Would a normal person be anxious in this situation?
It's a question I keep coming back to, and it's the thread running through my latest Recovered & Rambling with Brittany. We started the episode saying we had nothing to talk about (we always say that), and somehow ended up covering sleep deprivation, a scary week in the hospital, how to measure progress in recovery, and why the holidays make everyone a little bit crazy.
Here's what stuck with me.
Postpartum is a roller coaster you can't control
I'm four and a half months into life with Colin, and I'm tired in a way I didn't know was possible. I'll have a few good nights, and then we're right back to him not sleeping. I know I can't force it. I know doing all the things isn't helpful. And I still want to scream into a pillow.
That's the part of recovery nobody warns you about: knowing better doesn't make hard things easy. It just means you get to be tired and a little more compassionate with yourself about it. (Also, thank goodness babies are cute)
You can stay calm and still have a panic moment
Brittany's daughter spent a week in the hospital with a fever that wouldn't quit. She stayed calm through the whole thing, the way so many of us do when someone we love is in trouble. Then, after hours in the ER and the news that they were admitting her daughter, she walked into the bathroom, felt herself getting warm, and cried. That's normal. She called her cousin, took a minute, and the nurse who saw her came back with a cold rag and a ginger ale. No one made it a big deal, because it wasn't one.
Would a normal person be anxious?
I used to tell myself the same thing during recovery: wait, would this make anyone anxious? Hospitals are loud, bright, and full of people having the worst day of their lives. Medical stuff, scary news about our kids, a stressful season: these are naturally anxiety-producing situations.
When you're already struggling with anxiety, it's easy to think you should be handling things better, or differently, or without any fear at all. But feeling anxious in an anxious situation doesn't mean you're failing at recovery. It means you're human. It would be weird if you weren't scared.
So many times I told myself: Shannon, it makes sense that you feel anxious right now. Letting yourself be human is a huge part of this journey.
You can't measure progress by how much anxiety you feel
This week in the Recovery Room, we talked about redefining progress. A lot of people ask, "Am I recovering? How do I know?" and they check by seeing how much anxiety they're feeling. That's the wrong yardstick.
The real signs of progress are things like:
Being more willing to do what you want to do
Handling situations differently than you would have months ago
Being kinder to yourself
Not making everything an exposure
Brittany is a perfect example. Would she have stayed that calm in the ER a year ago? Probably not. That's progress, even if she needed a bathroom cry afterward.
I'm lucky to watch it happen in real life in the Recovery Room. A member who struggled to leave her house when she joined is now planning a trip to do something she loves. Another has agreed to a family trip she never would have said yes to a few months ago. And a brand-new member told me after her first call that she'd put off getting support because she didn't want to admit she needed it, and that hearing other people take steps was already inspiring.
Why accountability helps (and why we're so hard on ourselves)
When you're doing this alone, it's easy to say "I suck, I suck, I suck." When you're checking in with people every week, someone points out, "You wouldn't have done that a few weeks ago," and you start to believe it. Hearing "I'm so proud of you" from people who get it makes it a little easier to be proud of yourself.
Why do we think we have to heal overnight when nobody else does?
Holidays are naturally stressful (so lower the bar)
We're heading into the holiday season, and it's the next big topic in the Recovery Room. Family opinions, gifts, hosting, travel, kids, and everyone and their mom having thoughts about how you're doing things. It's a lot, even without anxiety.
My own plan: we're going to Massachusetts for Thanksgiving, with a baby who hates the car and isn't sleeping. Will it be hard? Probably. But I'll be tired and a mess whether I'm at home or in a different house, so I might as well go.
The takeaway is to lower your expectations, let things look messy and hard, and ride the roller coaster. It's allowed to be hard. It doesn't have to be as hard as we make it.
Survival mode is allowed
On a lighter note, I'm having a Starbucks twice a day, I can't nap (neither can Brittany), and we both have strong opinions about Love Is Blind and Real Housewives. Do what you need to get through this season. It's all part of the recovery plan.
If you want the full ramble, listen to the episode wherever you get your podcasts.
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