Sobbing. “What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not smart enough? What if now that there are so many candidates in the job-hunting pool looking for jobs that are better than me that I’ll never find a job?”
More sobbing.
Hello Imposter Syndrome. Hello Depression. Welcome old friends. It’s been a while.
This time last month I was shopping around for a quarter of a million-dollar-plus home, collecting a six-figure salary and pinching myself daily for my good fortune. “Lord, I don’t know what I did to deserve this life, but THANK YOU!”, shouting in my best 75-year-old Southern Baptist Grandma voice.
Coming from where I started, I felt like I had “made it”.
A high school dropout, young(ish) first-time mom, orphan...you know the story. The girl that wasn’t supposed to be shit, becomes shit...and the crowd goes wild! *Insert crowd going wild* I was my very own underdog turned success story.
Me: *Speaking confidently* God, I’m ready for the next challenge!
COVID-19: Hold my beer!
And just like that, in a matter of weeks, my life turned upside down. I was laid off from my job as Interim Vice President of Marketing due to COVID-19, my personal consulting clients paused my contracts, I had to stop house hunting, I filed for unemployment and went from planning exotic summer baecations to collecting coupons out of the supersaver.
Me: *Sobbing.* “I’m so overwhelmed. The world is falling apart. I’m falling apart!! I don’t even know where to start”. *More Sobbing*
Friend: It’s going to be okay.
Me: *sniffles* Even my roots are confused. They’ve gone grey and I can’t find any temporary hair dye….anywheeerreeeeeeeee *Dramatic Shrill*
Friend: *Sigh* Girl.
I’m being dramatic for creative reasons but this is how I started my day yesterday. Crying, unable to get of bed and face the world, overwhelmed, and with my good ole friend depression knocking imperceptively at my door like the Grimm Reaper. If I answered its call and succumbed to the temptation to wallow I honestly didn’t know how I’d be able to climb out of that hole. Isolated, alone, hundreds of miles away from my support system, and doing my damndest to “flatten the curve” by practicing responsible social distancing, I knew that I was at a turning point. Having suffered through depression before I know that its easier to address it before it becomes a full-blown spiral of doom. I needed to act NOW.
I recently took on running again to manage my stress and anxiety. In case you didn’t know, exercise releases endorphins, and endorphins make you happy and happy people don’t kill people (thanks Legally Blonde). I mean, the gyms are closed and there aren’t that many other ways that I enjoy to get in some good cardio (none I can write about publically you heathens...lol).
I started with a mile, then two and recently began adding .5 mile increments until I build up to 5-miles. I use an app that once you enable the GPS it will track distance, speed and time so I can see how I’m progressing. Today was my first day running where I added another .5 increment and I was excited to see how long it took to run. Every .5 mile marker the app dings to tell me how far I’ve run, how fast I’m running, and how much further I have to go.
Of course, this was the day that the app decides NOT to track. *motherf***er*
It wasn’t until I was about halfway into my run that I realized my app was malfunctioning and that I wasn’t going to be getting any progress updates. If I was going to make this 2.5-mile run I was going to have to listen to my body, pace myself and trust that the last few weeks of running prepared me to go whatever distance I needed to run. I was going to have to run on faith.
*Talking to myself* Oh, God. You are so funny and petty showing up on my Run like this.
That last .5 mile was a struggle. Not because my body couldn’t handle it but because my brain hadn’t decided if it could or couldn’t. I realized that if I didn’t just “trust the process” and stop worrying about how much longer the run was or how much further I had to go I was going to psych myself out and not finish. All I had to do was run….the rest would take care of itself.
So with one foot in front of the other, I ran. I stopped worrying about the time, the distance or the pace and I just moved. One foot in front of the other. The message was received loud and clear. I had been so overwhelmed worrying about the outcome of all the new challenges in front of me that I had psyched myself out from even moving. The longer I sat thinking the more overwhelming it all appeared. It wasn’t until I actually start moving again, making a list of things to do, being present, acknowledging my feelings honestly without drowning in them that the hope and light began to return.
All I need to do is move. The rest will take care of itself.
My best friend once told me during another really rough period in my life that the best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time. These are perilous times. The uncertainty, the fear...the death can be overwhelming and paralyzing. Those feelings are normal and it’s okay. We’re all doing our best to make it out on the other side and while some days may be harder than others I do know that if you just put one foot in front of the other….the rest will take care of itself.
You got this. We got this.
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