The Truth about Truths: Embracing and Navigating Contradiction in and Beyond Recovery

Something I learned in therapy was that two things can be true at the same time.  It can be that the way someone else views something may completely contradict the way you see it, but ultimately both views are true because both of you are experiencing it.  This two truths concept also applies to thoughts and beliefs we host within ourselves

A lot of the therapy I underwent for my eating disorder recovery focused on identifying and embracing these kinds of insistent contradictions

For example, one truth I held steadfastly was, “I don’t want an eating disorder.”  And another equally real truth I had was “I am scared to give up my eating disorder.”

The key to being able to navigate both truths is to embrace them both— NOT set them up in conflict to one another.  The first step is as simple and as subtle as word choice when speaking or even thinking about them. 

We tend to use “but”  when comparing two things that seem to contradict one another:

“I don’t want an eating disorder BUT I am scared to give it up.” 

However, something changes when you replace that “but” for “and”: 

“I don’t want an eating disorder, AND I am afraid to give it up.”

The latter validates both perceptions but does NOT so planitively put one above the other. 

“But”  infers that the fear is stronger than the will to live without an ED.  “And” allows the possibility to be afraid, but do it anyways.  




There is a story about a warrior and his meeting with fear, taught by Pema Chodron.  The ultimate revelation the young warrior comes away with from this meeting is that bravery is NOT the absence of fear;  It is feeling the fear, BELIEVING it, with every cell in your body, and facing it anyways.

It is not: “I want to, BUT I am afraid.”  It is: “I want to, AND I am afraid.” 

Unlike the former, which almost immediately dismisses any action, the latter births the opportunity for both truths to coexist, and for the fear to be conquered.  

I am not currently in therapy, and I’m not really “recovering” anymore, but I am still living in this place of navigating two truths.  

A big one right now that I hold is: “I am so grateful to have made it this far in my recovery, AND I am sometimes nostalgic for the identity my eating disorder gave me.”

Another is: “I am proud of my body, and I love being healthy AND I often think I would be happier if I lost weight.”

Sometimes these truths are even more specific to a moment. Take this past week for example, when I took a spontaneous trip to a family cottage for some r&r by the lake.  I was having repeating thoughts of “I really want to get a good sweat from a workout AND I want to relax and do nothing.”

And on a similar train: “I feel guilty and not hungry for dinner from eating so many appetizers on the dock AND I am still looking forward to eating more at dinner.”  

It’s hard, honestly, navigating these two often equally compelling voices.  Ultimately, the healthier one always drowns out the one I know instinctively is rooted in my ED neural pathways.  That’s what makes it uncomfortable.  Continuing to eat, and rest, and attempt to feel happy and at ease in my skin, and to NOT fixate on what I eat or how much I weigh, while simultaneously living with this feeling that I “should”  be doing a lot of the things that I used to do (a lot of things that a lot of people without EDs do: opting for “healthier” options, watching what they eat, having a strict workout regime, etc.)

Sometimes, it feels like I’m driving backwards on the highway, trying to live up to the healthier truth.

Even though I am pretty good at this point at doing the right things for my mental and physical health, there are still moments when it seems like the wrong thing. 

Restricting and exercise were always a quick fix for any larger stressor in my life. 

Fighting with my family?  Don’t eat dinner. 

Feeling sad or lonely that I didn’t have plans on a friday night?  Go for a run. 

Realizing how lonely I am, feeling disconnected from all my friends?  Try even harder to change my body, thinking if I looked the way I thought I “should” look, I would be more likable, more loveable, and regain those kinds of connections I had thwarted.  

None of these quick fixes ever really fixed anything, obviously. They only led me further into my eating disorder and farther from the kind of connection and happiness I was seeking.  

So I do realistically and rationally understand that attempting to change my body, or start actively controlling my food or exercise is NOT the answer to any of my concerns today.  But (or and, as I should say), I still have fleeting thoughts that these behaviours will

I’m writing this blog post right now to remind myself of this ultimate truthtwo things can be totally contradictory and still coexist equally as truths.  Feelings are real, and valid, but they do NOT need to dictate our actions.  We can feel the fear, believe it,  and face it anyways.  

Hopefully this reminder might render itself useful for you too. 

What are some conflicting or contrasting beliefs that you hold?  How might replacing that “but” with “and” alter your perception of how to navigate them?  Often the right path is the hardest one to take.

Don’t sell yourself short by opting for the road that feels easiest in the moment, but ultimately never gets you to the place you wanted to get to in the first place. 

Embrace the “and.”  Do the hard thing.  And in the moments where you fall victim to the contradiction, have the self-compassion and grace to pick yourself back up and carry on, because life is too short to live in debt to your own regrets anyways. 

Love and light,

Jae





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adhd, mental health, mind and body, inspiration Jordan Prosen adhd, mental health, mind and body, inspiration Jordan Prosen

ADHD and Me

I’ve been struggling lately.  Not so much with food or eating disorder things.   More with life in general.  Like I am a step behind in everything I need and want to do, without any tangible obstacles in my way, and I still cant seem to get them done. 

From keeping my classroom organized, to tidying my condo, to writing this blog post.  I NEVER seem to be able to carry out the act of completing any of these things until some external pressure has me backed into a corner (like parent-teacher interviews forcing me to organize my teaching desk). 

It’s making me feel as if I am wasting precious time, the very thing that motivated me so strongly to overcome my eating disorder’s compulsions and routines.  

Now I have this extra energy and unscheduled time, and instead of using it to the fullest, I still feel stuck to something.  And not just one thing, but a thousand little things, pulling me in a thousand different directions ultimately keeping me stuck in one place, vibrating awkwardly rather than making any actual strides. 


These feelings are NOT new.   Its just without all the eating disorder struggles consuming most of my brainspace, they have taken up more prominent residence in my life.  


It’s not just that I feel unproductive.  Yeah, it’s annoying that my room is messier than I want it to be, that I can’t seem to remember where I put a giftcard I was gifted for the life of me, that this blog post I started a month ago I still haven’t finished. 

But it’s impacting the way other people see me, and the way I see myself.  

Take Superbowl weekend.  We decided to throw a little party at my parents’ house, inviting my siblings and a few friends to watch the game half time show and eat lots of food. I decided to try to recreate the quinoa onion rings from Fresh, knowing how obsessed my boyfriend is with them, and also helped prepare a Tex Mex feast of nachos, enchiladas and BYO burrito bowls.

There was a bunch of us in the kitchen working with and around each other, navigating counter space and cutting boards, commandeering the SONOS speakers, trying to time everything so that it was all piping hot and ready to go for the start of the game.

Of course, in typical Prosen-family-style, the food was ready just seconds before Rhianna strode onto the stage at half time. But pretty much all of us only cared to see that part of the game anyways.  So perfect timing! 

I plated the onion rings, from their paper towel lined drinking dish onto something more serving worthy, quickly ran a cloth over the counter, rushed to put some spice bottles away and dashed downstairs. 

I felt like I was being pulled so many ways-- my siblings and boyfriend downstairs, waiting for me to join them, my aunts attempting to navigate the kitchen and also wanting to catch up with me, and my pole standing there in the middle of it all, staring me down for not having used it all day, despite that being one of the first things on my to do list.  

But I was able to exhale, with that final onion ring scooped onto the platter. It was halftime, dinner was done, and we could all be downstairs to eat and enjoy together.  I had even managed to sneak in a couple ayeshas as things were cooking. 

It was only the next day I was subjected to a different perspective.  According to my mother, I dashed downstairs without a glance behind me, leaving a whirlwind of greasy surfaces, unwashed dishes, and dirty floors in my wake.  She was genuinely hurt by it, feeling like I had intentionally thought to assign her the task of cleaner.


It’s so selfish, when you do these things.  Like you just expect other people to clean up after you. As if its only your time and what you have to do that matters and not mine
.  

And that devastated me. Was I really that selfish?

It did cross my mind that I should tidy up my mess-- thats why I wiped the counter and put away the things I used.  But did I think to check the floors, or the other areas of the kitchen?  Maybe for a second.  But I was really just consumed by this urgency to get out of there as fast as I could with the food so that it could be enjoyed by everyone while it was hot and at its best.  It didn’t even cross my mind at that moment what the state of the rest of the kitchen was in, or when it would be addressed.  



Its not the first time I’ve been called out for my whirling dervish messiness.  My first house I shared with roommates, I was horrified the first time my friend sat down with me and gently broke it to me that I was “messy.” 

I thought I was being so careful to clean up after myself, everytime I used any kind of common area.  My students at school have even asked me what my desk is “such a mess.”  And it’s really only at that moment I see my stacks of papers and notebooks as a mess and not in tentatively organized stacks of “to-do nows” and “to-do-laters.”  

I’m struggling with this because its more than just being a “messy” person.  It’s more that the mess is a symptom of a greater, underlying issue: attention and hyperfixation.  

An issue I am only beginning to wrap my head around.  I was actually diagnosed with ADD (now categorized as ADHD on the DH-5 scale) when I was in grade 4 when my teacher noticed my difficulty in transitioning from task to task.

 

However, I managed to do well in school, and I was not bouncing off walls the way most people assumes people (boys) with ADHD tend to behave, so no one gave much thought to this diagnosis: not any doctor, my parents, and not me.

It was only recently, as I have gotten to know more people living with ADHD, that I have come to understand some of the myths and misconceptions that exist around it.  

As one a video by How to ADHD put it, ADHD is less of an inability to pay attention and more of an imbalance of attention. 

It’s not that I, like other “ADHDers” cannot focus on anything.  It’s that we have difficulty training our attention on something that is not giving us an immediate hit of dopamine to our apparently, under-dopaminated cortexes. 

My lack of ability to tidy and organize spaces is because my brain is so heavily fixated on something else, whether its a pole class I am about to run out the door for, an upcoming trip I am planning, and less healthily, anxiety regarding some eating disorder thought permeating. 

That one fixation consumes all my attention, appearing in screaming colour, with all other tasks and thoughts muted and black and white in the background. 

I don’t like living this way, at the mercy of whatever thought is giving me that hit of dopamine, limiting my ability to comprehend and act in a way that acknowledges the big picture of whats going on around me. 

So I am taking steps to figure out how to function with this ADHD that I am finially acknowledging. 


I could write so much more about what I am already learning, but this blog post is long enough.  Hopefully, I will manage to have trained my attention to write more posts on this ADHD discovery journey as I go.  


Have you ever suspected you might have ADHD?  Have you ever held any of the same beliefs I did about how it manifests?

Stay tuned to see how this chaotic brain of mine is working to sort itself out.





Til next time, 


Jae









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Tis’ the Season (for being sick) — some musings about resting to return back to health

I feel like some kind of omniscient game is being played on me. Looking back on my bullet journal from last december, it turns out the very same day I came down with the covid last year, is the very same day —- December 13— that a whopper of a cold hit me this year.


For the past 3 days I’ve been coughing my lungs out, nursing a headache and a fever, and not able to do much other than sleep, eat, watch TV, and occassionally fiddle with my knitting.


Perhaps even more karmic, is that this cold hit me right after I was beginning to feel some of the inklings of my usual pre-holiday anxiety about being out of my routine, subject to more food and indugences, and less opportunities to exercise, and how that might wreak havoc on my body, and my mind. It was the fist weekend of several from now until post new years— of holiday parteis and events with family and friends, with all kinds of boozy drinks and full dessert platters and and rich hearty meals.

It was a fabulous weekend— the Friday I was at my partner’s work christmas party, where we stayed well past midnight before heading back to our hotel only to carry on the party at the bar, and then the room.

Waking up late the next day, we were just in time to pull ourselves together and make it out for my family’s big neighbourhood Chritsmas party that night, where there were even more food and drinks to be had.

Sunday, was our family’s celebration of St.Nicholas day, essentially a warm up to christmas with a table of plates being magically filled with all kinds of small treats and goodies over night. Its another lazy festive morning in pajamas, lovely and lots of fun, but once again, out of my usual food and movement routine and after a two previous days of festivities, it was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

The nagging voice in my brain started to pipe up again. I was acutely aware of how many days- how may hours— it had been since I had gone for a long “enough” walk, done a quad draining bike ride to class, or had a training session for pole. I also found myself becoming more and more aware and anxious about my body, and how it was changing (if it was. Are my thighs closer to touching? Is my stomach bigger? My arms feel like they arer flabbier.


In reality, it had been 3 days— not long enough to make any drastic changes.


And when I did go back to doing 2 pole classes that following Monday, I felt as if my body was instantly back to the way I wanted it. Obviously, not because a coule pole classes have that kind of body sculpting power, but because I never really changed in the first place.

It was just my anorexic, compulsive brain kicking me in loud enough to believe it.





Yes, it felt good to move after that rather sedentary week. I felt like I could exhale, already planning and lookig forward to resuming my fairly active routine up until gouing head to head with christrmas.





But waking up on Tuesday with a bad chest cold and the chllls it became evident that wasnt quite the case. I had come down with the same virus that took out a number of people at a party we went to over the weekend.

I was laid up on the couch for three days. Too tired and full of phlegm to exercise or even pole— even if I wanted to.

The funny thing was, my anxiety didn’t skyrocket being sick and sedentary (again) like i expected it to. In the past, when I was severely disordered, ity would have been practically impossible for me to have layed on a couch for three days especially after a weekednd of food and festivities.

The only way I probably could ahve coped owuld have been by eating as little as I could possibly get away with, thinking my bdy relly didnt need it if I wasn’t being active. I remember sneaking in squats and jumping jacks and situps in my bedroom if I was sick for more than a single day, and even quietly lacing up my running shoes to sneak out for a run, despite a sore throat and chest cough.





It wasnt even because I wanted to. It’s because I needed to. The only thing that I was dreadinfg more than the cold air in my inflamed lungs in that moment was having to be lying down for another minute, my mind being attacked by pulsating anxiety and shame over “what I was letting happen” to my body .




Being sick this year in a way was like a breath of fresh air. For three days, I didnt sterp foot out of my house, or even my pajamas. Even after my fever broke and I was feeling a bit more energetic on the second day, I still prioritzed rest,, and enjoyed watching christmas movie after christmas movie, knititng and crafting and puzzling in the glow of the christmas tree lights. Yes, I still felt small tremors of guilt, for choosing this kind of routine even when I probably could have braved a walk around the block. But these were just ripples, not the tidal waves that used to overtake me.





I don’t know if the timing of this onslaught of sickness was pure;y coincidental, or if there was a greater universal intention behind it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. The universe, or God, or consciousness, or however you might phrase it, has a way of granting you something you need, whether you want it or not. Of course I didnt need to be sick. But I needed something to break me out of the anxcious and destructive throught patterns that I was beginning to fall into again. I needed to be reminded by something with some force, that rest is sometimes neccessary, and breaking routines on occasion is more than okay.


I was also reminded of how far I’ve come, being able to actually allow myself that rest. To be able to hole up on a couch alll day with christmas movies and crafts was something I secretly craved, and yet could neverallow myself to do.

The few times I tries to enjoy a movie midafternoon, I couldnt hear the TV over the blaring voices in my head screaming at me to get up, go for a run, you have to burn some calories to deserve this.





This year, coccooned in a blanket watching Netflix at noon on a wednesday, all was quiet. And it was bliss.







Merry Almost Christmas,

Don’t forget to rest and enjoy it,







—Jae xoxo







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10 More Things I Learned During Covid Isolation

This is a continuation from my last post, where I talk about my experience of having Covid just before Christmas.

I tried to narrow what I learned from 10 days on my own to 10 items, but I failed miserably. So here are 10 more things isolation taught me.

To read the first 10 learnings from my experience with Covid click here.





10 (more) things I learned in Covid Isolation

  1. It’s a good time to make a photobook whilst in quarantine. 

    Photobook creation websites like Photobook Canada (which I used) have some pretty amazing programs to create truly unique and professional books. 10 days honestly flew by just learning how to use the different features, and create a photo cookbook of all my Nana’s recipes that I was sure my mom would love. Honestly, hours went by without a thought dedicated to this very consuming project.




  2. It takes a f***ing long time to put together a photobook.  

    Spoiler: It took me so long to make the photobook that it did not arrive in time for Christmas. On the final day of my isolation, I actually kind of wished I had another day or two to finish working on it in peace.


  3. Sometimes exercise feels unproductive.

    Don’t get me wrong, I will always feel a high after finishing a workout, whether its a HIIT workout, a challenging pole class, or a long walk. But when you have a 100 page document (or photo cookbook) to edit and a fast approaching deadline, sweating for the sake of sweating or leaving your house to walk the same route for an hour only to arrive back where you started feels rather redundant. For that reason, as well as for the sake of my immune system that was currently being attacked by virus particles, I took a pretty big step back from exercise during my isolation. And I felt pretty accomplished by the end of it.




  4. I own too few pairs of pajamas.

    Pretty much all I wore the entire 10 days I was isolating. And the few days I was sick and without test results before that. I even started walking my dog in my PJ’s, just throwing on my boots and coat. How many days did I go wearing the same pajama bottoms? I will take the answer of that to my grave.  




  5. Bras are overrated.

    See above. The closest thing I came to a bra were the sports bras I would wear for pole. And sometimes they doubled as a shirt paired with my PJ bottoms for the rest of the day. I had surprisingly very little laundry to do after those 10 days quarantined at home.




  6. Even introverts succumb to loneliness at some point.

    While I am not a through and through introvert (hello Leo), I definitely have an introverted side along with my streak of independence. For most of quarantine, I was pretty content with my puzzles, a hallmark Christmas movie, and my pole. However, there were times where I really and truly felt like an outsider to the rest of the world. I would see instagram stories and posts of friends getting together for christmas parties, work events, or even just coffee dates and that’s when loneliness would hit. In those moments, I would even consider giving up my PJ pants for some human interaction.




  7. A bit of dancing everyday keeps sadness at bay.

    While I didn’t do much in terms of “working out,” most days I did end up finding my way to my pole, fuelled by my Spotify playlist of a few good songs in a row. I just moved and grooved and spun myself around, for as long or as little as I was feeing, and inevitably, I came out of those dance sessions with a little happiness boost. Well worth the slight feeling of out of breathness after (which did thankfully go away after my 5th or 6th day in isolation).




  8. Even dogs need space.

    For 10 days, it was just me and my 13 year old husky/shepherd Jaeda. I am a cuddler. Jaeda less so. Craving some form of interaction and affection, I often looked to Jaeda for a good cuddle session. She would always oblige for awhile, but after 10 or so minutes had past of me skootching into her bed with her, she would look sideways at me, give a little groan, and heave her old bones off of her cushy bed to lay on the floor in another room alone. It could be said that perhaps Jaeda fared isolation even better than I did.




  9. Thank God for Facetime.

    In the moments I didn’t even have the affection of my dog to quell my feelings of loneliness, Facetime was always there to give me to the kind of human connection only eye contact, facial expression, and a familiar voice can offer. To all the beloved friends who called to check in on me, or answered my calls where I had very little new and exciting to share, you know who you are, and you are appreciated.







  10. There are some hidden gem christmas movies on Netflix.

    I watched more Christmas movies this year than I have in the past three years combined, thanks to Covid. As someone who is not all that fond of rewatching movies, especially those of the Hallmark variety, I was pleasantly surprised to find several new ones that were more than decent. At the top of my list were Lovehard, Let it Snow, A Knight for Christmas, A California Christmas and Klaus.




So there we have it. 10 Learnings from 10 days in Isolation. In the end, not all that miserable, and in many ways, rewarding. But would I willingly do it again? Probably not. I prefer my puzzles with a side of conversation. And I am running out of pajamas.



Have you had to isolate for covid? How did you kill the time?



Happy New Year,



Jordan xoxo



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mind and body, mental health, musings, perspective Jordan Prosen mind and body, mental health, musings, perspective Jordan Prosen

A Very Covid Christmas (again)- and 10 Things I Learned in Isolation

This Christmas I officially joined the covid club.  I still have no idea where I got it, although between teaching in person and a busy social life, there are several possibilities. I am very lucky, in that my symptoms were mild. I had a scratchy throat, and a light cough for a few days, but in all honesty if it was not covid times, I would have felt guilty taking off any more than a day of work for it. 

It started with feeling tired , and as a new teacher I didn’t really consider that a symptom, as much as an unavoidable way of life.  But then my throat started feeling weird.  I thought I was just dehydrated.  It wasn’t so much sore as it was scratchy.  Honestly it was only as I was sipping a beer in the distillery, feeling as if lacerations were being lit up as I swallowed the carbonated liquid that I started to make the connection. However, after two bouts of pretty bad colds/flus already this fall, I wasn’t super concerned it was covid.  I really just didn’t want to be sick in any kind of way in these weeks leading up to christmas.  

I went home, went to bed , thinking a good sleep would help.  Instead I was up half the night feeling feverish, hot and cold at the same time, with a pounding headache, and achy as if I had arthritis in my hips.  At 4:30 that morning I sent an email with my principal with typo laden plans explaining my absence that day.  


I woke up feeling much better.  My fever was gone (did I even have one in the first place? I wondered).  My throat felt much better, and my headache was mostly gone too.  I did have some phlegm and a cough, but it was much milder than the cough I had the last time I was sick, and that was not covid. 




 I somehow miraculously did not infect any member of my family, despite seeing them over the weekend and on the very day I started having symptoms, and for that I am eternally grateful.  I did, however, land my lovely roommate with Covid for the second time.  And unlike me, who luckily gets to leave my isolation the eve before Christmas eve, she only started having symptoms a few days ago and must spend Christmas on her lonesome until the 27th.  She isn’t holding it against me, and I’ve been showering her with early Christmas gifts including a delivery of Craig’s Cookies and an UberEats gift card, but I still feel awful to have thrown a wrench into her family Christmas plans. 

The most distressing part of this whole debacle is that I have to suffer the inconvenience of 10 days of isolation during the week of excitement and anticipation leading up to the 25th.  I missed several Christmas events, including the annual Christmas reunion dinner with my high school friend group, and our family Christmas on the 19th with cousins who live in BC was cancelled completely.  My hopes of sipping (chugging) mulled wine with my cousins watching our parents get equally as toasted were dashed. 




But as I am continuously reminded, it is just the times.  




I feel like I’m going through the ultimate 2020 rite of passage having covid.  In a fucked up kind of way, receiving my positive result from a PCR test almost felt like a golden ticket to Wonka’s factory-- something I had heard about, and always knew was a possibility, but never quite believed I would ever be the recipient.  It felt as if I was just hearing the term “Omnicom”  and gossip about Covid becoming a big “thing” again, when all of a sudden I had it. 

People are continuously fascinated by Covid.  It has this air of intrigue composed of both awe and fear around it, the virus equivalent of “He Who Must Not Be Named” (AKA Voldemort, for the non-potter-heads). When I got my test result, I contacted all the people I had seen the weekend leading up to it.  The owner of my pole studio sent out a message to those I had been in class with me letting them know they had been in contact with “a positive case.”  “Don’t worry!  The owner assured me.  I didn’t say it was you! I Kept it anonymous.  It was very kind of her to do that, but also, why do we have this attached shame complex to a positive test? Its not as if anyone conspires to get covid and then spread it to as many people as they can.  Its a virus that as a world, we are all fighting together.  

Friends reached out with the same questions:  

How are you?  

What are your symptoms?

How did you get it?

My  not very exciting responses were okay, fine, and no idea.  They were relieved I was okay,  but at the dame time there is a sense of disappointment. Like that’s it?  This is what we’ve been hiding from for close to 2 years? 

I get it.  But still, I am grateful that this, for me, is all covid was.  




My isolation companion, Jaeda

10 Things I learned in Covid Isolation

  1.  Covid feels like a mild cold (and I thank being vaxxed for that.)

    I’ve been sick three times this fall/winter already, and each time my symptoms were much more severe than this.  Other than a short bout of feeling feverish in the middle of the night when I first started feeling off, covid felt no worse than a mild cold.  I had a scratchy throat for two days, and a very light cough and not a ton of energy for a few more after that.  However, by day 4 or 5,  I would’ve been back to my regularly scheduled life if what I had wasn’t covid.  


    I know some people might take this as proof that covid really isn’t  a big deal, and that there are unnecessary precautions and restrictions being made out of fear/ corruption/ ignorance etc…  But I am pretty confident that being double vaxxed probably had something to do with the very mild and manageable experience I had.  And, for what I am very grateful, keeping my parents and family, and students from not getting infected by me, considering I was in close contact with many people right up until the night I had my fever.  Yes, I got covid, BUT it could have been MUCH worse. 

2. It's very convenient to isolate in walking distance to family.

This fall, my grandfather moved into a care home, leaving his house right next to my family home empty, Even before I got my official positive test result, my parents invited me to do my isolation in this empty house so I would have room to sprawl out and also be nearby for them to help me out.  I know I am beyond lucky to have this convenient set up, but it was honestly a life saver.  And every home cooked meal that was lovingly delivered to my door did not go unappreciated. 

My Grandfather’s empty house where I spent the past 10 days in isolation


3. I will never again take for granted the opportunity to grocery shop in person. 

Grocery delivery services and Instacart are very convenient, and during my 10 days of isolation, they kept me well fed and well stocked. But as a grocery shopper, I am much more of an in-the moment impulse buyer of what looks good versus writing a list. I swear I spend longer navigating the instacart website, trying to rack my brain for what I want to eat for the next week versus walking the aisles and buying what looks yummy at a good price. I also felt denied the experience of food shopping in the days before christmas… Meandering the festive displays of chocolates and oranges and fresh figs as Christmas music blares through the aisles. People watching the festive folk grocery shopping in Santa hats and holiday sweaters , carts filled with things for entertaining like wheels of brie, giant panettone, and cartons of egg nog.  Maybe I am a bit of an odd duck, missing food shopping in this way but there's nothing like being locked indoors for an extended period that makes you miss these ordinary experiences of being human. 


4.  I am more introverted than I thought

At first, the prospect of having to isolate for 10 days sent me into a spiral of dread.  I hate being alone, I thought. I am an extrovert!  I need people.  Turns out I can be pretty content on my own with a puppy, a home pole studio, and a puzzle.   I was able to get lots of writing done, make several gifts for family, friends, and their dogs (hello, hand sewn bandanas) and watch anything I wanted without compromise.  Actually by dat 9, I was kind of wishing I had one more day of isolation to get a little bit more done before my time was up and I was thrown back into the mayhem of a family christmas.

5. I still remember the majority of every Taylor Swift song 

I love to sing,  but living in close quarters with a roommate, I never subjected her every often to my belting it out musical theatre style impromptu concerts.  In a big house on my lonesome, with Taylor Swift playing on my spotify, I didn't hold back.   Turns out I remember the obscure lyrics from obscure tracks on Red and 1984      just as well as I did back in 2010. 

6. Christmas cookies taste better when you can share them

Near the end of my isolation, when I figured I was mostly noncontagious, I started christmas baking, making dozens of beautiful cookies.  It felt nice to bake, but when you are sharing the finished result of a perfectly shaped sugar cookie or lightly whipped aquafaba meringue with none but yourself and your dog, the joy falls flat just a little.  I could've eaten oreos with my hot chocolate after that day of baking and been equally as satisfied, and created much less of a mess. 



7. The truest friends don’t forget about you when you are MIA (out of sight out of mind)

Despite my new discovery of an introverted side, it was really amazing to hear from friends throughout my isolation.  I totally get out of sight out of mind, and I hate to say I often fall into that pattern of interaction, especially with friends and family in different cities and provinces.  So when I was dropped off a covid care package from my extremely thoughtful long time friend, I felt loved and appreciated and cared for, and I think that itself made the entire isolation experience so much more endurable.  Even something as simple as the texts I received from various friends and family checking in on me, or saying hi in just a sentence or less were beautiful reminders of the connections I had in my life, and the friendships I do not take for granted.

covid care package from a dear friend <3

8. A walk does not need to be 5 kilometres

In isolation, technically you are not supposed to leave yourself.   In a very quiet street in the suburbs, I made an exception twice a day (morning and night) to venture out to walk my dog (masked) and keeping away from people.  My dog is 13. We do not go far and we do not go fast.  The furthest we ever go is barely 2 kilometres and it takes close to 45 minutes, with lots of breaks for sniffing things.  Usually however, it's closer to ½ a kilometre, to the park to walk through a woodlot and back .

Before getting covid, I had a pretty ingrained habit of getting at least 5 km in a day. Sometimes it was all at once. Sometimes it was a few kilometres to school, a few back, and then another few over lunch. Anything less felt well-- lazy.  After 10 days of slowing down to Jaeda’s senior citizen pace, I realize getting out for just a slow walk around the block can do just as much for my spirits and energy as a speedy 7 km loop around the city.  Also, I think having a dog as company on these walking ventures is also a big factor in the happiness level achieved. 

9. It's okay to walk zero kilometres a day.

Expanding on the last point a little more.  There were some days in my isolation where Jaeda was sore or the weather was rainy and miserable where it made no sense to break covid protocol and venture outside.  And while the first day this happened I felt pretty anxious , I did it and (obviously) nothing bad happened.  If anything, it felt freeing.  As much as it was a downer getting covid, especially at christmas time, in a way I am thankful that it forced me to face this very deceptive compulsion I have continued to hang onto.  As healthy of a  habit of walking every day is, the fact that I was doing it pretty compulsively was important for me to break. 

10.  After a long time of not being around other people, it starts to matter less what they might think.

In isolation I didn’t wear makeup for the whole 10 days.  I also did not wear anything but pajamas (and pole shorts) for most of that 10 days either.  At first, the exception was putting on a pair of leggings to go walk the dog.  But in the latter half of my isolation period, I found myself not caring enough to get up and change out of my pjs and would simply throw on a coat over my fuzzy plaid pj bottoms before leaving the house.  After doping it once, I did it every time.  I didn’t even feel silly.  I just felt like a girl walking her dog in her pajamas and I owned it. 








I came out of isolation on the eve of December 23rd, just in time to celebrate christmas with my family. In some ways, it was a very convenient circumstance of covid. But I am still happy its over.

Out of isolation, Christmas morning. Jaeda was happy too.

How was your covid christmas?

xoxo

Jordan

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mind and body, mental health, musings, perspective Jordan Prosen mind and body, mental health, musings, perspective Jordan Prosen

The 5 Minute Rule (A reflection on loss and perspective)

Grateful for this view in my back yard (almost).

Grateful for this view in my back yard (almost).

I’ve been stressing out over a lot of things lately. 

Some small, and some not so small. Many of which I do not feel ready to divulge yet here.  Lately, its been causing me so much anxiety that I feel sick and restless, exhausted and heavy-limbed and yet unable to sleep.

I have been thinking circular thoughts, dwelling on problems that make them seem much larger than they need be, and overthinking bits of conversations and moments that have taken place in the day when they have probably long been forgotten by the others I was with.  

I was in one of those moments, obsessing over something someone said in passing, anxious over the way my clothes have been fitting, and feeling overwhelmed by the thirty parent interviews I will be hosting for my kindergarten classroom this week, when I was abruptly met with a hard hit of reality.   

It was learning a new friend of mine, a beautiful vibrant, compassionate soul of a person, does not have parents on this earth.  My friend and I were discussing plans for Christmas.  She listened sympathetically to me rant on about the stress and overwhelm of going home for christmas, and how full and busy the house is, laughing as I made reference to my mom’s thwarted efforts of an early Christmas dinner year after year.  Then I asked about her plans. She confided that she might go to her sister’s might not do anything.  I asked if her parents lived far away, or if she would see them.  

And that’s when she told me both her parents had passed away.  She didn’t offer why or when and I didn’t want to pry.  I told her I was sorry to hear that, and followed her lead in changing the subject.  

This time it was my turn to laugh at the stories she recounted from her day at work, offer ahhs, and ohs in all the right places.  Meanwhile, every schema and internal perception of the world was being rewritten.  The interviews this week felt meaningless.  I felt ashamed and embarrassed for allowing negative body image to even be a thought in my mind.  And I began to think back to every comment or mention of my parents or family to her, trying to remember exactly what I said, and gauge just how insensitive it might have been.  

It’s a week later and I still cannot stop thinking about this.  





Yes, I am in the middle of interviews, and working thirteen hour days to talk to parents. 

No, I have not yet been able to book a covid test, and may not be able to go see my family over christmas.

And yes, we are in lockdown yet again, and that means I am no longer able to train at my pole studio which has been keeping me sane these past few months. 


The truth is that none of this matters.  All that does is that my family is still safe and healthy and together.  I have never needed to survive a loss so close to me, although for many years of my life it was my greatest fear. 

While I cannot even begin to understand how difficult it might be to experience losing my family, I know it is a devastation from which one never truly recovers. It is life changing. 



And that’s the thing.  All that which I am currently stressed and worried about is not in any way going to impact the trajectory of my life.  

It feels wrong, and selfish, now for me to be stressed out by these problems which in perspective are really NOT problems.  

I am trying to use this new knowledge to help me shift my perspective from worrying about these things that may or may not happen, many which are out of my control, to being grateful everyday for all I do have.  Most importantly my health and well-being, and the health, happiness, and love of my family.  

Grateful for pre-covid christmases.

Grateful for pre-covid christmases.

So if you’re finding yourself stressing over something today, getting caught up in feeling like you have too much to do, or worrying about something, take a second to zoom out.   And then apply the five minute rule:

Think of your life five years from now.   Is whatever you are stressing over in this moment going to make a big impact in your life in five years?  If the answer is no, then it is not worth spending more than five minutes worrying about now.  





And once you do that, think about my friend, and what she has lost, or the people in your life you know who have may also suffered true loss.  Perhaps you yourself have suffered a great loss (in which case, all the love and compassion in the world to you).  And then think about all you do have: the people that fill your life with love and happiness. 

The healthy, functioning body that allows you to move and breathe and hug your loved ones. 

The opportunities to try new things, go new places, and be whoever you want to be.  The freedom to make mistakes, to fall and get back up again

And the oft overlooked gift to feel all these things-- joy and sadness, pleasure and pain, thrill and fear, for how can you truly know the first without experiencing the latter?

A snapchat I am happy I saved several years ago.

A snapchat I am happy I saved several years ago.

The point of this post is NOT to say I will never feel stress or worry again.  Even as I write this, it has flashed through my brain that I’ve been sitting too long, and perhaps I should take a break from writing this to do some kind of exercise. 

There’s a good chance tomorrow or one day next week some curveball will come my way at work and begin to send me into a tailspin of “what-ifs” and “I can’ts” and “if onlys”.   However, this story will help ground me, as it is now, quite literally, keeping me in this chair to finish this post, and quell the voices in the back of my head vying for my attention.  





Five years from now, it won’t matter that I spent an entire night sitting at my desk instead of getting in some movement.  However, in five years, I will likely be glad that I took the time to put this revelation into a post, and create a tangible reminder for myself and you that are now reading this of the importance of perspective, and being grateful, truly grateful, for all we do have that enriches our life with happiness and meaning.  




Have you heard of this five minute rule before?  How do you practice perspective taking in your life?




Love,

Jordan





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