April 5th, 2020 — Breaking Down

I apologize for the delay in entries.

As I am sure you are all aware, it has been a hectic time. I have notes for other things I want to share with you, but this issue has come crashing to the forefront for me, I think a lot of other people may be in the same boat.

I have spent the last two weeks in a variety of emotional states, from elation to outright despondency. A product of scientific and economic developments, and by the rise and swell of my own emotions during this time. After you are in a rhythm of being inside for whatever reason under immense stress — you become OK with the situation by degrees. At first, you are angry at the circumstances; you spend energy on WHY you are where you are. Next, you eat junk food or booze and try to have a good time regardless of why you are. After that you get despondent and then slowly, over time, you arrive at a new normalcy.

I know because I have been through this process twice now. Once during this quarantine, and once in 2017, when I was severely burned in an electrical fire with second and third-degree burns on both hands. I dealt with litigation, desperate uncertainty about my home, recovery from skin grafts, and MRSA that required me to be inside, under more restrictive conditions than we have now, for over a year.

I learned some things during that year that are serving me well now, and that I hope may be helpful to anyone reading this. First practical things — Find an engrossing hobby, whether on or offline. Learn an instrument, play a complicated game, learn to trade, read excellent books, engross yourself in online communities — something challenging that interests you, and takes time. Develop small goal-oriented tasks for your days, so you have a sense of accomplishment and finish some tasks daily to give your life some sense of momentum. Move your body for at least an hour a day. Whatever you like, yoga and martial arts work well, as do pilates and isometric workouts. Whatever you can do every day. Keep yourself calm, so you can make good decisions, learn vagal nerve breathing techniques to slow the nervous system during times of panic.

And finally: Prepare for breakdowns in yourself and others, prepare for getting back up and learning something from them, and for giving others space to do the same. Expect strange behaviors, acting out on long-buried grievances, raised voices, tense exchanges, strange lapses of thoughtfulness. I witnessed all of these things in myself and my roommates during the fire experience.

Everyone processes trauma differently, and for the most part people are reacting not to you, but AT you in relation to something they are processing internally. It’s difficult to separate when everyone is stuck in together. Act compassionately with your friends and family, and with yourself. Allow yourself the space to do what you need to make it through.

What we are going through now is a collective trauma.

Not a sudden one, like a gunshot or burn, a slow mental one more akin to unanticipated arrest and imprisonment. A defining moment, a reaction, and a long and stressful time under circumstances out of your control. People understand that prison in the modern penal system is one of the most traumatic things an American adult can undergo, and in no way should we minimize the blow to the collective psyche that the fallout from SARS-CoV-2 will cause and is causing right now. We will all have individual healing to do when this is over, in whatever way we can. But we can take measures to prepare ourselves mentally, and we can look to trauma communities, like the burn mental health community for guideposts as to how this healing might occur.

After my burns, once I moved through the initial emotional phases and into acceptance, an enhanced routine quickly became my new normal. The bandages and medication and wound care was no longer novel, no longer required energy other than the drain and repetition of the acts themselves. After clearing that hump, I noticed my experience would move in an emotional cycle that continues in some ways to this day. I would become acclimated to the pain, and weary of my routine - but more or less ok. Eventually, a sense of progress and stability overruled the pain and anger, and I would begin to feel good about what was happening. Until either by sickness or setback reality poked in, control was wrested from me again, and I spent another couple of weeks going through the cycle from the beginning, spending energy on a fresh injustice, to my own detriment.

I developed PTSD during this time and still struggle with severe muscle spasms in my face and neck. Finally, through therapy and time, I realized that I could not occupy the space of outraged anger that I was in and maintain the health of my body. Furthermore, I realized that the time spent outraged at many things was really deep unease about one thing: I was upset at losing my illusion of control.

Everyone wants to feel in control, of their life, other people, their situation. People WANT to control things on the best of days. When everything falls apart around them, they NEED to. I had to realize through painful experience that the only thing I can reliably control is my own reaction to situations and my own stability in mindset. Everything else beyond that is inherently risky on some level. It’s a fact well recognized by doctors. You can spend time being angry about that risk, and your inability to account for it. Or you can keep a clear head and move on.

It’s easier said than done, and it certainly took me five or six months, therapy and support groups to arrive at a place where I could focus on my own reactions. Fast forward three years, I am a part of society again, no longer isolated by pain, agoraphobia, and injury. I began to work, to play, to believe in the social contract again, and overall message of American society — You get some insurance, just in case, but more or less we ALL have control — of ourselves and the world at large. There’s no need to worry, you can live a life of freedom and ease because we’ve bought and paid for it. That’s the prime-time message of modern American life. It makes me and everyone else feel cozy to hear it, but it ignores the fact that we all will experience tragedy, hardship, and at this moment in time, we’re all experiencing it together.

So when these loss of control moments occur, be prepared to break down. It will happen. What you do in the next moments and days could be the difference between life and death for yourself or loved ones, and the ability to rebound from inevitable setbacks quickly is suddenly at a huge premium. I had my illusions of control this time around. We sealed off the apartment, have not been going out or seeing people for over a month now. We use intense biocontainment protocols on all food. We have been wearing masks at all times outside for at least three weeks, and we have all been healthy. I had settled into this routine, was making nice dinners at night, feeling confident and taking solace in the little bubble I had eked out when a literal hand reached into my life and shattered my illusions.

I had a bad feeling about the laundromat all day. A sick, nervous feeling. Everyone there together folding clothes too close, machines too close, sick people have to do laundry also, your clean clothes come out through possibly contaminated air and then into a bag — so many things wrong given our current understanding of COVID. I realized and stated to my roommates that we need to find a new solution to the laundry problem. We have been very good at maintaining quarantine for the whole house, and breaking it once a week to wash clothes is an obvious weak link in our procedure. We have ordered some washboards, and a drying rack — but these items have yet to arrive. The nearest option we have for washing is at a friend’s house that is a half-hour away. I had no transport to get there, especially with two large bags.

Despite my misgivings, I went to the mat. Half mask respirator like always. Sunglasses, earplugs. I was quick and precise in my movements. I did not leave my clothes in the drier more than 5 minutes after the stop time. I felt good — about clean clothes, getting home to write. I felt I had my stride, that maybe I had licked this thing and would get out without much of a scrape. Secure in my dreams of infallible biocontainment, I put on some fresh warm PJs and settled in to do some writing. Bedding and hoodies were on my bed, the rest of the clothes on the carpeted floor for sorting and putting away.

Four hours later I decided it was time to shower before dinner and bed. A good way to loosen up the shoulders after a long time spent studying and working. I went to the pile, to grab my towels when I realized they were gone. Every single one of them.
This was my entire bedding and clothing collection, all warm layers, all pants, all towels. And the towels were gone.

I lost it.

Great waves of anxiety, trouble breathing, shaking violently I sat paralyzed in the middle of the room. Colors brightened and my blood pressure spiked. My mind went quickly through the possibilities, but my thinking was disjointed — my mind felt confusing to occupy. What are the risk factors here, I asked myself? There is a large population of homeless people that camp around our mat, the neighborhood is fairly wealthy, and my towels were kitschy — not the sort of thing your wealthy neighbor steals. So the reality I was stuck with is that the entirety of my clothes collection had most likely been handled by a person with no regular access to hygiene services, who cannot quarantine and has been out on the streets for the entire pandemic. I felt violated. I felt outraged. Who, knowing what is happening, would take such a risk?

I could be infected. I could have a family member with a compromised immune system. They might take my disease back to their entire camp, where people certainly do not have access to medical and hygiene services required to deal with the situation. The worst part to me was, if he had simply asked me at the end of my dry if I could spare a towel, I would have said yes. It is a time for unity in San Francisco and across the globe, and I would never deny any human in need the ability to clean themselves up if I can do something to help. It’s common decency, and I wish some had been used in the interaction with my possessions.

I cried. I screamed, I stalked around the house searching in vain for a place I or a roommate may have placed them accidentally. I realized that once again, I cannot say if I know I am not exposed for 14 days. I threw a spray bottle at the ground. It was a grand display and a great waste of energy, and at the end — they were still gone. The possibly contaminated clothes were still all over my room and carpet, my mental stability was gone, and so was my sense of safety. For the next 48 hours, I spiraled down rabbit holes of despondency, vacillating between wild fear of possible exposure and intense anger at the unknown interloper that so rudely broke down my systems of control.

It took me several days to realize it, but I was experiencing a fairly severe relapse of my PTSD symptoms. The symptoms are hard to identify when you are in the middle of them, but retrospectively I can see it clearly. The visual disturbances, ratcheted breathing, racing thoughts, and shaking persisted for two days. During the second I began utilizing my techniques from trauma therapy and by three days out, I was OK. Able to write and share about the experience without feeling out of control or overwhelmed.

One of the things that helped me during the time after the fire and now, are some macro lens comparisons between myself and others in the world. Many people right now are existing at greater levels of stress, with more likely and more numerous exposure risks than me. I am lucky that I have been able to isolate myself as much as I have. The limited risk of the laundromat grabber, while violating, is nothing compared to the risk taken daily by the RNs, doctors, mailmen and bus drivers on a daily basis. They are persisting day after day, thank you to our #hospitalheroes! I quickly realized the possible exposure was not what had triggered me so deeply. It was the knowledge that despite my best preparations, the actions of someone and something completely beyond my control had a direct impact on possible outcomes for myself and my family — same as the fire, the same as many of the most upsetting episodes in my life. My roommates have seen me through both of these experiences. They let me fume and work out what I need to when I am not doing well. They have been understanding and gentle when my anxieties are irrational, and I have returned the favor.

I worked through my emotions over the next few days, and I am gracious for their handling of me during that time. I yelled at the wall, and was outwardly angry for 3/4 hours, then overcome by a bone-deep tired, I drifted off to sleep on a sea of anxiety.

The next day I was simply gutted.

All of my effort, time, and energy towards keeping myself and my family safe with some certainty blown by someone I never even laid eyes on. I shuffled around the house. I spent a lot of time looking at a picture from a national geographic that I have kept in a drawer since the fire. The picture is of two men, one mid-twenties the other mid-fifties, sitting together on the side of an avenue, intently staring over a board of checkers. Around them, the ruins of Aleppo sprawl in all their chaos and confusion. A tangled landscape of rebar and jagged blackened concrete. It looks like the end of the world, and they are in the middle of it, playing checkers. Years ago when I first saw the image, it struck a chord. Even amidst wild trauma and stress, you can find a way. A way toward normalcy, undistracted thought, and interaction with your fellow human. I aspire to get to that level of relaxation in my day to day life. It’s still a work in progress, but I get closer and closer the farther I go along, the more involved I get with self-care and analysis, and the more trauma I experience.

The reality is, no one has control, at any time of the entirety of any situation. On the best day, a bus might go out of control or an airplane fall from the sky. There are no guarantees in this life except change and uncertainty. The systems we use to convince ourselves otherwise, come at a price — fixed expectation and rigidity in thinking and action, and inability to conceive of circumstances beyond said control system. We are watching the consequences of this in real-time, every day, as people are slow to realize the danger we now face.

There is no place for that kind of rigidity of thought in a biological disaster, doubly so in one where you do not fully understand the agent you are working against. Business as usual mindsets have now cost us time, what we have yet to learn is the true cost in life.

The big take away for me that I realized over the last few days, as I felt better — is that I got off easy. There are people and organizations with much more elaborate control schema and much more at stake than just their own lives and that of their families, that will affect their decision making until they can no longer persist without accepting the changing reality. When those illusions are finally shattered, the shockwave will affect us all on both a personal and societal level.

So in the end, I am thankful to the grabber.

I accept the limitations of my control in this situation, I am glad I was checked early on, I think I will be much better off for it.