These are tough times for empaths.
As we watch government service agencies get gutted, as we watch people lose their jobs, as we watch our beautiful national parks struggle to stay open, as we watch our once thriving country descend into economic despair, it is a challenge to keep panic at bay.
Knowing our government is canceling environmental protections, while casting marginalized people aside and wrecking long-standing relationships with once-beloved allies is taking a toll on our mental health.
The heart aches. The soul despairs. Even the left, logical side of our brain wonders how we will ever come back from this.
The only thing I can liken it to is COVID.
And so on the fifth anniversary of the COVID-19 shutdown, I find myself reiterating the coping strategy I used to get through that frightening time of uncertainty.
Back in March 2020, as we all wondered how the mysterious virus worked its horrors, I lie in bed one night hyperventilating.
What to do? What to do?
I needed a mindset to help me stay positive and focused. No one needs a ninny in times of crisis. I had people who needed me to be capable and helpful and composed — a daughter who had just landed her first nursing job in the COVID unit of a hospital; another daughter who had just had a baby boy; a granddaughter whose preschool had abruptly ended; a father who was already lonely and in failing health.
Though the news was all bad, and the images were so heartbreaking, I decided then that each time I felt overwhelmed I would break the beast down by remembering what was still within my control. I called them the four Cs:
Be calm, be compassionate, be creative, be careful.
They were seemingly simple things I could do, self-talk I found encouraging, things that put me back in the driver’s seat.
Those four mantras not only helped me keep a sense of hope on the darkest days, they enabled me to turn a frightening, isolated time into opportunity and growth.
How did I get through COVID?
I baked challenging recipes, including focaccia bread and a replica of Harry and Meghan’s lemon elderflower wedding cake.
I installed gardens and some parts actually took off.
We attended the Morton Arboretum’s first-ever drive through Illumination holiday show.
I introduced my granddaughter to every kind of art project I could think of, from tie-dying to snow painting. When we grew weary of paints and glue sticks, we collaborated on a children’s book about — what else? — soap and the importance of washing your hands.
I couldn’t visit my dad, so I surprised him with “Portillo’s on the porch.”
To reconnect with longtime friends, I threw together a socially distanced backyard gathering. We had to chat loudly through our masks, but no one seemed to care.
My husband and I organized cul-de-sac happy hours and went on twice daily walks.
And, in a parking lot in Bloomington, I reconnoitered with two siblings who live out of town to exchange gifts and surprises. I brought Palermo’s 95th pizzas, Orland Bakery doughnuts and tamales from a Mexican restaurant in Blue Island. They traded Avanti’s sandwiches, freshly baked bread and pies from a downstate shop.
We tried to be helpful too. I organized a food drive on my block and delivered a carload of nonperishables to a nonprofit in Oak Lawn. We sprung for lunch for the ER doctors at the New Lenox hospital where our daughter worked. And, when my husband decided to install a railroad garden along the portion of our yard that backs up to a frequented walkway, I went all in on decorating the space with wildflowers.
The biggest challenge came when our daughter announced her engagement. Because no one knew when the shutdown would end, she made plans for a very small, destination wedding. And so there I was, hosting a drive-by bridal shower on my front lawn in December. The local Italian specialty store, Rubino’s, supplied fabulous sack lunches and there were hot cocoa bombs for everyone.
Nothing was traditional. Nothing was fancy or frilly or the way “it was supposed to be.”
Yet, somehow all of it was special and memorable and, well, wonderful.
My attempts to “be happy anyway” allowed me to feel a sense of defiance towards COVID — dare I say a sense of winning.
And that is my point: Even in the darkest times, even when the world seems to be in a death spiral, the 4 Cs can get you through.
Be calm, be compassionate, be creative, be careful.
Of course, I felt badly for those who were sick, for those who had lost loved ones, for those who died alone, for those who were buried without fanfare.
I felt badly for the teens who missed prom and state championships and graduation.
I felt badly for people who were having difficulty coping with a life interrupted.
And now I feel badly for those who are losing their jobs and their callings. I feel badly for our national neighbors who have always been so welcoming. I feel badly for anyone who believes government should serve the people instead of punish them.
Once again, I will try to channel this hurt into something good.
I don’t know if the country can weather another storm of chaos and uncertainty. I don’t know if we’ll come out of this new challenge unscarred.
But I do know that even when times are hard, it helps if there are soft landings, shoulders at the ready and candles available to light the darkness.
It may not seem like much but to someone in need, it may be enough, or even everything.
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at donnavickroy4@gmail.com.
