Summary

The author shares personal strategies for maintaining mental and physical health during the pandemic, including self-imposed media silence on polarizing topics, indulgence in comfort foods in moderation, regular exercise, and finding humor in difficult situations.

Abstract

The article provides a candid glimpse into the author's coping mechanisms during the COVID-19 pandemic. The author has set up a system to avoid unnecessary stress from hyperbolic media coverage, which includes the literal act of chewing on a sock when the urge to comment on controversial topics arises. The piece also touches on the author's struggle with weight management amidst lockdown, detailing a brief period of indulgence in chocolate almonds followed by a return to healthier habits. Exercise routines have been adapted to the constraints of lockdown, with the author engaging in frequent, short bursts of activity to stay energized and maintain physical strength. The author emphasizes the importance of sleep, napping, and eating intuitively, while also highlighting the therapeutic power of laughter and the company of positive people as essential tools for survival and thriving during challenging times.

Opinions

The author expresses frustration with the abundance of unhelpful, hyperbolic commentary on the pandemic found on Medium and other media platforms.
There is a clear disdain for individuals referred to as "Covidiots" who endanger others by not following health guidelines, as well as for acts of racism and ageism.
The author has a pragmatic approach to comfort eating, allowing a brief period of indulgence before returning to healthier habits to avoid weight gain.
Exercise is deemed crucial for mental and physical well-being, with the author finding creative ways to stay active within the confines of their home.
The author values the power of humor and community, maintaining a "laugh circle" to cope with the stresses of the pandemic.
There is a deliberate choice to avoid negative influences, such as bigots and purveyors of bad news, and instead engage with positive, forward-thinking individuals.
The author believes that humor, likened to the sword Andúril from "The Lord of the Rings," is a potent weapon against darkness and a source of strength and creativity.

The Sock is Out for Now. Briefly.

An invitation to write about the pandemic, or at least what we’re doing about it in our own spaces.

The above is a shot of my dining room table, now my desk. The socks are what I promised to jam into my big fat mouth every time I felt the compulsion to have an opinion about the Conditions (covid-19), and for which I neither possessed the chops nor could add any real value. Much like a great deal of unnecessarily hyperbolic nonsense and hyperventilating that I have seen and still see on Medium. Good news, it’s worked. Sort of.

I’ve chewed Smartwool rather than weigh in on any number of topics which have offended (spousal abuse on the rise) infuriated (governments in denial, our Administration) or caused me to want to commit murder (Covidiots endangering others) or vomit (racism, ageism, etc).

Most of the time that’s worked.

That, by the way, is one of my primary survival/thrival strategies.

Why? Because inhaling stories that raise my normally very low blood pressure then railing about what I cannot change, not only hurts my health but could also hurt others.

So. I really have done this, as promised. I have rarely written about things that raise my ire. I did write about Covidiots as part of a piece on marketing that I (almost) co-wrote with Paul Myers MBA, but that was in a much larger context, and it fit. And I didn’t turn purple writing about it. Well, blue, because I just had to order and use Alex Jones’ silver colloidal toothpaste. I think the new Mystique look is quite fetching. Wish I had her boobs.

The second critically important strategy was that the first weeks I was in lockdown, I gave my self full permission to snack on a very evil treat: chocolate almonds. Look, at my age, and after my weight battles, if I eat more than about 950–1100 calories a day, especially without my kind of badass workout, I will put the pounds on.

I did. A few. More than I’ve had on me since 1987. Not horrible, but clearly not what I want, nor is it healthy. Time to be kinder to the body, not just the tongue. I nearly had a heart attack when I used a tape measure the other day until I realized I was looking on the centimeter side.

There’s a reason America is still on the Imperial system. I don’t think I know too many women who could deal with the numerical conversion to metrics for her hips. ( 96? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?)

AND I didn’t sweat it. I enjoyed a short period of comfort food. Then I wrapped all the rest of the 27 lbs of chocolate almonds, the twelve cartons of Bueno Bars and all the rest (there was a lot) and jammed them into a garage cabinet. Okay, okay, six cabinets. I park outside now.

For my part, that solves the problem. I either forget, or, if I think about it, the amount of time that it would take for me to go to the garage and rip out a 3000-calorie handful is just enough time for me to redirect that energy towards a piece of pineapple. Or a big spoonful of yogurt. Well, most of the time.

Charles Roast, if you’d like me to airlift my Bueno Bars, just let me know. Oh, and the almonds. Oh, and the……

Third, I made sure that I had supplies of what I really do love around in case I have to snack. Stuff that doesn’t set up pup tents on my aging hips, especially since my gym, my pool and my hiking stairs are all off limits for now. I have traded some of those treats for a partial can of corn. Mind you, apparently others like corn, too. I have learned DO NOT SHOP WITHOUT YOUR GLASSES. To wit: the other day I grabbed eight cans of corn, thinking I had scored big. Well, no. When I got home and put on my glasses, as I loaded them into my cabinet, I realized I had eight cans of fucking creamed corn.

I HATE CREAMED CORN. It looks precisely like what’s on the floor after I see Trump’s face on my computer.

Fourth: I CRAVE exercise. As Colorado is now in full spring snow season, that can mean having to do everything inside. I’ve described this before. Got this idea off the Outside Online website. I have a kitchen timer on my dining room table. Every twenty minutes it goes off, and that means hit the floor, hit the pullup bar, do some stair laps, kickboxing, weights, whatever.

THIS WORKS. Not for everyone. For me it does, for it keeps me energized and happy, my brain positive, my body flexed and moving. And strong. And, because I don’t always renegotiate those trips to the garage, I’d damned well better keep moving. Chuck Roast, kindly put in your order soon.

Fifth: This is very Zen, but bear with me.

I sleep when tired.

I nap when tired.

I eat when hungry.

I eat when not hungry.

I eat when tired.

I eat when bored.

I eat for any goddamned excuse whatsoever.

Wait, that’s not very Zen. True, though.

Sixth: There’s more but this is the most important: I look for the absurd. I find the funny. There’s funny in just about everything, especially the stupid shit people do (did I say Trump? the asshole sunbathing recommendations? see my other articles, you cannot make this shit up) the insanity that is our humanity.

I laugh. I have a laugh circle. We chat regularly, fall off our chairs, bust our guts, weep, and laugh more.

That’s not just survival, that’s thrival. There are things I don’t find funny in the least. Not at all. But I can’t change them, fix them, correct them. I CHOOSE to shut off the spigot of bigots, I CHOOSE not to inhale awful news, I CHOOSE to report, block and shut down vicious people who cascade their sewage onto others, I CHOOSE to support, laugh with, engage, tag and interact with positive, forward thinking, authentic people who are brave enough to laugh at what scares the shit out of all of us.

Humor is my Andúril, Flame of the West.

Humor is my last, best and most powerful weapon, the light that I turn to when all other lights fail.

You can really tell when I just watched LOTR again, can’t you?

I have learned, having almost died way too many times, that what I can find ways to make light of, cannot darken me. Doesn’t mean I don’t take things seriously. Just the opposite. The more dangerous and more serious, the more I need to laugh at it- because in that laughter I relax, find my creativity, my strength, and whatever I need to go forward.

Straight to the garage to get those goddamned almonds.

Wait. that’s not a sword. That’s my garage light.