The Road (Behind and) Ahead

I finished 2019 under the painful realisation that I’d been experiencing intense PTSD for a few months and decided to start 2020 quietly and calmly. The year prior, a fellow therapist and friend had sent me a beautiful text from an unknown author, which basically said that humans in the northern hemisphere tend to go against nature in the winter months, in that these are some of the busiest months on our calendars. The text elaborated on how winter is a natural state of decay, rest, hibernation, and even death. Naturally, it can be quite counter-healing to run around parties in December and then hit January with all the resolutions we can find on endless blogposts online.

With that in mind, and PTSD in body, I decided to stop. During January 2020, I went to work on the days I had to work, and then I came home and watched TV or read books. I didn’t go out or see anyone on purpose. I needed to be with myself and to regulate my nervous and emotional systems. In February 2020, I started going to a few social functions and even applied to a few new jobs, as I began to feel more focused and hopeful about the future. I also started applying to PhDs, as I thought that’s what I wanted to do at the time. I took a trip to Scotland and visited some familiar and new places, and spent time with cherished friends. It was a scouting trip, as some of the PhDs I’d applied to were at my original alma mater, the University of Glasgow. I returned to London and started a new therapy job at the end of February and by early March 2020, my resolutions, or commitments to myself as I like to call them, had organically arisen in me, and I’d found a grounded focus for my personal life in 2020 which focused on joy and relationships.

I’d become aware of news of a new virus shortly prior to my trip to Scotland in mid-February, and by the second week of March, all my therapy sessions had become about the virus and the looming lockdown. Having been through my own health difficulties in recent years, I felt quite comfortable discussing and exploring everyone’s anxieties. On 12th March 2020, I published this on my Instagram stories:

“A lot of my therapy sessions this week have been about coronavirus anxiety. I found myself saying the same things to all my clients, so I thought of sharing them here too. I hope they help.

Firstly, let’s remove some stigma from what we may be feeling. Anxiety is a very natural response to situations like these. So is fear. And so is thinking about death. Health crises have a way to confront us with our own mortality. This is part of the process, if you like. And it’s oh so natural. We can use this confrontation to reevaluate our values, our goals, our connections to others. We can try and focus on being re-energised, or we can become subdued by it. Connect. Choose life.

Secondly, stay informed but try not to obsess over the news too much. Choose a time of day to check the news and do other things the rest of the time. Follow guidance backed by current scientific knowledge. Act responsibly.

Thirdly, in preparation for possible isolation or quarantine, begin to create a routine now, before it may reach that stage. This way, you transition smoothly into it, rather than give your nervous system a shock.

Finally, reach out to loved ones. Check in on them, via calls, texts, videos. We might not be able to touch, but we can always talk and see each other through screens and touch each other’s hearts. Don’t isolate yourself emotionally.

Remember, we can’t control outside circumstances, but we can always control how we face them. And how we face crises is never on our own. People need people.”

I wanted to share that, as much of it still applies. Less than two weeks later, the UK was in lockdown. I must admit, my workload slowed down a lot in the first few months, which makes sense. People don’t often go to therapy at the start of the crisis or even during a crisis, but only when things become unmanageable. I only became busy in mid-June, and by then, even I, an expert in emotional introversion and isolation, was beginning to crack. We can’t help but be shaped by the world we inhabit and see, and as a therapist, 2020 was a year shaped by great uncertainty, rage, loss, and grief.

It is now the end of December 2020, and I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say that I’m anxious about returning to work. Mainly because we’re still in the middle of the crisis, answers are few and unclear, and everyone continues to be incredibly restricted and fatigued. I would suggest that fatigue has become chronic in many of us, which is both a factor and result of survival mechanisms. The pandemic and its impact have sent most of us into survival mode, whether we like or recognise it. By this, I mean that there isn’t a lot of thriving in our lives these days – there can’t be, because our energy is being used to cope with constant uncertainty, fatigue, and loss. I’m not sure what resources I’ve got left as a therapist, or what answers to give to people moving forward. It’s not like we’ve been trained to manage the psychological impact of global pandemics, or that we know much more than everyone else. We’ve got a few insights here and there, that’s true, but we are also going through this. My most repeated line in the past year has probably been: we’ve never been through a pandemic before, so there’s no right or wrong on how to do it.

I also feel, quite in line, with the still prevalent stigma around mental health, that there hasn’t been enough talking about the mental health of therapists and other mental health practitioners during this time. Our frontlines may look very different, but they remain frontlines, nonetheless.

I’m but one therapist. One person. But I trained with dozens of them, worked alongside dozens more, have interviewed hundreds, have taught, clinically supervised, been managed by, trained, and became friends with plenty more. We come to the profession via different routes, interested in and motivated by different things, and with different values. Some of us focus on the mind, others on the body, others on the heart, and even on the soul. Some of us tend to explore the past, others the present, the future, or a mixed bag of all of the above. There isn’t a therapist who is like any other therapist. We are all different, because we are all different people. With different stories and histories.

I would like to think that all of us want to help. What motivates that wanting to help is in itself different for each of us. Some, have a very genuine desire to help and support (I see you, people with healthy attachments!), but I’d argue that the majority want to help others AND themselves. Many of us are motivated by our traumas, our wounds, our pain, and want to help others to not feel the same things we did, or to try and relieve them from the pain they’re already feeling.

Don’t worry, even though we may come into this profession to save or rescue others, we soon find out we can’t actually do this. Our limitations are one of our biggest lessons to learn as professionals. And I can’t speak for everyone, but this pandemic has really shown me my limitations as a therapist. And interestingly, they’re connected to my limitations as a person. Again, after another very difficult last quarter of the year, I realised that I hadn’t quite learned my lessons around rest, self-nourishment, connection to others, asking for help, patience, and time. I don’t have unlimited resources, and I forgot about that…again!

From where I stand now, it’s hard to look ahead for more than a couple of months. The collective trauma of what we’re all going through has made it increasingly difficult for me to imagine, to be curious, to be creative, and thus to find answers or insights. The psychological impact of this pandemic is actually unimaginable at the moment. We won’t fully feel it until this is all over, like with any personal crisis. We can’t see the impact whilst we’re in it, only after.

One thing I’ve discovered though is that it is possible to continue doing some life-changing things in spite of the pandemic. Friends of mine have moved houses, have gotten engaged, have moved countries, found new jobs, started a course. In fact, I’m about to start a new course in January and up until 2 months ago, I didn’t think this would be possible. But it is. And lately I’ve been thinking about all the other things I want to do that might also still be possible to do at this time. This will look different for everyone, so don’t think you have to do any of the above. My point is: is there anything that you could possibly still start in spite of everything? Anything that will give you a sense of moving forward and ahead, and might give you some hope and joy? This might just be the only thing I know for sure at the moment: it is possible to keep moving forward. What might this look like for you?

Take what resonates and makes sense; leave out the rest.

If you don’t know what to do, pause and rest.

If something isn’t working, stop, and try something else. Keep trying until you find something that works. Joy helps with moving out of survival mode.

We can’t control the world, but we can control some aspects of our personal lives.

Connect to others. People need people. We heal together.