1. Work a full-time job- This is not in most recommendations since the demographic receiving these tips are primarily those who have been identified as unemployed. But when discussing basic tools that help to maintain mental health- being employed is crucial. There is the paycheck, there is a schedule, and there are colleagues, all of whom are employed too.
  2. If you are unemployed, or are laid off, live your day to day life as if you’re employed. Get up in the morning. Look with the diligence you put into your career. Start after breakfast. Be creative. Treat it like it’s an exciting project you chose, and convince yourself it’s an exciting project you chose. Don’t ask for leads from the person standing at line waiting to buy groceries. But ask them what they do, and if they are willing to answer, and you can understand what they are saying from behind their mask, give them your card. If you don’t have a card, which you probably don’t, since you don’t have a job, ask if they have advise, or a contact. Tell them you appreciate their insight, or offer them a roll of toilet paper.
  3. Exercise. If you’re working you’re busy. If you’re unemployed and looking, you are busy. But put time in the calendar to move your body. I’m a fanatic, so I won’t say more, but just try it. You have options. Dance to your favorite music. Drag your dog on a walk, but when you’ve been round the block, leave her at home, and spend forty five minutes stepping around your neighborhood. Dance. Ride your bike. Find a friend. You have to move your body for a sustained period of time in a way that makes you lose your breath, or can’t to sustain a conversation. Strolling to Starbucks, or going to the mall doesn’t count, even if you’ll earn more steps than your friends. Sweat.
  4. Put your phone away an hour before you hope to fall asleep. Social media is helpful if you need your 884 friends to see how beautiful your cookies look on a plate, or are putting off looking for a job, exercise, or cleaning the kitchen. If you can’t go without, set limits. and if you’re still up at 11:30, watch late night.
  5. Spend time outside. In the woods, on the streets after hours, in a playground while most kids are home for dinner- if you can find a space in the world, you might remember life before now. Trees don’t carry covid, watching birds fly, leaves shiver, the glorious colors of the sun, and the moon, placid and silver- open your door and take a walk. The view might beat Netflix.
  6. Shower. When we aren’t seeing people, it’s easy to forget basic hygeine. Showers feel good. Body wash smells nice. And when you’re in the shower, you’re not wondering why everyone of Social Media is doing better than you or forcing your family to collaborate with you on a TikTok to show the pandemic has brought you closer together. you can be,
  7. While you shower, feel free to create the TikTok in your head, but don’t expect anyone in your family to go along. I use the time to sing along to the playlist called “Songs to Sing Along to in the Car” even though I’m in the shower.
  8. Lean on people you love, people you like who have indicated they don’t dislike you, and everyone else.
  9. Drop off groceries, check in on a neighbor, visit your friend and hang out on the porch, ask and listen to their answer when you ask “are you ok?” Let people lean on you. Helping others makes me feel even better than twenty minutes on the spin bike, thirty minutes wandering the woods, or a really hot shower.
  10. Vacuuming, checking your Twitter, scrolling through Facebook, and matching stray socks, can steal hours from your day. Consider how you’d like to spend your time. It’s valuable.

All my love,

Jules

I take an emotional inventory in the morning before I leave my bed.
I lie there, with my eyes closed, and try to feel how I’m feeling. Is my heart light in my chest, do my feet want to hit the floor and bring me upstairs? Does my skin crave another layer of blanket, does my head want to fold itself inside a pillow?

The first couple of weeks, almost every morning, I’d find that things didn’t look any better, and I’d dive into Facebook and feel worse until Sophie or I had to use the bathroom.

I will not tell you I’ve adjusted.
Or that in a month, a salad will come from our garden.
I will not tell you the time with the kids has been gift. It has been an revelation and complete pain in the ass.
I had the chance to know them when their only escape route is a screen. The fifth week in, it is easy to underestimate, and there is no end in sight. So I take notes and occasional pictures.

I check in with my overall state of mind all day long.

Today, I found joy, goofy, bird flying high, Christmas morning with toddlers and Santa, Bruce Springsteen in concert, joy.

At first, it scared me a little, this unfamiliar flutter, this smile that found my mouth, and lifted up to my eyes.

I don’t know, maybe it’s a symptom that hasn’t been documented yet.

I felt better almost all day, even though Katy and Colin are fighting over Netflix, Sheldon has some document I need to review, and it’s supposed to rain again tomorrow.

Tonight, I looked into the eyes of the cashier at Walgreens, read an update from my friend who works in the ICU, and washed my hands, like I’m Lady Macbeth on her worst day.

My spirit fell quiet, ached, went to wait in the wings.

Today, I glimpsed joy,
and it stayed for a bit.

I’m not sure why it came-
All I have to look forward to is clean sheets, a late night conversation with a friend, and pancakes for breakfast. I like French toast.

This joy isn’t strange.

I have clean sheets and soft blankets.
I have a friend waiting for my call.
I have pancakes for breakfast, and real maple syrup.
The coffee pot is set
so I’ll wake up to the smell of
dark roast and cinnamon.

I am blessed.
Sometimes, I don’t feel that way.

Today I did, for a while.

I need to work on that.

Love,
Jules