Coping with Things
You Think You Can’t Handle:
Sixteen Tools to Get
You Through
I remember in eighth grade when the doctor told my mom, dad,
and me that my baby brother Stephen had Down Syndrome. That day I had gotten
out of school early and my dad took me with him to see the baby. As a result, I
think I ended up hearing the news around the same time as my dad. It may have
been the first time for my mom too. My memories of that moment are altered.
Time was slow. I was watching my parents more than listening to the doctor. My
mom was crying, my dad stoic. I heard things like trisomy 21 and mental
retardation. Something shifted. The way my brain processed input was distorted
for a while. I was 13 and completely overwhelmed.
We knew nothing about Down Syndrome (read more here http://www.ndss.org)
When dad and I got home, he told my sisters and brother. I
remember that we all held each other and cried. We had no idea what this meant-
at all. As it turns out, my bother Stephen is an amazing human being. Everyone
who knows him loves him. It was going to be okay, even better than okay.
 |
| Stephen Cook |
This was, however, one of my first experiences with
unexpected, overwhelming, and soul-wrenching news that I honestly wasn’t sure I
could handle. As life is the way it is there would be (and will be) more times
like this.
For example, we moved many times when I was little, before
the Internet and Facebook- back then- you literally lost many of your fiends
when you moved. My grandparents have passed. My swim coach from middle and high
school, a test pilot in the military, was suddenly killed in a plane crash. My
high school boyfriend that I thought I would marry, wasn’t ready for that (and
I found out the hard way). I left my first marriage. I have lost beloved pets.
When I was pregnant with Maya, the doctors told us there was the possibility
that she might have Down Syndrome (days later we found out that she didn’t). My
mom very recently passed away due to pulmonary fibrosis. Life altering stuff
has happened. And, this is not all of it (some things simply must be kept
private and sometimes those ones are the hardest).
I am not special.
You have these moments too.
The hard part for me is that these are not discrete moments.
It is not like they happen one moment and then they are gone, passed. Your life
changes- forever. The result is prolonged periods of intense feeling and
processing. I have experienced them to last many months- the hard ones much
longer- during which there are penetrating, stop-you-in-your-tracks waves of powerful
feelings. There are also waves of remembering the way things used to be and
awareness of exactly how much things have changed. This contrast hits you, yeah
it hits you, as a sharp, hard reminder of how your life has been forever
altered. These hits are accompanied by images, thoughts, and breath-taking,
literally breath-taking, waves of emotions.
The thoughts that run through my mind include these
particularly hard ones, “I don’t know if I am ever going to feel
okay again” and “I wonder if I will ever be authentically
happy again.”
Here is the thing. Know that these questions do
not signify reality (i.e. the truth is you are going to feel okay and
happy again). Rather, they let you know where you are. They are signposts. When
you see these signposts, you are in a hard place and you need support.
Here are some tips on how to get out of your hard place.
These are not make-it-better tips. They are not escape tips. They are- THE
WAY OUT IS THROUGH tips.
Rally your best self.
Research suggests that if you coach yourself with
self-compassionate, caring encouragement using your own name, you providing
self-support that can move you forward. This is how it works, “Catherine, I hear you saying that you are
afraid that you will never feel okay again. I see your sadness. Remember,
Catherine, you are strong. You have your breath and your practice. You have
made it through hard times and learned and grown. Be present, feel, and breathe.
You’ve got this.”
Look for those who have made it and lock your eyes on them.
By the time my brother Stephen had grown a bit and was doing
well in school, my mom went back to school to get her teaching degree. Sharing
the writing gene, she wrote about our family experiences and the birth of Stephen.
She wrote about Stephens’ birth and meeting a woman who also had a son with
Down Syndrome. Her name was Eileen Hyslop. Mom reached out to her. Eileen
generously talked to my mom at length and later became her dear friend. That
first day on the phone, my mom could barely hear what Eileen was saying because
she just heard her laugh, from the belly, from the soul, an authentic, happy laugh.
The sound of that laugh gave my mom hope. My mom thought for the first time, in
a long time, that maybe she would, in fact, feel okay again and maybe, in fact,
she would laugh, a real laugh again. Find those who have made it through and
lock your eyes on them.
Let your friends and family be there.
The days after I told my partner of seven years that I was
leaving were some of the hardest days of my life. I knew he deserved to be with
someone who loved him completely and I knew I needed to leave. That did not
mean that I didn’t love him very much. I did and leaving him was one of the
hardest things I have even done. I was floored by the feelings that followed.
One night, I felt as if I could not bear to exist. I didn’t want to die, but I
didn’t know if I could handle being present in all I was feeling. My dear
friend Lissa came over to my place with a novel in hand. The television was
off, no music, just me curled up on the couch and Lissa sitting on the chair
next to me reading. I didn’t know the story. To this day, I have no idea what
she was reading. Still, the sound of her voice and knowing I was not alone, got
me through one of the hardest nights of my life. I will be forever grateful. Reach
out to the people in your life, your sisters and brothers, family, good
friends- those that won’t mind sitting and reading to you while you work on
breathing.
Listen to the stories and perspectives of others.
This one was my daughter Chloe’s contribution. When I asked
her what she does to get through the seemingly unbearable, she said she reaches
out to others to get their perspective. She said that when she is too deep in
something, she loses perspective and only sees one side. When she reaches out
and listens, she hears other perspectives and possibilities. It has a balancing
effect. She says it gets her closer to what is really happening and out of her
reaction. I guess old souls can be 16
year-old girls. With a similar intention, the year I turned 40 I re-storied
my whole life in a series of journals. I interviewed my husband, my parents, my
siblings, and my friends and got their stories of my life. I detailed things
that made no sense to me when I was little and asked very specific questions. All
the notes are in journals that I still hold precious today. This process was incredibly
healing and “self”-organizing. I learned so much about my own perceptions as
well as the sides of stories that perhaps I could never have known or
understood as a kid. Not surprisingly, I was out-and-out wrong about more than
a few things. The whole process made me stronger, deeper, more connected and
integrated.
Routine is your friend.
When my Grandpa Cook died it hit me hard. He was the first
of my grandparents to pass. He meant a lot to me. He was a teacher to me on
topics ranging from how to recover from an eating disorder to maintenance of
healthy daily routines. I somehow felt safe just thinking about him digging around
his garden, making insane smoothies, and sitting and reading. To get through
his death, I stuck to my routine. I went to school. I went to work. I ran (no
yoga yet in my life at this time). My routine was my anchor. I said to myself, “Work is still here,” “School is still here,” and “Daily runs are still here.” Things had changed substantially and yet so
much was going to stay the same. I found great comfort in that.
Use your planner, calendar, or other scheduling support technology.
In the research world, these are called cognitive prosthetics
(or neuro-prosthetics). Considered a tool for improved functioning, technologies
can help you “think” just as a prosthetic leg can help someone who has lost a
limb walk. For example, researchers are exploring ways that technological tools
can help those with Alzheimer’s function day-to-day. How does this relate? When
we are completely overwhelmed, we are at high risk for flaking out. Under
stress, your brain is flooded with stress hormones and there is actual risk for
cognitive impairment. Use your tools and give your brain a break so that it can
process what you are experiencing. You can enhance the process by adding in
reminders to do deep breathing exercises or reminders of positive affirmations
(e.g., an auto-reminder pops up to say, “You
are stronger than you think you are. Breathe”). Technology is a powerful
tool for mental health.
Let your feelings move through you and breathe- breathe deeply.
You can’t think your way out of some things. It is simply
not possible. When someone dies, you can’t fix it, think about it differently,
nothing like that. It is loss, pure loss. It can’t be fixed. You can try to
think your way out of it- that path takes you into loops of rumination- because
it doesn’t really work. The feelings demand to be felt. As they wave in, allow
them. Put one hand on your belly and one hand on your heart. Feel. Deepen your
breath and stay present. These feelings are called emotions, e-motions-
packets of energy and information (i.e., /e/) that move through you (i.e.,
/motion/). They tell us what matters. The remind us what is important. They
move us. Allowing and presence is needed for integration and processing of what
has happened. It’s a necessity. That said, take breaks. Alternate sessions of
being totally and completely in it with periods of support, friends, and
healthy distractions. When you are ready, allow again. That old saying is true,
“In
order to heal, we need to feel.”
Stay Sober.
There is another old saying (from Alcoholics Anonymous),
“Nothing is so bad a drink won’t make it worse.” You don’t need to be an
alcoholic to benefit from that wisdom. Your brain and soul need to be sober to
process important things in your life. If you take yourself out with alcohol or
drugs during the hard times, you rob yourself of the chance too honor the
tragedy, loss, or important life event with pure, sober presence. Equally important,
if you drink, or use, every time you start to feel, it is difficult, if not impossible
to move forward. You get stuck. It bears repeating, that old saying is true, “In
order to heal, we need to feel.”
Write, write, write.
Writing about hard times can help you heal (read a
Psychology Today Piece here
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/write-yourself-well/201208/expressive-writing).
James Pennebaker, as researcher on the mental health benefits of writing found
that when individuals write about difficult events in their lives, include
specific details, and integrate their emotional experiences, they experience
increased physical and emotional well-being (read about James Pennebaker here
http://www.utexas.edu/features/archive/2005/writing.html).
For
me, writing in my journal, writing a blog, or any writing at all are ways for
me to move thoughts and ideas through me. I love giving seemingly free-floating
emotions a home on a page- whether it be a webpage or a hand-made journal page.
My emotions seem to do better with a good home. Write, write, write.
Seek out nature.
Nature is medicine. Researchers are confirming what we all
already know: getting into nature is grounding, spiritually uplifting, and
healthy. I believe so strongly in this that I run to a local waterfall on a
regular basis. If I don’t get there once a week, I feel it in my body. I love
hearing the water rush over the rocks. I love seeing the trees grow and shed
their leaves, hearing the snow crunch under my feet in the winter, and smelling
the flowers in the spring. I love the birds, squirrels, and ducks that live
there. Once when we were in the midst of moving, I ran to the falls in a state
of exasperation with the unpacking. Sweaty, exhausted, I walked up to see the
falls, and rested my hands and chin on the safety fence. At that moment, I saw
the most beautiful thing. A blue heron was standing at the base of the falls
dipping his bill in the water and then looking up to the sky. Somehow, I knew
in that movement that everything was going to be okay. I didn’t take a picture.
I hold the image of that heron clearly in my memories embedded with feelings of
calm security.
The two weeks of my mom’s death, I ran or walked down to
Lyon’s Falls, the actual falls. I watched the water fall over the rocks. I made
wishing stone stacks. I noticed the roots on trees and the moss on rocks. I
felt the sand on my fingers and the softness of the sides of the riverbed under
my feed. I breathed in the fresh, snow-tinged spring air, and I cried. Yep,
nature heals.
The next possible thing.
When I was an undergraduate, I did not love to clean my
apartment. I would be busy on swim team, school, and work and get over my head
with housekeeping. One Saturday morning I woke up knowing I had to get my
apartment in order. It had gone too far and something had to be done. I felt
frozen by the sheer magnitude of what I had to accomplish. I asked myself, “Catherine, what is the next possible thing
you can do?” I answered, “You can put
your feet on the floor and get out of bed.” I answered myself, “Yes, yes that seems possible.” And so
it began. I asked myself if I could get this cup, this one cup, to the kitchen
sink and I answered myself that I could, in fact, do that. One little, tiny
thing at a time, I got my apartment clean. This strategy has come to serve me
in postpartum after a spinal headache and complicated recovery. It came to
serve me for many, many days when I was terrified that I would not get tenure
(I did). It served me writing my last book (e.g., “I can write this section, just this section”). In Alcoholics
Anonymous they talk about one day at a time. For me, on some days, that is too
big. I ask, “What is the next possible thing
you can do?” That’s it. Do that.
Schedule pleasant events.
Since the 1980s, researchers have been documenting the benefits
of scheduling pleasant events. It is important that you see the two aspects of
this tool: (a) schedule, and (b) pleasant event. Each component is important.
In fact, planning the pleasant event (e.g., a vacation) may have as much, or
more, of a benefit than the actual pleasant event. Read the New York Times piece
on the benefits of
planning vacation
http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/02/18/how-vacations-affect-your-happiness/?_r=0.
Next, the pleasant event is- well- pleasant. You don’t need to earn it or
deserve it. It is just healthy to do fun and nourishing things. I love to go
for a run in nature or hike. I love to go in our hot tub. I love to cuddle in
by the fireplace and write blogs. I love teaching yoga. I love group runs with
friends. I love yoga trainings (my brother said that I need to admit this is
yoga camp for grown-ups- I say training makes it sound legit). I plan “trainings”
and travel. I have been saving for and planning a trip to Italy for almost 5
years. I hope to go this year, completely paid-for, no credit card debt, and
learn to cook authentic Italian meals in all different regions. Just thinking
about it makes me happy. (Go here for a list of pleasant events http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/html/er_handout_8.html)
Practice and all is coming.
When I found out my mom had Pulmonary Fibrosis, I deepened
my yoga practice. I recall sobbing in savasana with Susan Fain, the yoga
teacher, playing “Awaken My Soul” as
she gently pressed my shoulders to the floor (thank God for towels over the
eyes). Practice yoga, run, swim, or whatever physical practice centers you. The
act of being in your body and moving is essential and powerful. Recall the
section on emotions needing to move? You
need to move too. You move, the emotions move, and integration of even the
hardest of stuff happens. Unlike substance use, a practice that allows you to
feel your body and your feelings allows the impact of hard times move through
you. Warning: each of these physical practices, if done with the wrong intention-
can work just like alcohol or drugs. You can use your yoga, your running, your
swimming to numb out the feelings- and if you do- well- re-read the section on
staying sober. It’s not a step forward. So move- YES- and move with the
intention of feeling and processing. Now, that will serve you.
Meditate.
Start mediating today so that when you need the skills you
have them. During the last weeks of my mom’s life, we had the privilege of
taking care of her. Thanks to Hospice and their wonderful care providers we
were able to be at my parents’ home providing the care my mom needed. These
times are so very important and hard. I was able to use the skills I have
practiced for years- breathing, mantra, and focus- to stay present and
experience all that there was to experience. You see, the more you meditate,
the more you have a felt sense that everything really is going to be okay no
matter what is happening. You have a felt sense that we are all one and that we
all come from and go to the same place and that place is calm and full of love.
Each day you practice you allow yourself to get a closer- not to believing
this, but knowing it.
Allow.
I am not about acceptance. Maybe for some things- for
others- no. There are things I do not and will not accept. However, I have
found it to be good practice to allow. Allow others to be on their own path.
Don’t let your judgment, your ideas, your concepts about where they should be
and how they should be doing things to get in the way of love and presence. It
has taken me a while to get to this and it is my practice. Allow. Allow. Allow.
And then Love. Love. Love. I promise, you will not regret this.
Look for meaning.
This one takes a commitment to dharma- the concept that we
were each born with a reason for being and it is our path to find our reason
and express it. Seane Corn, a teacher of yoga, explains that the universe is
our teacher- always. She says that our souls are placed here on Earth to learn
and the life events that manifest as we move form day-to-day and year-to-year
are there to be our teachers. In my life, I have a sense that the universe does
not speak English, or any other human language for that matter. Rather, the
universe speaks in symbols and energy. That means that the universe is not
going to walk up to you and say, “Catherine,
your brother Stephen was born to show you the beauty, love, and intelligence in
all human beings.” Nope, I had to see, witness, share, experience, and
value all of that. There were no words. Just Stephen.
So there you are: the sixteen tools. The way out is through
and getting through can be manageable. It is not easy, but it can be simple-
stay present and process- and know you and your beautiful life are worth the
effort. Your ability to stay present and move through the experience is a way
of honoring those involved.
It is a way of honoring the journey of your own soul.
I hope you choose the path of presence. You are stronger
than you think and life is more beautiful than we can remember in the hard
times.
The way out is through.
Namaste,
Catherine Cook-Cottone
P.S. Love you Mom
