The Pandemic Times: Psychology Edition

Thanks to Covid-19, America came to a screeching halt right around March 15, 2020. All clocks might as well have stopped, too, because they pretty much ceased to be consulted. Unless your classes, work, appointments, etc., were able to continue online, they simply ended. Ultimately, for most of us, the "safer at home" campaign lasted until right around May 1st. Good thing, too! Because about that time, people whom you never would have expected to have such a flimsy grasp on sanity, went nuts.

In more ancient times, primitive peoples looked to the heavens or to objects they embued with the power of a god for explanations for whatever was going wrong in their neck of the woods. Turns out that we modern, twenty-first century people, only thought we had transcended that approach.

The short version is, until the riots started, I could've sworn we were just ONE meme away from throwing all the grandmas down the nearest volcano to save ourselves.

Pandemic Skilz

It's amazing what you can do when there is nothing else to do! Or when you really have no choice. I think families all over the world are making the same discovery, given all the YouTube performances, crafts, and sudden interest in homesteading slathering social media. Here's what we've been doing at the Queen of the Hill Cottage:

I re-learned how to make bread, so we could go to the store less.

Hubby bought a tractor to clean up our forest after the pines were logged. 

The boys hacked a trail to our creek through the autumn olives old-style -- with machetes. There is no photo of this because they looked scary and I kept a wide berth!

I am finally cooking meals. Every. single. freaking. meal. I'm still waiting for my house elf to reveal itself and clean up after me. 

D learned how to yo-yo. Like, from couldn't do it at all to being a total trickster.

I'm starting some herb and vegetable seeds this year, and I am planting lots of flower seeds that I always meant to.

Look at me! The gardening queen. 

D taught himself how to make survival bracelets. Naturally, he believes this will make him a millionaire. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it is really billionaires that run the world these days. 

G is cleaning up a canoe that has been languishing by the barn for the last 40 years or so, after my ex brother-in-law "paddled" it over The Sinks in the Smokies.  

My mother has learned how to FaceTime! 

My mom is the real gardening
queen.

Mom also made a whole new garden bed, complete with a drainpipe -- all by herself. 

Out of utter desperation, I finally gave in and cut D's hair.

Isn't he handsome? And still has 
both ears.

My family does rock star quality
FaceTime sessions!

While it is genuinely torturous for some of us, the "shelter in place"proclamations and "social distancing" and "safer at home" campaigns have gifted my family and friends many things. Most of all, the gift of time.

What have you learned to do or found the time to do that you always wanted to do "some day"?

The Thing about Ends

The first time I heard about the coronavirus, it was an off-hand mention by my husband, waaaaay back in December. In Pandemic Time (TM), that feels like a decade. In December, China still seemed a safe distance away and it really wasn't all that weird to hear that another virus emerged from the cesspools of exotic animal marketplaces and crowded factory farms that I see in my mind's eye. New Years Eve came and went with all the promise each sparkling clean January 1 deserves.

Just take up knitting, Mr. Coyote.

In early January, I heard enough that I began to follow what the media then called it a "novel coronavirus". We were told then that it was zoonotic (bat, pangolin, or both), but had jumped to humans. The Chinese government seemed to be taking some extreme steps to put and to keep people in quarantine. Video emerged of people being dragged out of their apartments kicking and screaming. Others of people being stuck in a small box on the back of a truck, carried away to somewhere unknown. Some people were welded into their apartments. This was not the flu. Following the news about the virus became my hobby. I should really have taken up knitting, or taught myself French, because knowing didn't help anymore than seeing the train coming when you are on the train tracks, Wile E. Coyote-style.

We dubbed this "Pandemic Day."

Fast forward to March, because what happened in between was a lot of political gobbledy-gook that other people will cover ad nauseum for the next hundred years probably.

What a March it has been! It has truly been the longest March in human history. On March 11, the World Health Organization (WHO) labeled the novel coronavirus a "pandemic" and suddenly the earth shifted underneath our feet. As people say of the moment they learned of the assassination of JFK, I will never forget where I was when I learned of this. I was touring Biltmore House in Asheville with two of my dearest friends. I had already decided this was my last outing, as we understood that my children and parents were all at elevated risk if they caught the virus. We ate in two restaurants that day. Like, inside. Sitting at tables. Surrounded by other people. All things that are not done in the year that the last three and a half weeks has felt like.

All that to say, the Thing about Ends is that you never know when they are coming. At the beginning of March, kids went to school. Families went to church. They had plans for Spring Break. They went to amusement parks and attractions, like we did. We all used to go to the grocery store without feeling like we needed to wear a hazmat suit or to call on our ninja skills to avoid touching anything or breathing any air. We had friends over. We met at pubs. We had book club meetings. Life was normal, until suddenly it wasn't.

Dear Younger Me

There is a song entitled "Dear Younger Me." It gets me every time. What would I say to my Younger Me? I think I'd start with "you aren't fat." Because thinking you are fat seems to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Not to mention that I wasted a lot of years believing that was true when it really wasn't and wasting a lot of life when it really was. So I'm fat. There are people our there with real problems. Cancer. Multiple sclerosis. Dairy allergies. Not to put that on the same plane as dread diseases, but... cheese!

Other things: 

• Do NOT let your husband take the job that pays more, but requires travel. Just don't. 

• Don't put your kids in school. You will waste a lot of time trying to unteach the idea that knowledge is something given to you (instead of sought), and can only be acquired during school hours (instead of joyously chased every moment of every day). 

• Don't spend a single moment waiting for others to step up to the plate. Just do it yourself. Fill the gaps without resentment. Whatever that looks like. 

• Travel more. Letting your passport expire will kill your soul. 

What things would you like to be able to tell your Younger Me?

Hear the song here. 

Full lyrics:

Dear younger me
Where do I start
If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far
Then you could be
One step ahead
Of all the painful memories still running through my head
I wonder how many different things would be
Dear younger me

Dear younger me
I cannot decide
Do I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life
Or do I go deep
And try to change
The choices that you’ll make ‘cause they’re choices that made me
Even though I love this crazy life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother ride
Dear younger me

If I knew then what I know now
Condemnation would’ve had no power
My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth
If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard

Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross
Dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart
A brand new heart
You are free indeed

Every mountain every valley
Through each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be
Dear younger me

"Agnotology" and the Rise of Opinion over Fact

2016 was a tough year for our old friend, Truth. 2017 looks like an equally rocky ride! 

As much as I enjoy Social Media, I'm going to blame it for the train-wreck of Truth. Our interactions in the digital world have somehow led us to believe that opinion is equal in importance to fact (climate change is one example). This phenomenon creates "sides" of arguments that don't exist in reality. We choose a side that comes with a set of arguments that fit our bias instead of really looking at [actual] facts. Then we go on to dismiss those actual facts and the sources for them, as "biased." 

People can't handle the truth! This best evidence of this is the enthusiastic "thanks" you will receive when you send someone a link to Snopes (or other fact-checking site) in response to a post you realize contains bogus information. Nada. You will never be thanked, enthusiastically or otherwise, for pointing out that a fact is twisted or false. I used to send the Snopes link via private messenger out of sincere concern that someone might be embarrassed by their honest mistake and just assumed the person would say, "Oops! I was punked. Thank you so much for telling me!" and withdraw it or issue a retraction. I'd wait. Crickets. Nope. You are much more likely to get the response: "You must be a liberal!" (Because that must be the only reason anyone cares enough to fact-check?) 

And then there is the "alternative fact." Most recently made famous by the American government -- much to my chagrin -- it has really been a "thing" for as long as people have been opinionated. Have you ever heard someone say, "Well, it may not be true, but it makes sense and is something to consider." Huh? If it is not true, I maintained that it should *not* be considered. 

I was delighted to recently find there is actually a word for this: Agnotology. "Agnotology is the study of wilful acts to spread confusion and deceit, usually to sell a product or win favour." (Clearly written by British folk.)  


Click here to read the article: http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20160105-the-man-who-studies-the-spread-of-ignorance

Let's try harder to keep our facts... well, factual. 

Giant Meteor 2016!

Like a lot of people, I'm not feeling very optimistic about the year 2017. Actually, that's probably the understatement of the year. The truth is, I look at the Year 2017 with a sense of impending doom. If I had placed a bumper sticker on my minivan during the recent (un)Presidential election cycle, it would have read read something like the one in this picture:

But see the caption? The downward spiral to utter chaos is not limited to every. single. political institution in America. This sticker was born in the UK. The slippery slope we are on has been mounted worldwide. Scary times.

Ironically, I've also -- at the risk of sounding like Oprah -- been thinking a lot about how I could live my best life, since it is slipping away at an alarming rate.😅 (Does that emoji have a milk moustache?) I'm now claiming Expert status at making New Years Resolutions, since I've been at it for probably 40 out of 51 years. This vast experience has taught me not to quantify my lists, because that's just setting myself up for failure. That's the same reason I don't read self-help books, but I digress. 😄 So here it is, in all its glory. My list of attainable goals for 2017. That is, if a giant meteor doesn't strike first. 

1. Read more actual books.
2. Write more.
3. Walk daily, hike more.
4. Drink more water.
5. Remember more birthdays.
6. Travel more.
7. Be a better friend.
8. Teach more English.
9. Do creative things more often.
10. Organize my house!

In my dreams, I would have included "learn a new language," or "learn to play an instrument," but if I can just toddle down to the mailbox once in a while, I will consider 2017 to have been a major coup!

After all, with this nice mushroom cloud compare it to, how can I go wrong?

 

Thanksgiving with a Side of Bittersweet Pie

I have always adored hosting friends and family for everything.  Truly, it is my favorite thing. I've made a bit of a hobby out of collecting serving dishes, trays, platters, tea pots, cute dippers, special knives for cheese, as well as crystal glasses for every conceivable adult beverage.

That said, Thanksgiving has long been one of my two favorite days of the year (the other is our Christian version of Passover).  I host the Thanksgiving dinner at my house annually -- or at least I have for the last ten years, or so, since we've lived in the House on the Hill.  All the local family come, along with whatever random friends and acquaintances they bring.  We've had people from Laos, people from Colombia, along with an interesting array of local yokels, and yesterday, a wonderful gentleman from China. The whole extended family has made a concerted effort to make sure everyone in our circles has a place to go. I try to make it fancy and festive, creating many family traditions, in hope of giving my kids some warm memories -- like using the same recipes and always having some child make a cranberry necklace for the turkey to be displayed in.  After dinner, we hang out together while the tryptophan works its magic, and then play games.  We often play into the wee hours. 

All that said, we are not the family Norman Rockwell would have painted at Thanksgiving!  

Although, who really knows what that poor woman had to go through to get to the point of serving a beautifully roasted turkey in a spanking clean apron to a table full of people dressed to the nines?

Mentally, if not physically, my hair is always standing on end by the time dinner is served.  I can handle the cooking, which I largely do the day before, but I really like to have a clean house by the time guests arrive. And since the normal state of our house is to be covered in dirty socks, Legos, and dog hair, that is no small feat.  It is actually very stressful for a mom with a very busy husband and three boy-children; of which the oldest two actually and literally hide in their room for fear of being put to work.  Although, to be fair, I have to say that my youngest (age 8) just embraces it with a series of cheerful inquiries:  "What next, Captain Mommy?!" 

To me, the process of delousing and expunging has always been well worth it when the first guests arrive and ooh and ahh at my lovely, cat-hair-free tablecloths and settings.  But, as I approach the half-century point, I'm realizing that what makes me happy just doesn't do a thing for all the men-folk around me.  Cranking at one another is not how anyone wants or needs to spend the morning of Thanksgiving.  That time should be preserved for Twilight Zone re-runs on Netflix, or the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on HGTV. Why, you ask, did this take me 21+ years of marriage and 18 years of parenting to learn?  Well, I guess I should change my name to the Queen of Denial on the Hill. 

So, with some mixed feelings, I have declared yesterday my last to host Thanksgiving.  At least for a few years.  The next year will bring many transitions for my family, as we shuffle some of the details of our lives in hopes of bringing more simplicity, more sustainability, and more peace.