Finding My Land Legs

I often witnessed my mother, vexed and overwhelmed by life’s challenges, throw up her hands in an I give up gesture. “I’m at my wits’ end,” she’d exclaim, her face becoming pinched with tension-filled expression. Imagine my shock when I looked in the mirror one day and saw that same pinched, tension-filled expression on my face. I was apparently at my ‘wits’ end,’ ready to give up. How had I gotten here?

I remember being hopeful on New Year’s Day 2020, standing on the deck of a new year unaware I’d soon be on a storm-tossed sea. COVID arrived, its powerful winds tossing my ship back and forth. I was unable to find my sea legs, staggering across the deck like a drunken sailor. Increased violence, social unrest, and divisiveness arrived, quickly tattering my ship’s sails, ripping apart and fraying the American culture that had been my anchor. Personal freedoms and normal activities stopped, replaced with mask mandates, lockdowns, isolation, and social distancing. Wave after wave crashed upon the deck. The world seemed distant, surreal, and chaotic. I was lost at sea—alone, frightened, and overwhelmed, struggling just to hold on let alone navigate the turbulent sea.

A contentious election brought further turmoil upon the sea, rendering me helpless and more vulnerable. Storm after storm arrived, exposing overreaching, incompetent government officials; media propaganda; misinformation; censorship; and government corruption. Then in 2021 a new White House Administration brought rapid change to the American landscape, further increasing uncertainty and doubt.

I continued staggering on the deck, desperately clinging to the mast hoping that the COVID vaccine would reduce the fear, ease the lockdowns and mandates, end the isolation, and return precious personal freedoms. Such was not the case. Instead, I arrived on the shore of a new, unfamiliar reality: a less prosperous, less open, and less free world—a world that was out of my control or influence. Normalcy as I understood it had been completely upended, and I feared it would never return. There was no escaping this reality, no help, and apparently no deliverance.

I was at my ‘wits’ end, feeling helpless, anxious, angry and mildly depressed. I was experiencing what some called the echo pandemic, and there was no vaccine nor quick cure for it. What was I to do? Fortunately, I remembered a story my father told me when I was an angry teenager lashing out at others, consumed by some adolescent injustice over which I had no control:

“A long time ago a wise, old Indian warrior sat around a campfire with his grandchildren. ‘A battle rages inside me,’ he told them. ‘It’s a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf represents deceit, anger, hate, ingratitude, and hopelessness. The other stands for truth, joy, love, gratefulness, and hope.’.”

“The old man looked at the children with a firm stare.” ‘This same fight goes on inside you and every other person.’.”

“The grandchildren sat in silence and thought about the story for quite some time. Finally, one child asked his grandfather, ‘Which wolf wins?’.”

“The old warrior replied, ‘The one you feed.’.”

I’d been feeding the wrong wolf! What a powerful realization! No wonder I was angry, anxious, and helpless! Flickering through this realization, like froth on the ocean waves, was that intuitive response hard-wired into us humans: resilience—that innate capacity of self-leadership and ability to navigate challenges. I’d sacrificed my resilience along with the power of the self-energy that comes with self-leadership. I had to reclaim my resiliency. But how?

I had to make a decision: Either assert myself and leave the tumultuous sea; dock my ship; and come ashore where my resiliency lay waiting for me or remain lost at sea, passively clinging to what was and permitting uncertainty, ingratitude, fear, and rage to drown me. I came ashore grieving for the old normal while trying to accept that uncertainty is a given—a fact of life. Instead of concentrating on things over which I had no control, I focused on what I could control like my thinking and eating habits. I quit using food to cope and comfort myself and chose better eating habits—eliminating high-calorie foods and unnecessary snacking and reducing portion sizes. I walked outside in the sunshine every day observing nature and taking delight in it.

I invested in myself, unfollowing and disconnecting from toxic people with whom I didn’t share similar cultural or political views. I disassociated from situations or circumstances that weren’t good for my emotional and mental stability. I also limited the amount of news I read and evaluated the television shows I watched, discarding those prone to violence, aggression, deception, antisocial behavior, and negativity. I rediscovered living in the present, listening to piano music, and reading for pleasure.

Although no longer at sea, I was still out of balance, struggling to find my land legs experiencing what the French sometimes refer to as mal de debarquement—disembarkation sickness. Experts say that there’s no proven way to find one’s land legs, other than to just give it some time. But I didn’t want to wait for things to get better. I wanted to be happy right now!

My impatience led me to my long-forgotten passion: writing and storytelling. Stories had always been my language. As a child, creating them was my way of expressing the wonder and possibility around me. As a teenager, writing in my diary was my way of processing the world and coping with the radical changes adolescence brought me. As a young adult, I believed life was more than what it was on the surface—some bigger truth yearning to be understood, something beyond me begging for expression—a story waiting to be told.

I fervently returned to writing hoping to make some sense of the new land where I found myself. I wrote without thinking further than the next line. Initially, my words were nothing more than a penned medication, dispersing my pain and healing my broken spirit. I continued writing, reframing my interpretations of adversities asking myself What good can come of this adversity? Seeking goodness and gratitude took me away from away my negative, claustrophobic thinking about the current crises and reminded me of the big picture—the blessings and comforts of the current moments.

Slowly, I accepted my new reality even if on the surface it seemed less good than the one I had before. I discovered that putting together something new was equally good and perhaps even better. I learned that life is complicated and unpredictable, accepting that not all storms come to disrupt my life. In fact, some come to clear a new path or carry me to a better shore.

Yes, I found my land legs and am much happier having realized that the greater part of my happiness is my choice. It’s a byproduct of my attitude, my perceptions, and my thinking and isn’t dependent upon my situation or circumstances.

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