Anxiety
Blues
Quarantine-imposed
isolation. We are living in a world where most people are voluntarily
distancing. While others are ignoring the diagnosis and are behaving as if we
are living in a state of normalcy.
If you turn on the news, it is vast in opinion-
extremist. Some stories are based on fact, research. Others are written by fear-mongers,
trying to put more faintheartedness, in an already concerned nation. This
topsy-turvy, pell-mell situation, is not going away anytime soon.
Blues and Grays in
outlook are ramped. Sunny skies seem like an illusion. The yellows of
contentment seem abated by the solemn shades of uncertainty and gloom. It is
spring, but it feels like a season we have never experienced before.
The leaves
are on the trees, flowers beginning to bloom, yet the hazy cover of lazaretto
is obscuring hope for many. I have faith, yet somehow, I lack amber and chrome.
Our emotional color wheel
is going to continue to spin. Mine is. We are going to be not just, physically
under attack, from an invisible enemy, but also fighting a deluge of despair. We might
not even notice right away.
It took me an instant to feel fatigued. But it took a few
weeks, for my spectrum to become dulled, muted. The crispness of lilac is now
darkened luster. Still with blight. Noiseless and insulate.
Depression
Gray’s
We are so focused on the
virus, rightfully so. The fast, refocuses us, away from the slow. The methodical.
The silent destroyer of spirit. We are not looking at the despondency- this is
why so many are in denial.
This is why so many are ignoring the inoculation
measures. Science can confuse. Statistics can blind. Far away circumstance, often refuses to allow some, to think closer to home.
Fear distributes many
feelings and this fervor is undeniably causing hiccups in the process of
containment. Saffron sparkles keep our eyes fixated on what we want. Normalcy,
going outside, being with friends and family, traveling.
Yet, somber heather
sneaks in behind. Tapping us on the shoulder. We do not know what it wants. So,
we turn a blind eye. The shimmer is much more appealing than the dingy.
When we lie down for
slumber, this silvery, leaden weight, undisclosed to some- burrows above us.
Lingering under our hope. We listen, we process, we cope. We try to make sense
of the science, statistics, predictions.
We lie awake, befuddled in our heavy,
beryl bubble. We see its edge we look through its opaque barrier. It feels like
we were forced into a densely approaching fog.
No end, no beginning-
just a cold mist. A cumbersome, awkward duvet. We want so desperately to kick
it off, stomp it to the floor. But we are so cold. Shivering in uncertainty.
Everyone around us is carrying this same ballast, so we choose to endure ours.
We stay noiseless, insulate, leaden. But we have to share our concerns. They
may feel baseless, even gratuitous- but they are very much real. They have
shade, hue and complexion. They are complicated and confusing because this new
normal is the same.
The
Pastels of Restlessness
To me pastels evoke a
sense of rebirth. They are not shiny and arrogant. But subtle and provoking.
They seem innocuous, but they are alluring. We want to keep things light,
simple- but in this time of restlessness and agitation- the pale seems invasive.
Too many voices, shouting their point of view. Nobody listening because the din
is so distracting. Pinks and lavenders mixing into a loud fuchsia.
The cloudless day has
become muddled with articulation and surrounded by speculation. What we want is
clarification. But we trudge empty, lilt forward, into the spectral nuance and perplexity.
Yellow is the color of health, so they say.
I am physically in the pink, as the
saying goes. I am not ill or infirm of body. But mentally, I can feel it- the
slow-moving lethargy, that leads to anxiety, depression and guilt.
Guilt that I am not doing
more. Guilt that my family is safe, and we have enough food. That I am an
educator, not a small business owner and my job is secure, for now. That I,
thank goodness, can’t imagine the upheaval and devastation occurring in other
parts of the globe.
I simply, can’t. I have never been HERE before. We as a
global community have never SEEN the likes of this before.
I want so much to be able
to fully understand the complexity of this. But my mind forces me, into an
escape mode. I mentally shut down. This sends me in a spiral, guilt, fear,
anxiety, depression. Depressed that our world is under attack.
Anxious that my
bubble, may be popped, during a battle, in which most of us are unprepared for.
Fearful that we will begin to see more empty shelves, less reason to connect. Behavior unbecoming.
Yellows
Creep In
Warmth, comfort, and clear familiarity, comes from the security of the blanket of weight. Our slumber laden duvet. The patchwork reality, the
new normal, it is hefty- it can be all consuming. But, as with all protective
barriers, there is a gap.
A section where we can peer over towards the horizon
and refortify. BUT we have to be willing to pull back the covers, in this dark
time, to do so.
Go outside. Look up at
the sky, it has not changed. Crumble the dirt in your hands, the ground has not
changed. Then of course, wash your hands for 50 seconds with soap. Rinse
thoroughly.
The juxtaposition is intense. The umbra is thick with the constant
reminder, something is lurking. We need to combat its density with optimism. We
need to climb its solidity with thick boots and protective gear.
Not just to
keep us physically guarded. But also, spiritually and mentally intact. We have
to maintain the golden hue of companionship and camaraderie.
We must remember that
fear, anxiety and depression harbor large anchors and gigantic fleets of
insecurity. They seem still on the gentle waves. But they are tumultuous as they drudge and toil against our foundation. This bay of despair is just as infectious as the physical threat we
face as a planet.
We overcome tragedy with clear eyes, that focus not only on the darker colors, but seek out the glimpses, of the beautiful glow. This illumination finds us,
unexpectedly in times of stress. Creating a current, life-giving and hopeful.
We lift our feet and kick, to propel ourselves forward, within it's motion. In cold or warm waters, we remember to swim with the current, not against it. For those who do, often get consumed by the vastness of the sea.
Remember to welcome the
yellows, blues, greens and yes- even the fuchsia’s and glorious metallics- they
fill in the colorful, nuanced aspects of our color wheel. Our moods. Our
outlooks and mindsets.
We will experience such vast ranges of tint, tinge and
tincture. Some will be blinding, others so faint we might miss them. But we have
to continue to look beyond our palate and find our balance.
We must articulate our fear, anxiety, depression and restlessness. Because the only way to combat it- is to attack it head on. Stay receptive. Stay mindful. Stay positive. Believe and keep hope close by. It is the buoyancy. It is the consistency that will bring us through the storm.
