Yesterday, I lost my sh*t.
As in, full melt-down mode, reminiscent of my ol' days of alienation. Right up there with what I described in my previous article The Art of Falling Apart.
Before I continue, I want to be clear that my intent is NOT to compare my current drama with being unable to see my kids. There simply is no comparison to that agony.
My intent is to discuss the dynamics of sheer overwhelm, especially when it involves factors beyond your control, like with alienation.
Alienated parents are frequently among the most diligent, hard-working people and are driven to tirelessly search for solutions, resist complaining, and push through the pain. There can be moments when this dedication alone simply isn't enough, and this "failure" to hold it all together can be immensely distressing.
Admittedly, the past few months have been challenging for me. Here are a few of the stressors that I have been dealing with:
- My dad has Alzheimer's and his condition is noticeably deteriorating, as expected.
- I've had major employment changes and launched a new business venture recently.
- I have a genetic, connective tissue disorder that causes an array of health problems that are amplified by stress. Some painful, some debilitating, some annoying. All more static to deal with.
- The holidays. No further remark needed.
- Omicron. No further remark needed.
- Ringing in the New Year with a brief, but amazingly dramatic, bout of food poisoning that caused me to miss celebrating my kid's birthday.
But, here's the thing: I was pushing so dang hard to work through all of this, to stay positive, and to find solutions that I completely lost sight of the ENORMOUS collective weight that had accumulated on my shoulders.
I didn't want to -- perhaps could not -- face the sum total. My entire focus was on fighting the good fight, forging ahead, and keeping my chin up. I didn't allow room for just being human.
I dropped the ball on that last one. I think I know why.
On an underlying level, I was -- I am -- scared. I'm scared of incrementally, tragically losing my father. I'm scared of the breath-taking risk and vulnerability of embarking into new professional territory. I'm scared of the impact of my own health issues.
Fear has its purpose. It can help us pay attention and it can be a tremendous motivator, but only momentarily. When it does not let up, fear results in bone-deep exhaustion, skewed perspective, and anxiety.
Alienation dynamics are steeped in fear and trauma. As an alienated parent, you must have a plan to take care of yourself along the way. When the pressure mounts, intentionally increase restorative measures.
- Go outside. Fresh air and sunshine heal the body and mind and fill the soul.
- Set up a soothing environment as much as you can, paying attention to background music, lighting, and room temperature.
- Move. Physical movement increases blood flow and is known to improve mood. No need to make this overly complicated. Even stretching or taking a walk can be helpful.
- Listen to interesting or supportive podcasts. Auditory input can be a low-stress, low-effort way to plug in helpful information, distract, or improve mental outlook. Brené Brown is a current favorite of mine.
- Set a timer to check in with yourself throughout the day. Being consumed with stress can make you disconnect from basic things you need, like drinking water, breathing deeply, or eating regular meals.
I hope this coming year brings progress and healing to you all.