How to Stay Sane

My best advice on navigating our current circumstances

I took my mom to Paris for her 70th and my 50th birthdays. Almost exactly 8 years later, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Hey, subscribers, thanks for existing. It’s been a long time. Three days after my last Octoberish post, I got a frantic phone call from my sister. Very long story short, my mother was admitted to the hospital that weekend, diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer, and given two to three months to live. She beat that grim forecast by a couple of days, but passed away peacefully near midnight on January 19^th.

I was able to spend some good time with her during those last weeks, and during her illness and since, my sister and I have been embroiled in the intricate details of settling her estate. It’s a lot.

And then since January 20^th, things in the U.S. have been…”compliqué,” as the French often say. Your mileage may vary, but I think a lot of us are in shock. How best to resist and stand up for what’s right while protecting the most vulnerable among us? Where should the focus be? What can be done? These are the questions that literally keep me up at night.

And I don’t have any answers at present, other than the quiet but insistent impulse to focus on two things: “Local” and “Daily.” I find that when I do, I get a sense of calm and space that gives me perspective on all the overwhelm.

First a few words on “Local.” No matter what happens, I believe our local communities will save us—IF we put our hearts and work into nourishing them. Find some way to connect close to home. Seek out a school or a community group that needs help. Volunteer at a charity shop, or start tutoring a neighbor’s teenager or visiting a retirement home. In-person interaction, even for me as a confirmed introvert, is THE antidote to the ennui and rage and despair I encounter online.

I can’t serve anything to others from an empty pot, though, which is why focusing on “Daily” for me is also crucial. I’ve written before about the consistent habits that keep me grounded and going. These have evolved over the years, but here’s my current list.

Gym: When we moved to France last summer, I joined our local gym to keep my husband Patrick company. Ironically I’d been resisting doing resistance work for a long time. Frankly, I find lifting weights boring and hard. But I’m 58 years old, and I know the weight work will help keep my bones strong and my joints healthy. And going to the gym keeps me accountable in doing the work.

(Between you and me, I have little private nicknames for the many regulars we encounter, like “Skinny Adam Driver” or “Happy Gramps” or “LuluLemonade.” This makes me giggle and keeps me engaged.)

I still do yoga, which I’ll never give up because I love it. But now, after six months of consistent work at the gym, I feel stronger and more capable, and I know weight lifting will continue to figure into my self-care.

Spiritual Discipline: For me, it’s prayer and scripture study, which may not be your thing. However, in my opinion, no matter your religious background or lack thereof, everyone needs some kind of spiritual focus. Maybe you meditate or read poetry or do holotropic breathing or other transcendent journey work—it’s all worthwhile and helpful. Whatever the path, I find staying in sync with a sense of something ineffable brings glimpses of true serenity.

Morning Pages: Confession: I’m still trying to get past the first couple of chapters of The Artist’s Way. I’ve started and stopped doing Julia Cameron’s famous Morning Pages and Artist’s Dates several times over the years. Maybe this will be the time I move forward and actually finish the book. I will say, though, that even Cameron’s basic practices do work. When it comes to Morning Pages, whether I type 750 words or scribble three pages in a notebook by hand, a daily brain dump is grounding and helps me get past mental noise toward the creative work I want to be doing.

Writing: I’m happier when I’m writing consistently, even if I can only manage ten minutes per day (and I usually try for a lot more). I’ve been wrestling on and off with my current fiction project for about five years. Honestly, if I hadn’t received a grant to write it, I might have abandoned it by now—but as it is, I’ll keep fighting with it until it’s done. Sometimes in the thick of it, I have to remind myself that I have actually finished writing books before. “The only way out is through,” as Cathy tells herself at the exact midpoint of my novel Dispirited. The hard but happy process of creating something from nothing satisfies my soul like little else.

Piano: Listening to music is wonderful and restorative, but even ten minutes per day of making music heals me on a whole different level. It reminds me that I have power and choices. Maybe you played the clarinet in high school; maybe you’ve always wanted to sing in a band. Find a way to make music, both by yourself and with others.

Think of those evenings in classic novels (or movies) when people take turns performing for each other. I want to bring those back, along with community folk dances! One of the unintended consequences of the great technological blessing of professionally performed and recorded music (and dance) is a suffocating and soul-killing tendency toward perfectionism and impossible standards. Community music helps fight that tendency. As we listen to and perform for one another, we appreciate others’ gifts and intentions and sheer vulnerability. It’s an exercise in trust and love.

Walking: Get out and move your body in nature, even if nature for you is a tree-lined street in suburbia. For me, it helps to have a dog and/or a walking buddy. So many days, if I feel panicked and powerless, even twenty minutes out in the fresh air can turn things around for me. The rhythm of walking is like a moving meditation. I settle into it, calming my brain even as my heart is working a little harder. I notice the tiny daily changes in the world around me; the leaves, the flowers, the birds, the clouds. It’s another way of appreciating that there’s a vast world outside my habitual interiority.

Reading: I aim to read for a couple of hours a day, but that’s because writers have to read. It’s part of the job description. You may not have that much time. Again, ten minutes a day can do the restorative work your brain will welcome.

I’m of two minds when it comes to what to choose. On the one hand, it should be enjoyable. Graphic novels, audiobooks, no matter the genre or age category—it all counts, and don’t let any shamey gatekeepers tell you otherwise.

On the other hand, it’s good to stretch your capacity and your horizons. Try a new genre; as with an unfamiliar vegetable, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish it. But as with an unfamiliar vegetable, sometimes it takes a few experiences to develop a taste for it.

Here’s something I recently learned. As people age, they generally gravitate away from fiction and toward non-fiction, BUT. Studies have shown that fiction is better than non-fiction at preventing dementia! Apparently, the act of holding the story and characters in your memory over time helps your brain stay supple. I’m all for it.

Book groups can help you when it comes to reading things you wouldn’t normally choose. Again, community! I’ve been in three different long-term book groups over the course of my adult life, and they’ve all been incredibly good for me both socially and intellectually. I cherish those memories and the friendships I made.

Language Study: Learning another language is another proven way to challenge yourself in healthy ways. Duolingo better than nothing, I guess, though I don’t know how useful it actually is, since I have little experience with it. I think it’s better to learn a language in—wait for it—community. It’s humbling way to cultivate the energizing curiosity of what’s called “beginner’s mind.” It helps your brain experience the world with the wonder of a child.

Yes, we live in France now, so I’m extra motivated to improve my fluency. Maybe you’ve always wanted to visit Japan; maybe you have a Filipino neighbor; maybe you took some Spanish in high school. Go where your interest or circumstances take you. Consider picking up even a few words; watch a non-dubbed foreign language series with the subtitles on. It’s a big world. Language connects us.

There you have it: eight simple-but-not-easy things. I recognize my immense privilege in having the time and energy and health and financial resources to work on them. I don’t do all eight every single day, but it’s a pretty good day when I do and even better when I can get a good streak going. At some point, I’d like to take on other things that are I have on hold right now: more knitting and more gardening, or more dabbling with visual art, for example. But for now, here I am.

The world’s a mess. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know how much longer it can even keep going. But however many hours we have left—and my mother’s situation has reminded me that we never know when our time is going to be up—let’s fill them with daily actions that bring growth and connection. Are you with me?