Back in the Bubble
Gird your loins and grab the popcorn
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Hi, friends!
So…what’s new? LOL. Yep, November has been a lot. Last month I wrote about creating a self-care kit and I stand by the importance of that. I’ve been thinking a lot about the election and what’s coming. I’m also working on my memoir and it occurred to me that the tools that helped me through some traumatic years — ones defined by uncertainty — might also help me now.
Trusting my intuition and acting when my gut tells me to pay attention. Purposely redirecting my thoughts to a mindset of gratitude. Narrowing my focus to what needs to be taken care of next, especially when my inclination is to catastrophize about the future. And practicing detachment.
Detachment isn’t a lack of caring, but a separation of action from expectation. Or (what I need most) a separation of observation from emotional response. Much like meditation, it requires intention and a gentle redirection of thoughts, and with practice it gets easier. Detachment is incredibly beneficial to my mental well-being, so long as I can keep it up. As Lloyd Braun once said, “Serenity now, insanity later.”
See, here’s the thing. I refuse to subject myself to another four years of being on high alert, engaged in a never-ending high-stakes game of emotional Whac-A-Mole. I’m intimately familiar with waiting for the next bad thing to happen. There’s a reason my memoir is titled Hypervigilant.
This time, my goal is to stay informed from an emotional distance. To look at events unfolding from a place of curiosity instead of horror. I will act where I can, speak up where useful, look after my fellow humans, check in on my friends, and vote like my life depends on it.
This time, my goal is to stay informed from an emotional distance. To look at events unfolding from a place of curiosity instead of horror.
I’m also seeking to understand, both from an historical standpoint and our current one, why half of our country feels good about the election results. I’m not talking about extremists, but the ordinary people I’ve always known as kind, upright members of my community who show up for others and aren’t seeking to hurt anyone. I don’t agree with the gamble they’ve taken. I also worry about the deep harm the next administration will knowingly, and in some instances gleefully, cause.
The only way I can observe what’s coming without losing hope is through a lens of detachment. Like using a pinhole projector to view an eclipse, I can bear witness while still protecting myself.
Lessons from the quarantine bubble
In 2020, when we first went into pandemic lockdown, I was immobilized by fear — terrified my daughter, who has cystic fibrosis, would get deathly ill. I was a maniac about disinfecting everything and kept our family of three isolated in our own little bubble, grateful we had the privilege to work from home while others weren’t so lucky.
Once we got into a routine and my panic eased, something remarkable happened. I began writing every day and became part of a virtual writing community for the first time. My creative life exploded open and I discovered new channels for my work, new friendships, and exciting new possibilities. My bubble had become my incubator.
The pandemic was both immeasurably awful and the most significant leap forward in my personal growth in a decade. It took a cataclysmic event to upheave my status quo and send me down a new and better path. I’ve described it as the twister that sent Dorothy into a Technicolor world.
I don’t ever want to experience another crisis of that magnitude. Even now, I have lingering feelings of being in limbo, one foot still in the bubble. But I took away an important lesson from that time, which is that life is complex and it’s happening now — no pressing PAUSE.
It’s bad and good. It’s scary and funny. It’s filled with doom and promise. Together. All the time.
Life is complex and it’s happening now. It’s bad and good. It’s scary and funny. It’s filled with doom and promise. Together. All the time.
For right now, my plan is to lean hard into the good things I’m so fortunate to have. My family and friends, and friends who’ve become family. A vibrant writing life and dreams I’m eager to pursue. The perspective of knowing I’ve gotten through everything life has dealt so far and, let me just say, there’ve been some tough futhermucking hands.
Change is definitely coming and all forecasts point to a shitstorm. But maybe it’s the storm that will finally shake people awake and yeet us into a Technicolor world.
Three Things That Inspired, Entertained, or Intrigued Me
I’m a recent convert to audiobooks and love nothing more than listening on a long, outdoor walk (bonus: my walks have gotten longer since I’ve started listening). I did a trial of Audible, which was great, but I don’t want to pay for yet another monthly subscription service or be limited to one book credit per month without paying more. Plus, once I’ve heard it, I’m ready to move on and don’t need to own the file.
Then my friend Nikki told me about Libby, a library app that lets you borrow ebooks and audiobooks for free. All you need is a card from a participating library. I visited my local library (I forgot how much I LOVE libraries since I’ve been buying books for so long) and I’m giddy at once again having a library card in my wallet.
Speaking of audiobooks, I thoroughly enjoyed Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld. The main character is a writer on an SNL-type show. If you liked Nobody Wants This on Netflix, it has a similar vibe of great chemistry, humor, and maturity in a relationship (vs. the tired trope of misunderstandings that take an entire season to resolve).I stumbled onto this hilarious IG reel featuring an f-bomb dropping Elmo, and now I’m full-blown obsessed with the account, as is my husband who normally hates when I thrust my phone in his face and force him to watch reels. The two of us now swear in Elmo’s voice. Thank you, @logeypump23 for making us laugh. He has a second account, too.
The Washington Post ran a story last week about how a gratitude practice can improve mental health. My newsletter is named after my own gratitude practice, so it’s advice I can get behind. What intrigued me about this article was a recent meta analysis that found a significant inverse relationship between gratitude and loneliness. With loneliness so pervasive these days, it’s nice to know gratitude can help.
Wonderful piece, Abby. I've shared it with some of my American friends and family. I expect many Americans think we Canadians are not affected by your election but there is a whole lot of osmosis going on between us. I was thrilled with how clearly you articulated "detachment". It is a skill I learned when my sons were in their late teens and early twenties. I would have chained them both to their bedposts if I could but since that was not an option I had to trust their own discernment. I know a lot of mothers who became chronic insomniacs during those years and have still not recovered. Regarding the election again, a dear American friend recently told me that she is not going to give that man another 4 years of her life. I hope she can stick to that and this substack is a recipe to help her do that.
For the last year of downsizing, renovating and now Christmas my own writing practice and art practice and music practice have been put on the shelf. That is not going to change over the next month, nor should it as I prepare to welcome friends and family at this special time of year. But honestly, Abby, some days I miss the Covid isolation. In the new year I need to take back those practices I so love. I think those of us who came together as the ISJ family during that year plus will always treasure where Suleika took us. I have a VERY thick file of that writing and it is great inspiration for returning and reclaiming that life as a writer. Big hugs and Merry Christmas.
We are on the same page.