The Mad That You Feel

Rick Blaine said, in an attempt to do the right thing and send Ilsa back into Victor Laslo’s arms, “the feelings of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” With a pandemic raging, his words ring poignantly. Being anything other than focused on the big picture is wrong- no, selfish.

Since our Corona confinement, the question of “How are you?” has become difficult to answer. Alright. OK. Bummed. These are my go tos as of late. Bland, polite responses that don’t carry a weight equal to what’s going on in the world. Despite their inherent blah-ness, I couldn’t find better ways to sum up my general state of being. I think Rick would approve of the stoicism being hailed out there.

The fact something was rotten in the state of my emotions was driven home the other night. I nearly pitched my phone across the room over missing out on the single remaining package of elastic in Joann Fabrics stock. Talk about a straw and camel’s back, right?

That wouldn’t usually evoke that kind of response out of me. Maybe an eye roll or a “Come on!” shouted at the device’s screen. But, this isn’t normal times.

I had been to the grocery store earlier that day. Never my favorite place to go, but lately, it’s become a source of extreme disappointment. On the trip leading to my phone’s near demise, I had stepped out of my car to find a pair of plastic gloves discarded on the pavement. Who would be so concerned with their own safety but have such little regard for anyone else’s?

Delving into the answer isn’t something I want to explore. It’s why some shelves in the grocery store now have to have signs indicating purchase limits. Unharnessed selfishness is what it is.

Sorry, Rick, this is the moment for noble stoicism or keep calm and carry on.

Truth is, I’m not alright or OK. There is a bit of bummed floating around, but that doesn’t cover all of what I’m feeling. Irritated. Anxious. Upset. Mad. Far less polite and would probably stop a conversation dead with a heaping amount of awkwardness. All much better words to describe my current state of affairs.

Mr. Rogers wrote a song asking, “What do you do with the mad that you feel?” (Link to lyrics) This song was reused throughout the series and had a prominent spot in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. As much as I like Casablanca, I think the question Mr. Roger poses is a better compass to use to navigate this new normal.

It’s funny. Fred Rogers took a hiatus from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood in the late seventies. He wanted to work on a project aimed at adults. His approach didn’t resonate with adults the same way it did with kids, so Mr. Rogers returned to his neighborhood. That might sound like a failure to some. But, by returning to the audience who needed and loved him the most, he succeeded in achieving his goal of reaching adults.

So, what do you do with the mad that you feel?

Well, I’m not a psychiatrist, and I won’t pretend to be. And as therapeutic as pounding clay or dough is, I’d just end up turning that into Stollen bread. My waistline doesn’t need that, and I think the situation calls for more. I’ve only got what has been working for me, but I figured it was better than playing make-believe that nothing is wrong.

Routine

That’s one thing I’ve been clinging to pretty tightly. I get up at six AM a few days a week. As much as I can due to the crappy weather, I keep to my exercise schedule. This is going to sound cheesy, but I do change out of sweatpants each morning, blow dry my hair, etc. My calendar still gets filled in each week with all the things I want and need to do.

In fairness to COVID-19, my routine has been floundering since mid-2019, thanks to office upheaval at work. Now it’s been put through one of those high-end shredders and barely qualifies as “in tatters.” The sneak peek I got last year has given me an appreciation for the power routine has.

The list above has things superfluous to a home-centric life on it. Who cares if I wear sweatpants every day? Why not let the exercise slide for now? Why get up at 6 if your commute is two minutes?

All of those little things allow me to feel like something is still normal. Modifying the habit or chore doesn’t really make a difference. I don’t wear completely work-appropriate clothes, but they are more than a step above my Saturday morning lounging clothes. I even change after work into “knock around clothes,” as my Mom would say.

Having those hits, so to speak, throughout the day makes me feel better. A professional would probably say this is tied into the need for control. I don’t doubt it if it is. Control over anything right now sounds like a luxury. If you have to manufacture it, well, who’s going to blame you?

Lowering the bar

This one might seem contradictory to routine, but I think they partner pretty well. Over the past three weeks, I haven’t come anywhere close to replicating my routine in my new normal. It’s just not possible. Not only because my social circle has been physically reduced and options limited, but because we are all operating under high-stress levels right now.

Being asked to stay at home hardly seems like a qualifier for the designation of high stress. The reality is, though, it’s not the stay at home order. It’s the grim numbers we are up against. And we have to face them physically cut off from the people we love most. A direction that goes against every instinct ever evolved.

I’m not someone who can get behind statements telling me I am not going to be able to do something. This one though, I can’t argue with and, frankly, I don’t want to either. Which is odd, since I also like to argue.

I didn’t set a running goal this month for the first time in two years. I’m at the whim of Mother Nature for beautiful days. How many opportunities I’ll get is out of my control. I’d be setting myself up for disappointment. Instead, the running intention for April is to get out when I can. That’s all I can do.

Not going to lie, when I set that for myself, it felt better than when I keyed in a number into the Garmin dashboard I use. The times I got out in March were more enjoyable than my February jaunts to the gym.

I’m using running as an example. I’ve needed to bring the bar down on a lot of things, this blog included. I had to put the pen down before steam started pouring out of my ears. The break and reset were absolutely worth it. Do only what you can.

Old Favorites

Comfort food is a widely used term, but after the last three weeks, I’ve realized there are comfort movies and comfort games too. As some of you know, I used Who Framed Roger Rabbit to rejuvenate my spirits the other week. Roger and Eddie provided the laughter required to fight off the dull drums. Slapstick was made for times like these.

This weekend past, Adam and I sat down and revisited Mario Kart to a similar effect, albeit in a different way. That pounding some dough or clay that Mr. Roger’s was singing about? Mario Kart is the video game equivalent.

If there is one thing we can all agree on, it’s that Mario Kart is a lightning rod for heated gameplay and arguments between players. Sure it starts out friendly enough. But the minute the first leader shell flies, the atmosphere in the room changes. Everything is a little bit more serious. As I like to say, all’s fair in love, war, and Mario Kart. Of course, it’s all in good, competitive fun.

A lot of our frustrations were released tossing naners, throwing shells, and even being pulled back into the course by Lakitu. We got away from the news. It felt like an ordinary Friday night spent staying in. I wouldn’t call it a vacation, but it was a much-needed pause.

There are plenty of outlets for the hefty set of emotions swirling around these days. What works for me might not work for you. That’s what Mr. Rogers was trying to get at. Find what works for you to harness that anger into something that works for you rather than against. Stay safe, Nerd Girls!