Pandemic anxiety drove me into the woods. I walked out feeling parented.
There have been moments where this quarantine has felt like it was too much to handle. Perhaps you feel this way too. These are not the easiest times to find yourself in.
Before all of this went down I worked from home and from that standpoint I am luckier than most because my job hasn’t changed much just yet. That said I am just like everyone else in that my “workspace” has gotten a lot more crowded. I now have three more coworkers, two of which can’t make their own lunch, and all the demands of remote schooling thrown in just for fun. Oh, and our space is roughly 1200 square feet.
So yeah, it’s been an experience.
This by itself isn’t so bad but under the surface it feels like there is this constant pressure. There is of course the pressure of the pandemic itself but it’s more than that. I don’t even think we are through COVID19’s prelude yet and already the pressure to create meaningful and educational experiences for my kids, the pressure for my wife and I to impress our places of work with how productive we can be, and the pressure to go out as little as possible is adding up. Throw in a bunch of cold, sunless, and rainy days and no amount of Tiger King can distract you from it. Perhaps that isn’t a good idea in the first place.
Most days I can handle the pressure and put on a good face for my children but on Saturday (was it Saturday?) I started to break.
I woke up and my body was telling me, no it was commanding me, to go for a run. This is rare for me because I almost never just wake up wanting to run. The bodily chomping the bit was so persistent I felt compelled to follow it.
I hadn’t been outside for a few days because of the constant rain we had been having and I had no idea what the temperature was. It looked clear and by some miracle the sun was out so I put on shorts and a T-shirt and hopped outside. It was cold, freezing cold, but I decided to press on because I was already outside. I reasoned that if I went back in I probably would not come back out so off I went. I later learned it was 28 degrees
Thankfully for the last few years I have been a reluctant practitioner of the Wim Hof Method and this helped immensely with the chill. For the purposes of this article I won’t get into all the details but for those of you that might not know Wim Hof is a Dutch cold exposure enthusiast. His heavily accented voice came to my mind unbidden and I started mimicking it to myself as I ran.
Fully in. Letting go.
Concentrate, you are doing fine.
I ran, and breathed, like a motherfucker. It was exhilarating.
The human body is rather amazing and I adjusted to the cold fairly quickly. Before long I had I wound my way to a small park with a nature path and loped into the woods. I reasoned that the trees would shelter me from the wind which had started picking up. The still coldness of the forest washed over me as I entered.
After a short distance something in me wanted me to slow down and pay attention. The storms had been harsh to this place and the creek was high enough that it might have passed for a river if you closed your eyes and listened. I followed the trail along the stream and tried to stay focused on my breathing.
Other than the babbling brook it was deathly quiet. Typically in these woods you can hear neighborhood and highway noises but now it was silent. In that silence all of the fears and anxieties I had kept hidden from my children began welling up beyond my ability to control.
Fear I was going to lose my job.
Fear that someone I love might die.
Fear that I might die.
Anxiety over what is going to come next.
Anger at my spouse for not being perfect.
Rage at myself for not being good enough.
I was all too much and it was hitting me all at once. The happy facade I was wearing in front of my family was coming undone. I could not keep it in anymore.
As happens in these situations I started talking to myself. I needed to get it out even if it was to no one but me. I realized on some deep level that I needed a non-judgemental ear to listen to my grief. I needed a parent. This isn’t to say I don’t have parents but sometimes you need to be parented (small p) and other times you need to be Parented (capital P). Occasionally your real parents can Parent you but oftentimes this kind of soul-level care can only be done by you. I apologize if that sounds complicated. I don’t make the rules.
I was really letting it out. Streams and streams of anger and fear bubbling up out of my mouth. I am pretty certain I was speaking English but if I had a recording and it was just a stream of maddening tongues I wouldn’t be surprised. It felt good to let it out; to release it into the wild and let it run free.
After a few minutes of this I felt a deep sense that I couldn’t carry all this the same way I had been any longer. The anger and the fear I was hiding were going to get out of my control and hurt my kids or my wife and I didn’t want that. It was at this point of revelation that…and I hesitate to say this dear reader because here is where we begin cross into really woo woo territory…I sensed a voice that I can only describe as the forest itself speak to me. It said, “I can carry this pain for you. I am big enough to take it.”
I realize this sounds crazy and I also recognize that this exchange was probably all in my head. I am sure there is some psych major writing a paper on the bicameral mind right now that can explain all this to you with reassuring scientific precision. I am personally not interested in going there for now. I don’t need an experience, strange as it may be, to be explained in order to derive meaning from it.
I walked over to the stream, it had started sleeting at this point, and I felt a powerful urge to get in. I had the presence of mind to know this was a bad idea. I have done enough ice baths (thanks again Wim Hof) to know that jumping in alone in the woods is asking for trouble. I decided to compromise and just stick my hands in. Just because an ethereal voice says to do something doesn't mean you have to do it.
I squatted down and placed my hands in; the experience was immediate. I don’t mean the cold though that was there too. I mean the sense of tension leaving my body. It was like melting into the cool damp earth and becoming one. I took several deep long breaths and with each one I felt the stream sucking my anxiety out and washing it away.
I don’t know how long I was there in the stream but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. I stood up and felt shockingly good. Not perfect or completely unburdened but more able to carry what I was facing. The anxious energy wasn’t overpowering anymore. It was like it had been grounded out in the water.
I began making my way back home and more than anything else I felt seen. It felt good that someone, even if it was just me, heard my cries and listened without judgment just like a good parent would. My anxiety was accepted and regulated. I could face another week now.
I don’t share this story to tell you that you should go in the woods and put your hands in freezing water. Nor am I trying to convert you, offer you a cure, or tell you that the voice in my head is more real than the voice in your head. I share this story because I think it is important as adults to take moments to get our emotions out in a non-judgemental place. That can look like anything. What matters is that you get it out and feel like you were heard. Trust your own instincts to show you the best way to do this.
When we can’t be physically present with each other we have to find creative ways to parent ourselves and remain stable adults for the lives we have responsibility over. That is something “The Forest” taught me and I am grateful for it.
What about you? How are you making space to be seen and heard?
