THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF PANIC

The Right Amount of Panic

I was walking yet another loop around a group of friends at a local park when someone admitted his parents had tested positive.

I had no idea if he lived with his parents (turns out he didn’t), or even if he’d seen them in a while. But immediately, I felt panic coming on as my head rolled through scenarios like quarantining again, testing positive myself, infecting friends, or having to go to the hospital. I was afraid without any information at all, and my immediate response was to walk a little faster, getting myself away from him as quickly as possible.

I’ve faced internal reactions like this the more I’ve gone out. I never imagined, when I was so scared to take a short trip to Trader Joe’s with my dad, that I would feel comfortable shopping nearly every day, taking long walks past parks that have way too many people, and attending small gatherings.

It definitely helps that I always wear a mask and adhere to the principles of social distancing, but still, not everything works out perfectly. There are people who don’t wear masks and people who gather in groups, people who cough around me and people who crowd too close in store lines and on the sidewalk.

For me, it can be hard to figure out the right amount to panic. Sometimes, like when I heard a loud, throaty cough right behind me as I went to take out the garbage, I wanted to default to my childhood response of “scream and run,” a camp game I adapted for other purposes. Other times, I wonder if I’m being cautious enough, washing my hands enough, using enough hand sanitizer, cleaning my apartment enough, and doing a variety of other things I know are useful.

In situations like this pandemic, I’m afraid of swinging too far in one direction or the other. I know I have the tendency to set rigid rules for myself and follow them strictly, but a situation like this makes my method impractical. How am I supposed to know, after all, whether the person coughing behind me had some food stuck in his throat or was displaying COVID symptoms? How can I tell if the people not wearing masks already have antibodies, like one person I know, or if they don’t?

I’m trying to err on the side of less stress by taking on more and more tasks outside of my apartment. This is helpful to me thanks to the principles of exposure therapy - the more I do a certain thing that scares me, the less it will scare me, and I have definitely seen that in effect in the last week as I’ve gone farther and farther from home.

Unlike with conventional obsessive patterns, it’s not easy to look at a behavior and say that it’s “wrong” or purely fueled by problematic thoughts. If I wash my hands a dozen times in a day, it might not make sense during regular times, but it makes a lot more sense if I leave my apartment several times and touch things when I go out, like if I go grocery shopping or explore a local gaming store.

I’m using the same principles for social interaction - saying no to things that outright scare me, like very large gatherings, and during small gatherings, I offset anxiety by pacing (so I’m not too close to one person for too long), meeting outside, and wearing thicker masks with more layers. Certain things will still scare me, but by working towards a livable amount of panic for daily activities, I can try to put my life back together after so many months at home.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

Mental Health Strategies for High Holidays 2020

Mental Health Strategies for High Holidays 2020

by Anat S. Geva and Miriam Ament

We are living in abnormal and unprecedented times, yet the sun rises daily, and soon the high holidays will be upon us.  For many, the Jewish Days of Awe provide a moment in time to reflect on the previous year and an opportunity to be grateful for all that we have.  It is likely that this year will be different for many.  Masked and socially distanced, we will be unable to experience many of the holiday rituals. Without in-person high holiday services and large holiday meals with friends and loved ones, and during a period of uncertainty and racial reckoning, we may feel untethered and off-course.

Given how alone and overwhelmed many are feeling, it is no surprise that depression and anxiety are on the rise.  In fact, in response to COVID, there is talk of an upcoming mental health pandemic. If  you are feeling overwhelmed or anxious or depressed, do not feel ashamed. You are not alone.  Mental illness is common, and you should seek help.  

But know that feeling hopeless and despondent are not inevitable.   There are strategies you can try out to get through this period of time - especially during the normally boisterous and social high holidays.  Adopting the plan of action below can help take the edge off of an otherwise unsettling period of time.

1. Adjust your expectations.  When we thought this surreal, once-in-a-lifetime COVID disruption was going to be short-lived, we may have clung to familiar routines and maintained our personal and professional expectations.  But this way of living is not ending soon, and it is tiring. No matter how few or how many disruptions we may experience at home, we are all carrying extra emotional and cognitive weight on our shoulders - and that will slow us down.  So, just accept that this year will not be the same as last year.  Though you may end up watching more shows on Netflix than ever before or finishing a record number of novels, instead of anchoring yourself to past goals and expectations, accept that this is the new normal. In-person Rosh Hashanah dinner with family might not be happening, but apples dipped in honey will still taste sweet. Develop for yourself a new set of priorities, think about new ways to measure success, and honor the new pace of life.

2. Develop an attitude of appreciation. Try not to focus on what you do not have this year.  Instead, focus on what you do have. Ask yourself, what can you be grateful for that previously went unnoticed. Perhaps you now have the time to be aware of how helpful your neighbor is or how your childhood friend still makes you laugh.  Make sure you end every day by listing 3 things you are grateful for, and be sure to acknowledge and give yourself credit for things you have accomplished. Getting out of bed and walking around the block counts! Pay close attention to the holiday blessings; there is actually lots to be thankful for. These are challenging times, so it is important to highlight for yourself the successes; this will leave you feeling more satisfied and hopeful.

3. Create new opportunities.  Our inability to celebrate the high holidays in person this year opens the door for creating new customs and rituals.  History is replete with stories in which the Jewish people found ways to evolve and thrive, even after tragedy and destruction.  Likewise, we need to embrace the opportunity to rebound and personally grow from the current COVID-related challenges. Maybe this year, because you cannot host a meal at home, you and your friends each cook a dish for a Rosh Hashanah dinner and then you jointly donate it as a meal to a shelter. Or, because you have no guests to host at your dining room table, you find time to participate in a synagogue-curated Torah learning series. Do not wallow in the losses; it is better to create a new way of celebrating.

4. Connect with your tribe.  We may be socially distant, but we have an inherent need for human connection.  Find ways to connect with others who buoy your spirit and provide you with emotional sustenance.  We cannot meet in person, but online gatherings or even old-fashioned phone calls serve as a great way to expand your world and remind you that you are not alone. Zoom into high holiday services or call friends and family to wish them a Shanah Tovah.  Even if you have trouble motivating yourself, you will be surprised how much more fulfilled you will be once you take action and reach out to a friend - old or new.

5. Get physical.  Be aware of the way in which your mind, body, and spirit are connected.  And then, stop thinking and get moving.  Express yourself through dance, a run along the lake, or playing a (socially distant) sport.  Tennis, anyone?  Find an organization or synagogue offering an online mindfulness yoga experience. Let your body and its movement help you get out of your head. The impact on your emotional and physical health will be positive and long lasting. 

6. Give your time to others. Volunteering is a great way to make your community a better place.  Even helping with the smallest tasks makes a real difference.  Assemble small Rosh Hashanah care packages, send cards, offer to pick up holiday meal groceries, or prepare baked goods to spread some cheer. And, as an added bonus, dedicating your time as a volunteer has been shown to be good for your mental and physical health.  Moreover, it is a terrific way to expand your network and meet other people in your community.

7. Stay spiritually connected.  Consciously acknowledge your intent to be curious and quiet your mind using meditation or prayer.  Stop thinking about the stressors of the here and now, and instead, take the opportunity to experience the divine and open yourself to study and experience the high holiday theme of renewal.  Do this by Zooming into synagogue services (live or pre-recorded) or participate in a virtual meditation and self-reflection class.  These days, you have lots of options to choose from.

8. Feed yourself and feed your soul. You know what they say, sometimes food is the best medicine of all.  After all, nutrition plays a large role in wellness.  And, it turns out, the act of cooking or baking can be a therapeutic experience in and of itself. It is goal oriented, personally rewarding, and provides a sense of accomplishment; it is a natural way to achieve a positive mental health state.  Best of all, when you are done, you have something delicious to eat. So, continue with high holiday traditions by making familiar family favorite dishes and desserts, such as challah, noodle kugel, and apple cake.  And then engage with your wider family and friends by posting photos of the holiday table before the meal in your family text groups and/or on social media. 

9. Give yourself a break.  Let’s face it, these are challenging times.  Everything is harder, and it seems like lots has changed.  Some of us may have difficulty feeling engaged or wanting to particip ate as fully as we typically would during these holidays. Under the circumstances, such sentiments are understandable. Do not hold yourself up to the same standards as you did pre-COVID.  Instead, practice self compassion.  That means: be sure to acknowledge and recognize your feelings, whether you are sad, anxious, or lonely; and be less self-critical.  Everyone around you has had to adapt their expectations and has periods during which they struggle.  It is okay to feel the struggle, but know you are not alone.

10. Engage in the positive. Find ways to engage in activities that you associate with enjoyment and gratification.  These are things you find fun and rewarding.  Take zoom breaks, sit in the sun, listen to a song that helps you recall a happy memory, make a holiday meal for your elderly neighbor, participate enthusiastically in holiday services. Adult coloring books might be  the perfect thing for you; they quiet the mind and may help you reclaim the carefree attitude of childhood. Be sure to mix it up! Identify activities that are consistent with the life you want to live, and no matter what you choose to do, be sure to focus your awareness on the positive feelings evoked by your activity.  This will boost your mood and bring you joy throughout the day.

Dr. Anat S. Geva is the Director of Strategic Initiatives of No Shame On U. Miriam Ament is the Founder and Executive Director of No Shame On U.

SWITCHING FROM SELF-CRITICIZING TO SELF-CARE

Switching From Self-Criticizing to Self-Care

Every year, at the High Holidays, I feel the most Jewish guilt I feel all year.

I feel guilty for not looking forward to the holidays so many people cherish. I feel guilty for not going to services more during the year. I especially feel guilty for the fact that I can’t fast on Yom Kippur for medical reasons, although in recent years, I’ve started volunteering during the day, doing more physical tasks that people who are fasting might be unable to do.

But this year, that idea has to be thrown out the window, along with any other ideas of a traditional High Holiday service. I was starting to feel overwhelmed at the thought of spending Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur alone because it would be even more alone than in the past - instead of going to synagogue, I’ll be in my apartment, attending services on Zoom.

As I spent more time puzzling over what to do and untangling my feelings, I learned about a local (virtual) session for young people living alone about how to deal with the changes of this year. I signed up and attended the session earlier this week.

At the session, I was expecting to hear a lot about what to do, but I wasn’t expecting to have so much space for everyone to share what they were feeling. On a virtual whiteboard, all of us shared our favorite parts of past High Holidays, things we’re afraid we’ll miss, questions about religious or other matters related to the days, and more.

It was such a relief to see I wasn’t the only one feeling confused about what to do in terms of services, food, and listening to the shofar. Other people were concerned about where they were going to find community and how to make online services feel like in-person ones. The major question that kept coming up was how to keep the meaning of the holidays intact when so much else has changed and is still changing by the day.

As someone who struggles greatly with change, and who has also spent a lot of my life feeling like I’m the only one who has these sorts of difficulties, I was encouraged by the fact that many people were asking questions and seemed so relieved to get advice. People were sharing far more than I expected, and in the breakout rooms (a feature of Zoom I’ve never explored before), I enjoyed having one-on-one conversations with strangers who had similar concerns.

One of the takeaways that stuck out to me was self-care. As the High Holidays are a time when I feel a lot of guilt and confusion, I’m not used to being kind to myself then. And lately, I’ve been having a hard time being kind to myself at all. Especially in the wake of falling for a puppy scam, I’ve been feeling unprepared and immature, ill-equipped for the world at hand, and have been calling myself a variety of cruel names.

But this panel inspired me to try to break out of the negative thought patterns I find it so easy to get stuck in. Even at a time of year I’ve come to associate with ruminating over everything I’ve done wrong - a process I’ve done every year since I first heard of apologizing to friends and family for wronging them over the last year in order to get into the Book of Life - I can try to be kind to myself. And I’ve already started.

Today is two weeks since I sent payments for a puppy I never received, and in those two weeks, I’ve cried a lot and berated myself even more, but I also went through old collectibles and games and sold enough on eBay to make up the difference. I know it’s not the same, but it’s a way for me to take charge over a situation I had very little control over and reduce my anxiety significantly.

I’ve been doing things like that as much as I can during the pandemic, and the High Holidays are no exception. I know there are some things I can’t change - I’m going to be alone in my apartment no matter what I do - but I can take advice from the session and remember that there are other people out there in Chicago and beyond trying to be kind to themselves this holiday season.

I’m going to set up a special space in my apartment for the High Holidays, and even if my preparations are simple, I can move my computer away from my desk and feel like I’m in a different place. I’m going to try to challenge my fears about not having a “normal” High Holiday experience and not being a “good Jew” by not going to in-person services or fasting on Yom Kippur.

During the pandemic, I’ve thought a lot about pikuach nefesh (saving a life), one of the most important good deeds a person can do. Ever since the panel, I’ve seen a new application for this mitzvah - by being kind to oneself, it’s easier to be kind to others and available for them, and you never know who truly needs that kindness.

Wishing all my readers a happy and healthy new year and opportunities to heal, learn, and grow at this tough time!Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

LUCY IN PEORIA WITH HEARTBREAK

Lucy In Peoria With Heartbreak

I woke up on my tenth day of quarantine to wonderful news - my COVID test was negative, meaning that many of my friends would feel comfortable seeing me, albeit from a distance. But even better than that, I was going to get a puppy that day.

The moment I knew I would be going back to Chicago, a little over a month ago, I decided to get a dog. It was the perfect time since I’m going to be working remotely the next few months, and the biggest thing that scared me about heading back was the loneliness I believed was inevitable. I was also afraid of being bored, and the challenge of raising a dog would be perfect to fill both holes in my life.

I started looking at various local shelters, aware that I would need to do things in advance since there are so many people hoping to adopt pets during the pandemic. I applied at several shelters, checked out breeders, and wrote to my landlord to get the specifics of what kinds of dogs are allowed in my apartment.

The first day after I arrived in Chicago, I found the first dog I was interested in - a Hug (Husky/Pug mix) from a local shelter who got adopted out to someone else. I loved his face because he looked like one of my favorite dog breeds and the one I’d want most, a French bulldog. Over the next week, I applied for half a dozen dogs I’d be okay with before I came to the conclusion that if I was going to be spending a good deal of time and money on a dog, I should go for one I really, truly wanted - and that’s when I got taken for a fool.

I connected with a man from Peoria named Javier (the first real name I’ve used in this blog, as I hope to warn anyone else who he might be scamming), who said that he had a puppy available. She was a grayish Frenchie with bright blue eyes like the sky on a sunny day, a funny little soul patch and a white tummy, and in the videos he sent me, she seemed to be playful, kind, and curious about the world - definitely my kind of dog. And, as he told me after I sent him the first payment, her name was Lucy.

Since my pseudonym is partially inspired by my favorite Beatles song since childhood, “Eleanor Rigby” (a song that felt like both a call to the loneliness endemic to my school life and the possibility for change if either of the lonely people in the song had reached out to each other), I loved that the puppy’s name was Lucy. It reminded me of the way I apparently learned to sing “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” along with nursery rhymes, and loved to entertain adults around me by singing it as best as I could.

It struck me a few minutes later, as I enthusiastically showed off the puppy’s picture to several of my friends, that there was an easy solution to the fact that I always wanted a dog with a nerdy name. Lucy would be a great nickname for Luthien, the most beautiful elf maiden in The Silmarillion - and she was one of the most beautiful puppies I’ve ever seen. I could already picture her dog tag in my head: Luthien on the top line of the heart, followed by Lucy in quotation marks to show that that’s her nickname, and finally my phone number. I pictured myself dressing her up in a little costume to match my elf dress, carrying her around on Halloween, showing up to Pokemon Go raids with her in a baby carrier so I could hold her and play at the same time.

Javier was supposed to show up the next morning, and I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. My Fitbit recorded sporadic rest interspersed with pacing and reading and picking the perfect outfit to meet my puppy. I cleaned my apartment after crawling on the floor to make sure there were no small objects at a puppy’s eye level. I did as much work as I possibly could, hoping to spend Friday afternoon getting that cute dog tag and other supplies I’d need to make her comfortable.

I heard from him in the morning, which made me feel more confident, but my hopes were shattered when hours passed after the second payment and I never heard from him. I tried to text and call the number that had always worked before, hoping against the odds that he was just caught in traffic and would bring my puppy to me like he said he would.

By the time 1:00 rolled around, I knew I had been scammed, and the thing I’d feared since leaving my parents’ house started to happen: I started to breathe so fast I couldn’t catch my breath, my heart was pounding, and all I could do was rock back and forth in my comfy chair as every emotion I was terrified of poured over me all at once, in addition to the loss of a (to me) significant amount of money.

I called my bank immediately, sobbing, and was told that I’d need to wait 5-10 business days to see what they could do. I filed a report with the FTC and the police, but the odds are still slim I’ll be able to get the money back except by the one strategy I’ve come up with: finding old video games, Pokemon cards, and other valuables that matter to me but not too much, that I would be okay with selling.

My friends and family helped me get out of the initial near-panic attack (only calling it a near miss because I was able to dispel it over an hour instead of several days), but I am still horribly ashamed to look at the texts with Javier, full of red flags I can see now that I’m not looking at the situation with rose-colored glasses.

My friends and family are trying to encourage me to see this as a learning experience, but a consequence of the way my head works is that I beat myself up about mistakes and failures for years to come. I still feel a pit in my stomach when I think about the college honor I didn’t get, the messages I sent while in the throes of depression, and many other moments throughout my life that I can never seem to forgive myself for. And my dog-less apartment is a reminder to me every day that I failed once again, and this time, in a very costly way.

It’s been a few days since the incident. I haven’t looked at her picture, because I know the bright blue eyes won’t be following me around my apartment. I know the love I thought I would get from her will come to me eventually from another dog, but for the foreseeable future, I’m going to be living in my apartment alone, bored except for the entertainment I come up with for myself.

Instead of learning the lesson my family has told me to focus on - how to avoid scams - I’ve learned something else: I’m very used to my tendency to fall into the easy territory of my favorite stories when I’m frightened by something in real life. However, I never had the opportunity to realize that I can retreat into these stories even before I know if things are going to be hard, that I can be so deep in denial that I ignore obvious signs. I trapped myself in a vicious cycle of repeating my mistakes in my head, thinking over every sign that I should have seen and everything I should have known.

There are two silver linings to the situation - my newfound openness about my search for a dog with my friends and family, and the way I was able to stop a burgeoning panic attack from completely derailing me. And as of the time I’m writing this, I’ve made back 1/7 of the money I lost to Javier. It might be a long journey, and in the meantime, I’ll need to find new ways to cope instead of making up a story of myself, happy, with a dog that doesn’t exist.

One day, I will have a puppy - hopefully a French bulldog or a dog that looks like one - with bright eyes that will stare at me like my family’s dog stares up at my mom, like she hung the moon and every star just for him. In the meantime, however, I have decided on a new goal: to reflect on my past mistakes and try to see them as learning opportunities instead of simply criticizing myself in an endless loop of negative feedback. It’ll certainly be hard, but now that I don’t have a new puppy to raise, I’ve got the time and energy to invest in my mental well-being. It’s time to break the cycle of negativity my OCD has trapped me in about my past mistakes while turning my puppy dream into reality.

For now, I’ll be looking up at the sky. My thoughts of Lucy will hopefully diminish, and by the time I am able to find a puppy to love, I hope to have forgiven myself for this mistake (among others) and approach dog ownership with a full heart.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.

THIS IS NOW

This Is Now

Early in the evening of my sixth day of quarantine after returning to Chicago, I finished reading a book.

It’s not at all an unusual circumstance for me, and I have a pile of books waiting for me on the lowest shelf of my bookshelf (two shelves below my Tolkien shelf sagging from the weight of everything I’ve piled on there). I found six books I’d bought used on eBay before I even heard the word “coronavirus,” and I’d forgotten what all of them were about.

Two were classic fantasy fare, one was sci-fi, another humor. One was based on a TV show some of my friends told me was funny, and the last one was a collection of short stories I suddenly remembered being very excited about.

I briefly wondered why I hadn’t taken it home when I remembered the premise of the book: it deals with themes of death. I remembered packing to return home, holding the book in my hands before returning it to the shelf. I was panicked enough, I thought. I didn’t need something to remind me of some of my worst obsessive fears or trigger horribly upsetting memories.

But as I held the book on the sixth day of quarantine - which, like the blood test I got shortly before returning to Chicago, went far more smoothly than I expected - I found that I wasn’t upset. Even as part of me tried to convince myself to read one of the fantasy books or even the humorous one, I wanted to read this one. It had an intriguing premise, and short stories are a great fit for the way I’m running my life in quarantine: lots of activities, working out as much as I can in the confines of my apartment, and keeping ahead of all my chores.

The thoughts I had in my head at that moment reminded me of something I’ve been telling myself, that I hadn’t connected to my deeper fears of the past: that was then, this is now.

Ever since I got back to Chicago and had an easier transition than I expected, I’ve had to tell myself that phrase many times in a day. Every time I expect to break down crying or revert to old, bad habits, I need to remind myself that just because I thought or behaved a certain way in the past doesn’t mean I am guaranteed to do so again.

Applied to the situation of choosing a new book, I’m not guaranteed to resurrect old obsessions or negative thoughts merely because I see the word “death” on a book cover or read a book with death as a major theme. And this principle can apply to so many things - I was able to try a new food (kale noodles) this week by telling myself that just because I had reacted with extreme fear to trying new foods in the past didn’t mean I needed to do so again, and I was also able to take a surprisingly optimistic take on my COVID swab test earlier in the day.

I had been afraid, even though I knew there would be no blood involved, because I knew there would be a lot of people and things triggering my fear of all things abnormal in medicine. But on the walk over, I told myself that just because I had been afraid of these things in the past didn’t mean I was about to panic. I could wait and see how I felt, and hopefully, things would be all right.

Sure enough, when I got there, I was more than a little nervous, but I used the same distraction techniques I use in hospitals and at the hematologist’s office to keep myself from fixating on the things that scare me. And I used my new mantra at every step of the way, starting when the nurse came over to get my vitals and I put my finger in the same pulse ox machine I had to wear in the hospital.

This is now, I thought as the numbers took a little too long to calibrate for my liking, but the numbers were totally fine. Before I knew it, I was taking the test, the swab going so far inside my nose I could practically feel it tickling my brain.

This is now, I thought when I spent the next hour watching doctors and nurses go over to people one by one. I was outside in the sunshine. I could stand. I was wearing my Lord of the Rings mask. Things had definitely improved since back then.

This is now, I thought when I was finally able to walk home, knowing I was breathing the last fresh air I’d have for the next eight days, but even though I knew I’d be back at my apartment soon, I could still enjoy my brief time outside.

I can’t even begin to say how many times I’ve told myself in the last six days that “that was then, this is now.” It’s becoming the mantra of my quarantine, something to remind me that every day has the possibility to be something new. Even though I’m trapped in certain routines and unable to do many of the things I enjoy right now, I can still create new experiences for myself. Hopefully, over time, these will push out my scarier memories and leave me with both a more positive outlook and the ability to try new things with less fear.

Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.