Image From Unsplash by Priscilla Du Preez
BLUES /blooz/
melancholic folk music, originating with African Americans in the rural South at the end of the 1800s.
I got the blues, can't be satisfied today.
I got them bad, want to lay down and die. (Seal Baby Blues)
We get the idea. In the Pacific Northwest, I usually reserve my blues for the long gray winters, when me might not have a truly sunny day for over a month. The doldrums. The dumps. Doom and gloom.
We get them. Even the words we use for the blues, for melancholy, for depression use heavy, sluggish, sounds often blunt d’s and b’s. The soft hissing s’s in depression. The seemingly endless sighing oohs in moodiness and gloom.
Mystics can call this a dark night of the soul, when it appears all consolation has vanished.
Many of us may be facing our own set of blues in our new world of virus and illness. The new age of worry and isolation. I have been amazed at how new phrases suddenly become common speech, almost overnight: “shelter in place,” “social distancing,” and “flatten the curve.”
Three weeks ago, these words did not seem to exist.
And just as suddenly, in our efforts to flatten the curve, in our socially conscious for-the-common-good efforts at self-isolation, the blues can come crashing down upon us. For all of us. Single or partnered. Childless or at home with our children. Younger or older. The physically fit and those with pre-existing health conditions.
“I hate platitudes.
They suck.”
Depression and melancholy, loneliness and the longing are no respecter of persons. They come like an unwanted house guest and can turn into the worst of roommates.Distraction doesn’t always work. A dance party on social media may only be a momentary solution.
We are faced with new ways of living as COVID-19 continues to spread. It can get us down. It is normal and it is natural. Some of us may be depressed. Some of us may be experiencing anxiety. Some of us may suffer both, and often. This is natural. It’s okay.
The secret my depression and anxiety try to use once they have me down is to try and convince me that RIGHT NOW has always been like this. The past was always like I fee right now. And worse, the future will never feel better.
This is always the lie. The one I often miss. The one I need reminding against.
I hate platitudes. They suck. And most often when people say them to me, especially when I am suffering, I want to punch them in the throat before they can finish telling me, “God works in mys—-urggggh!!!”
The truth is, no matter where we are at today, we are still in the middle of a new way of doing things.
It takes time to adjust. It takes time. It will take you time.
Be gentle. Remember you are adjusting.
It is often easier for us to be gentle with others. To forgive them their shortness or flipping out because we know they are under stress. They are worried. They are doing the best they can.
But how often do we remember that WE TOO are stressed, worried, and coping?
How often do we forget to forgive ourselves for not being perfect at every moment?
I know, I am often the hardest with myself. Harder with myself even if I am snapping at others. More angry at myself for not “getting it together” than I am when I complain about who is responsible for a lack of test kits or masks at hospitals.
This week, give yourself permission to be exactly where you are at. No polish. No making things pretty for your social media feeds.
Tell yourself, it is OK to not be OK.
In your prayers, ask the Compassionate One, to allow yourself to be compassionate toward yourself.
If you are falling apart, reach out to someone via phone or text or Zoom or Skype.
Reach out to me if you need to. We can fall apart together. We can let the blues in and maybe, just maybe tomorrow, we can show them the door out.