Breaking News

I admit it. I’ve been watching too much CNN recently. I’m spending unhealthy amounts of my time tuned in to Wolf Blitzer, Anderson Cooper, and Don Lemon; hanging on Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s every word, and feeling deep concern for reporters fallen ill with Covid-19. (Get well soon, Chris Cuomo and Brooke Baldwin. We miss you!) Honestly? It’s round-the-clock news consumption, gorging myself on terrifying statistics and numbers that grow exponentially by the hour. In fairness, it feels like no one wants to miss a single update on the unfolding coronavirus pandemic. It’s become our national pastime.

I tell myself that things could be worse. I could be fixating on Fox News instead of CNN.

Yes. Things could definitely be worse.

The visible downside to all this compulsive news watching is that I’ve become a blurry-eyed, sleep deprived version of myself. One who staggers around the house in a tomato sauce-stained housecoat, unable to perform any but the basic functions of life. It’s like I’m reenacting favourite episodes of “The Walking Dead” in my very own home, a laughable concept if only it weren’t having such a detrimental effect on my mental health. As someone who episodically struggles with anxiety and depression, endlessly tuning in to CNN is not the best way to spend the bulk of my time. And—well, I don’t even like zombies anymore.

It’s not that I am unaware of this media trend of focusing on disaster, with its potential to drag me along in a downward spiral should I follow too closely. I remember the days and weeks following 9/11 when breaking news, none of it good, dominated television screens. To tune in to any channel at any time was to immerse yourself in the cumulative fear and anxiety of the greater society at large. There was no escaping reality; although, for the sake of sanity, it was important for me to find an off-ramp.

So, as a single mom of two young children during that time, I spent hours playing outside in local parks, taking long walks with two kids and a dog in tow, and borrowing family-friendly videos from our local library. Turns out, these were exactly the sorts of activities I’d been doing all along with my kids, before our world was forever altered by planes hitting the Towers at the World Trade Center. Normal routine stepped in to save me from my own self destructive tendencies and, in caring properly for my children, I inadvertently took care of myself as well.

If adhering to a normal routine is the solution to preserving my mental health in times of crisis, herein lies the problem. With kids grown up and more or less self sufficient these days, there is nobody needing constant hands-on nurturing and careful guidance living in my house anymore. In fact, my entire life is structured differently than it was 19 years ago.

My normal routine today (or, at least it was, up until a month ago) is comprised of leaving my house early each Monday morning to travel several hours into Northern Manitoba communities. There, I employ my skills as a speech-language pathologist throughout the week, before returning home Friday to a fully packed weekend. Come Monday, repeat.

Now, schools have closed for the foreseeable future. I have no work. I have no income. The differences that exist between life before the pandemic and life within the pandemic feel like a huge ever-widening-chasm, across which there is no means of passage. My old life is gone and what will replace it has yet to make itself known. What will normal look like in the weeks and months ahead?

The only thing that has remained consistent throughout my life is me. I am the same person with the same strengths and weaknesses as I’ve always been. I know myself well: I am a creative thinker, a solver of problems, and a person who does not give up on the hidden potential in myself or others. I know there are ways to create normalcy, to feel grounded, while we all tightrope our way across this historic event. It may be only a temporary normal, a lifeline to get us over the chaos of our current reality until a sense of stability returns, but it will be enough.

I look at activities I enjoy and interests I’ve always held to find my sense of purpose. Not surprisingly, when working full time I’ve often lamented that I did not have enough time for the things I want to do. So, I’ve started to make myself a list:

Walk the dog

Tend my houseplants

Day dream

Listen to unfamiliar music

Try new recipes

Speak with friends by phone

Start tomatoes from seed

Organize clothes for donation

Read more

Write daily

And look. Watching CNN did not even make the top 10!

I know that we are in a world-altering, incredibly difficult situation. I think it is important to remember we are in it together. So, if we all take care of someone during this time, be it our kids, a friend, a partner, or ourselves, and we do it for however long this lasts, in the end we will see emerge from this a healthier society. And I know that, despite my history of social anxiety and depression, if I do just two things each day, I will be okay. The first thing will be to choose at least one activity from my list to engage in for at least one hour per day. The second thing will be to locate the remote control from behind the couch cushions, and press the off button now and then.

Click.