’ve done it before, more than once.

One thing that makes this different, and carries its own difficulty, is the uncertainty surrounding the situation as far as what the world will be like when it’s over. In the past, I knew the world would be the same when I re-entered it. Now? There isn’t so much certainty. If you’re struggling with that uncertainty, or the loss of normal daily life, it’s okay to grieve. I did every time and it was vital to my health.

The first time I was isolated was brief, and due to swine flu when that was the virus we were all worrying about. I was at home for two weeks, and the Stephen King mini-series marathons on TV were absolutely the only reason I didn’t sleep the entire time. I didn’t learn much this time, mostly because I was unconscious and resting for most of it. The thing I wish I’d done differently was text my friends more. I could’ve used the support and the social interaction.

The second time I was socially isolated, it was due to an extreme, but acute, bout of depression caused by the situation I was in during the fall of 2012. I will most likely write more about that in my next post, but for now: I lived alone, in a big city, with zero friends there or in my hometown, and I was expected to function completely alone.

First, I was fortunate to have all the creature comforts I could want and supportive parents. I had school to distract me, though I essentially stopped attending classes and disappeared from the world for an entire semester. I left my home once or twice a week to eat, and then enjoyed, to the best of my depressed abilities, Netflix, video games, phone apps, and an unholy amount of sleep the rest of the time.

This? Not healthy. That is NOT the way to go through social isolation and I really urge everyone to remain social and productive in some way. I nearly died, and I say that to press the point that it is not good for you. I wasn’t being forced into isolation, but I was isolated, and I handled that isolation in the worst way. It also seems to be the biggest temptation if you’ve lost your job or social connections during this time. No matter how alluring sitting on the couch watching TV seems, it’s not going to do you many favors.

The one good thing I did for myself then, which I do recommend, was that I took a lot of late night walks on the beautiful campus nearby. The fresh air, scenery, and exercise are probably some of the biggest reasons I wasn’t more sick (I left there with physical illness from ignoring my physical needs). It provided a needed respite from my self-imposed prison and restored my sense of peace and calm. If you can’t go for a walk, try to find images of nature or even a virtual tour of a park or facility you enjoy. You could even imagine your favorite outdoor place.

There was a little less “outdoor” for me during my third isolation but, it was also much less lonely, and healthier. My 2015 illness, which is explained in one of my much earlier posts, put me in bed. The summer heat kept me inside even after I was able to walk around.

I spent 7 months isolated with my family because I simply didn’t have the energy to entertain guests or have even a small conversation, for that matter. Believe it or not, I stayed mentally healthy the entire time. I was being physically tortured by my own body every minute of every day, and I was isolated with my parents, and I still managed to stay happy. Not everyone is so lucky and this was absolutely not completely due to my own actions. I am grateful for the people who helped me. None of us can do this isolation without some kind of support, even if it’s long distance.

How did I help myself when others couldn’t? I breathed. I was in a constant state of focusing on my breathing; a breath in for a four count, hold, and the slowest breath out for as long as I could manage it.  It’s a meditation technique but it’s also a calming technique medical professionals recommend for anxiety and to reduce all kinds of physical illnesses like hypertension. My entire day was me focusing like this, to stop the constant pain and nausea and to keep me sane. On its most basic level it satisfies the primal need for air and tells your anxious/stressed body “I am still breathing, I am still alive”.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, this is a good way to get back to basics. If you are healthy and able, focusing on breath can be a wonderful way to ground yourself. Don’t stress about the “how”, just breathe in whatever way helps you. Try reading 10% Happier by Dan Harris for some excellent tips on different types of mediation and a great read in general.

What if you’re sick, and breathing is difficult? Or your panic attack is too overwhelming to breathe? I had days like that too, when my heart condition was bad and it felt like all the air was being pressed out of me. In those times, I would focus on a part of my body that didn’t hurt and think about what it felt like. It’s a mindfulness technique that takes your focus away from the negative stimuli and brings it to something benign and lacking any unusual stimulus. The bottom of my foot was my part of choice.

Part 2-Replacing anxiety with activities:

Aside from practicing mindfulness meditation, I picked up a lot of hobbies. Previously I had really only played video games, read, or watched movies. Now I was hungry for absolutely any activity to distract me. It worked.

Here are the things I did to entertain myself: I learned everything I could. I focused on self-improvement instead of entertainment and actually found I was more entertained that way.

YouTube is amazing. I learned to Knit, to sew more complex things, to embroider, and to solve a rubix cube the slow way. I practiced piano. I stretched and went for walks with my parents when it was safe for me. I read non-fiction books and fiction books. I played puzzle games. I did puzzles, almost constantly; we had a puzzle on the table daily.

I practiced drawing. I colored in adult coloring books. I took long baths with bath bombs and calming music. I learned anatomy (and then forgot most of it). I went on www.memrise.com (which does have more than just language lessons) and www.khanacademy.org and learned everything I could. I practiced mental math until it wasn’t difficult or scary anymore. 

I took in anything and everything. My mindset was “If I’m going to die, then I’ll die knowing I did a lot of things. If I’m not, then I’ll live with more skills/knowledge and maybe I can help someone else.” The fact that I wasn’t bored out of my mind helped too.

There is always something to do. Enjoy the view from your room. Learn something new. Count everything you see that is a particular color. Make something to donate or share like a fleece tie blanket or a heartwarming painting. Take time to appreciate your loved ones. Practice not caring what others think and being yourself, because we all need a refresher on that sometimes. Confront your fears. Share your fears with someone else. Give your pet attention. Give yourself attention.

Part 3- Gratitude

This has been the easiest isolation for me because I still get to talk to my coworkers. I still feel like I am offering something to the world (which isn’t a requirement, but it’s something I enjoy doing). I can eat, and exercise, and get out of bed. I can use my phone and have the energy to talk to loved ones.

I am fortunate. I know this. Some are not as much so. But if you’re reading this, and you find that you’re scared, or bored, or wishing you could get more social distance between you and the people you live with, maybe this will help.

Life is not always what we expect. Sometimes we have to do it differently, or alone, but we adapt and survive anyway. Every time I was isolated was different. The time that was the healthiest was when I focused on self improvement and my breath. My gratitude, and my entertainment followed naturally.

There is value to anything and everything, even if our culture tells us otherwise. Even if what you need to do is sleep, you’re resting your mind and body and that’s important. If you need to cry and grieve for the life we were living before, that helps to refresh your body and relieves the stress and pain. Everyone worries, that’s normal. Just remember to try to let go of the things you cannot change and focus on what you can. Even if the only thing you can change is the pace of your own breath.


My Parasthesia, Brevity of Life, and a Fellow Spoonie

I mentioned this in my last YouTube video, but I haven’t gone in depth about how it affects me mentally, or how some of my daily life is different. I have paresthesia, or numbness, in my hands and occasionally my toes. Most notably in my right hand.

Now, when I tell people this, I get varied responses. Most are the kind that are dismissive, or sympathetic but also not touching too heavily on the implications. But two responses I’ve gotten were empathetic, and/or supportive, and the one that was both came from a fellow spoonie.

First, I want to talk about how I feel. I’m not throwing a pity party, but it’s also normal to go through that sometimes. So, if you’re someone who’s in that place right now with your own illness, that’s okay. It’s normal to have moments that feel hopeless. Congratulations, you’ve embraced your humanity. But that isn’t me right now, and it hasn’t been much this whole time because we still don’t quite know at what level of seriousness this all is anyway.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself. Most of all, I’m not scared. Not in the way people think anyway. I’m not scared of having my hands go totally numb to the point where I don’t know they’re there unless I look. I’m not afraid of the worst case diagnosis (one possibility of which is neurodegenerative). I’m not afraid of having to alter my lifestyle; considering I have already done that with my other illnesses.

What I do fear is running out of time to do the things I love. Many of which require good hand coordination and dexterity. Piano , guitar, painting, drawing, cooking, sewing. It’s been difficult trying to do those things lately.

My handwriting, which has suffered greatly, is not the way that I would prefer. I used to pride myself in my beautiful handwriting, and now my hand cannot continue writing well for a long amount of time. My boyfriend has started checking the temperature of my kitchen sink water before I wash dishes, because I’m unable to feel how hot it is. He went to wash his hands and realized I was burning my own under the water.

Sewing the most basic things is painful. I haven’t been able to get to a piano to play and luckily guitar isn’t affected much, but will they be affected in the future? Drawing is almost impossible when my numbness is at its worst. Life is so short, but that brevity becomes more drastic when my skills are declining.

I’m eager to find out what’s wrong, so that I can move forward, get the accommodation I need, and start making a plan. I’m much more uncomfortable with the uncertainty, than I am with the diagnosis I might get. If it’s just a pinched nerve, then I’ll do the treatment and try to heal the best I can. If it’s a more chronic condition, then I’ll make a plan, and move forward.

I was more scared of losing my favorite hobbies up until recently, when I met a fellow spoonie who has peripheral neuropathy. He cannot feel his legs, and must look down at them to walk. He’s had to relearn to walk multiple times. That’s his reality. He was empathetic to the whole experience, but not patronizing or dismissive. He didn’t tell me to stop worrying, because he understood that worrying isn’t really what I’m experiencing. He knew I was only mentally preparing for all possibilities. He said it straight: there might come a day when you want to quit because you can’t seem to do anything. That I might lose more of my feeling in more limbs. That if that worst case scenario happens, I simply want to be prepared. He doesn’t quit, he knows the struggle, and he moves forward. So, his advice was this: If you look at your hands, it’s easier. Your brain will adjust to the idea that the signals it’s getting are different. Just work, go through the long process, and don’t panic if you can help it. He and I agreed that breathing and remembering that if we just remain grateful for what we can do, we can keep learning, growing, and most importantly: living.

This advice made my day, not because I didn’t already know, but because it was coming from someone who had lived it. When a doctor or PT tells you these things, it’s hard to believe that it’ll be that easy. But when someone who knows what it’s like does, it reminds you that sometimes you just have to change your perspective. So, if I have to get special art supplies, or draw more slowly, or use a different art medium, or hand sew less and machine sew more, I can. Loom knitting is already my favorite over traditional needle knitting. Making clothing can be less detailed and more basic and I can work my way up to detail.

And if, eventually, I cannot do those things at all anymore, I will find another hobby to enjoy. And if eventually I can go back to PT, or there’s another treatment and I don’t have to deal with this again, then even better. I can go forward with an even greater appreciation for how my body functions. No matter what, I’m not going to fear what happens. I will fear becoming complacent. I will never stop trying and moving forward even if every movement is painful. I will use my spoons to the fullest and keep growing and learning. And when all else fails, I will ask my loved ones for help when I need it.