Reverting to familiar ways of coping
And dealing with the stress of the election
My therapist used to tell me that people revert to old ways of behavior when stressed. It’s pretty common apparently for people under pressure to fall back on familiar coping mechanisms … even if those behaviors were unhealthy or didn’t work in the long run. Often the behaviors, especially for me, stemmed from childhood trauma.
When stressed, I used to rely on some of my favorite addictions, distraction, disassociation, anger eating tons of sugar and anything else that would numb me to reality.
After many years of therapy, I prefer to deal with hard emotions with my writing, painting, meditation, relaxation techniques, healthy eating, lots and lots of water, and talking with friends and close relatives among others.
The last couple of months stress has been high on the Richter scale from the often-violent hate-filled rhetoric coming from the campaigns (one in particular) and the election aftermath earlier this week. I sat down and wrote the following on Wednesday morning:
The five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I’ve run. Through them all today. Shock and denial that the GOP won again, anger at the misogyny in this country, bargaining … please universe don’t let this be the truth, severe depression like someone let all the air out of my lungs. And acceptance. I can’t change anything about the election and its outcome. I’ve been cycling through them all day – not necessarily in that order.
Let’s call the election what it really was, men voting against women’s lives. That’s what bothers me the most, on top of everything else that bothers me the most, the misogyny and the racism.
I really want someone to blame and there are several groups right off the top of my head: Republicans; all the Maga idiots that follow the GOP; men for being so fucking stupid; women for not standing up and refusing to be placed in a situation that puts us back 100 years. If only it helped to blame someone. Still, I can’t change it. But the rage remains.
Where does that leave me?
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
The only place I’ve gotten any relief today is when I wrap myself in self-love and move into gratitude. I’m much better when I’m in a place of gratitude.
One of my favorite things to write on Facebook is … “Gratitude – brought to you today by Sesame Street and the “blank” letter. Today it is the letter G: Gentle, always always being gentle with myself and others. Grace. Giving grace to myself and another person is simply to forgive them, unconditionally and is derived from the Universe’ divine nawe ture. I am hopeful that I can work to Galvanize others. To bring us into a place where there is more unity and less vitriol, violence and hatred.
And then I’m angry again. Driving to my art class this morning I saw one of those big pickups with Idaho license plates, adorned with a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag on one side and a “You-Know-Who” flag on the other side. I literally had to slow down and talk myself out of screaming and crashing into the back of this guy’s fucking black truck.
Back to extreme self-care. I’m going to breathe into my belly today. I’m going to drink lots and lots of water. I’m going to take my little self to my watercolor class so I can forget everything for three hours. I’m going to write and write and write until this monkey brain is out of my head and onto paper. I’m going to take in all the love of friends, my daughter, my sisters and honor the hard work of Kamala Harris and Tim Walz during their short campaign. And to be grateful that seven states passed ballot measures supporting abortion.
I’m expecting more grief during the coming days and anticipating keeping my television turned off. My Corgi will like it. He’s terrorized by all the dog commercials and goes into protection mode, trying to launch himself into the TV, especially the one with the German Shephard and the Rottweiler. I hope my sense of humor returns sooner rather than later.
As someone else reminded me this morning, “I don’t know what a prayer is. I’m even less clear on exactly what God is, or if God is,” — Mary Oliver
But God please help us.
Well said. Thank you. Just picked up Xavier Amador’s book “I am not sick, I don’t need help!” While it’s mostly for me coping with my mentally ill daughter, I think it may help me move out of the stages of grief you referenced.
Thank you for writing so clearly and honestly about what most of us are feeling.