training.

two years ago, when i got diagnosed with cancer, my world got turned upside down. i lived with constant uncertainty, fear of death, lack of control, and deep grief for all the loss in my life.

now, the whole world has been turned upside down. we are all living with constant uncertainty, fear, lack of control and collective grief. this time, i didn’t get diagnosed alone. in some weird way, at least it feels more fair this way. at least this time, the world is right alongside me.

we are living through unprecedented times. there is a global pandemic. the entire world has literally come to a standstill. it is surreal to remember that only two months ago, after i had been in beijing for work, i developed a cold. it didn’t seem like a big deal, and the doctors completely underplayed it. to be on the safe side, i did a few days of self-quarantine before returning to work. i was fine, and life continued on.

since then, the world as we know it has inextricably changed, and it will never be the same again.

here in bangkok, we have been running a full virtual school for five weeks. everything that was planned to be on campus has been put on hold. all incoming flights to thailand have been cancelled and there are almost no commercial flights departing. there are two cases of COVID-19 in my condo building, so i haven’t left my apartment in 14 days. we are under a curfew, they have banned the sale of alcohol, and masks are required in public.

you might think i would be on the edge. teetering to fall off the cliff, and disappear into the abyss of a panic attack. but, i’m not. i feel focused. i feel grounded and calm. i feel hopeful for the future, and grateful for all that i have.

this has been puzzling: that amidst the utter chaos in the world, that i have such stillness in my own heart.

even though social isolation is an extrovert’s nightmare. even though i am working longer-than-ever-hours supporting a complete reimagining of education. even though i haven’t walked farther than the 10 meters from my bedroom to the kitchen in days. even though i’m lonely and yearning for a busy house to be annoyed by, rather than an empty one. even though i’ve got scans later this month and i’m quietly afraid my cancer will return.

my air conditioner is noisy, but it isn’t a constant companion. i fill up my time and my space and make it the best it can be under the circumstances because that is who i am, and that is what i’ve been training for.

everyone is talking about how hard this is for them. and yes, this is impossibly hard. it is impossibly hard for the health care workers. for parents who are trying to work and home school their children. for people who are sick and dying. and not that i’m into comparative suffering, but so is getting diagnosed with cancer. it is all hard. as it turns out, if we are waking up each day, it usually is. but that’s the thing about being human. and about global pandemics. it is so fucking hard.

when a friend helped me realize that i’d been training for this, it got me thinking: what exactly are these coping strategies that i have amassed over the years to deal with the terrible parts of life?

here they are, some of my daily quarantine “workouts”:

routine: my counselor tells me i lean towards overfunctioning. yah, no shit. what list can i make? what closet can i organize? what productivity can i build into my day? my response to a crisis has rarely been to stay in bed or sink into the couch. i am getting up every day, showering, getting dressed, and having a cup of a coffee. i have a disciplined routine on workdays, not because that is my personal preference, but because it works for me. i don’t have time to feel anxious, because i just do the next thing. and it is not like my routine is filled with busy-work. sometimes, my next thing is to sit quietly and meditate or to do a yoga class. whether the emptiness is vast (like when i got cancer) or small (like being on lockdown in your apartment), i am a better version of myself when i have a routine.

rules: i have always been a rule person. not really rules made by society or others, but definitely ones i make for myself. one night, about 6 or 7 years ago, i swore i would never eat potato chips again… and i haven’t. i have this bizarre ability to make rules for myself that stick. sometimes this is not actually healthy for me. for example, when i started to believe that a sip of alcohol would bring my cancer back (spoiler alert: it didn’t). i try to ensure my rules are not super rigid, because i also have this spontaneous side to counterbalance. but, quarantine rules have helped me. for example, one of my quarantine rules is that i have to have a shower daily. another is that i have to be outside every day (even if it just sitting on my balcony). i also need to reach out and talk to a friend or family member every single day. my weekend rule is that i need to watch tv or read in bed at least once! fun rules are definitely encouraged.

lists: i love lists. they are my happy place. when i got diagnosed, i was gifted a beautiful notebook that became my other half. every list i could think of went in there. and, it made me feel so safe and happy. lists of people that love me. lists of blog posts to write. lists of recipes to try. lists of what to do if i feel like i’m losing it. this time, i started a quarantine-notebook, also a very special gift i had been holding onto. my first list was what to do every day, and my second list was what to do some days. one of my favorite lists is a list of projects that i’d love to do during quarantine… for example, mastering the poached egg, cleaning out my closet, and making a playlist that will remind me of this time. these lists are a crutch for me when i feel restless or lost. it is kind of my past self talking to my future self: the lists remind me of what i love, what i value, what makes me happy, what works for me when i’m struggling and what makes me who i am.

connection: when i got sick, my friends saved my life. their presence and gestures got me through, and has brought us closer than ever. now we are alone all over the world, but we are finding ways to be alone together. i talk to someone from my circle of family or friends every single day. from what’s app messages to doing yoga together to virtual book clubs to zoom calls to online games. seriously. we are a connected and creative gang. when i had cancer, there were days when reaching out for connection was hard, because i lacked the internal resources. this time, i know who is on my team, and i try to reach out to them. when i forget to reach out, they remember for me. yesterday, i briefly felt like i was going insane. just for a few minutes (i’m sure you’ve had this too if you’ve been trapped in your house). i turned to my phone and sent a few texts, and a few minutes later i had a friend on the phone and we were having a laugh.

mentor texts: in school, when kids are learning to write, they study mentor texts. we read closely, looking at craft skills to emulate in our writing. when i got sick, i temporarily became incapable of focusing on fiction texts. all i could read were memoirs of people who had cancer, or who had overcome unbelievable odds. and the same is true now. all i want to read or listen to is the stories of people who have been isolated, who are lonely, and who have overcome. i read these books and look for patterns, trying to figure out what i can generalize to my own life. i’m currently reading a gentleman in moscow, a fictional story about a man who is sentenced to live the rest of his days in house arrest in a hotel. a whole life? i can deal with a few weeks/months.

new things: i love new things, probably more than lists. exploring a new country, trying a new restaurant, doing something i’ve never done before. in crisis, it is hard to do new big things. flying is out of the question, and all restaurants are closed. but i can still do new small things. when i was sick, and staying in ottawa, i made a list of every coffee shop in the city and each week i went to a new one to do work/writing. i also tried to find a new path every time i went for a walk. this time, in my apartment, you would think it would be hard to find new things to do; but it has become a fun challenge. i am cooking new recipes from my cookbooks, trying new options for home workouts, watching new tv shows, finding educational webinars on topics that are new to me. at the top of the list is learning about technology: how to lead professional learning over zoom, how to stream HBO shows, and how to play board games online. there is a ridiculous amount to learn, which keeps my groundhog days fresh.

hope: i’m driven by the belief that the future will be better, and i have the power to make it so. perhaps some people call it faith (i don’t), or positivity; for me, it is about having agency, and knowing that whatever happens, even if isn’t actually better (things could, in fact, get worse), that i will be able to handle it.

cancer patients are used to uncertainty, fear, and lack of control. it is our way. none of us would ever choose it. i’m sorry that you are all now experiencing that discomfort too. if this is feeling overwhelming, go easy on yourself and let yourself feel it. if this feels okay for you, you might be an introvert; or you may have had your own terrible times that have given you training ground. what i have come to understand is that as humans, we have a greater capacity than we realize to adjust to, and cope with terrible times. we are more resilient than we even know.

immense gratitude to everyone across the world who is working hard, and putting themselves at risk, to keep us safe. i’m clapping from the balcony of my little two bedroom condo in bangkok.

*this photo was taken a few summers ago in toronto. i was in a happy place, for sure. i was having a beer with my friend on the danforth and making a list of what i wanted to buy before i returned to thailand. lists, good friends and a craft beer… does life get better? maybe it does but i haven’t experienced it yet. what a beautiful day that will be, when the world opens up again.