Turbulent Mind

April 1, 2020

Mental Health Challenge – Day 1

I have never really done any of these before… and I suppose now is a better time than any to really focus in on developing better habits to lift my base-line a little. As many readers/friends/family know I have been struggling with keeping that base-line up. I struggle on the daily to keep up with an increased dosage of my daily medications. 12 pills a day, 4 times a day. It’s a lot to swallow heh heh.

But here it is, the challenge!

Day 1 – Write As Many Positive Things About Yourself As You Can.

So I went ahead and did that. I probably sat there for 30 minutes after writing… “I’m a caring teacher” thinking, “Damn, there’s really not much going for me.”

It’s hard to stay in a positive mind set when most of the “good things” about me also have examples that I can think of…. that aren’t so great.

I’m a caring teacher
Good dog mom*
Loyal friend *
Hard worker *
Animal lover*
Passionate
Creative*
Strong*
Funny*
Persistent/Stubborn

Did I put an * next to ones that I think are super true? Of course not. Before writing these down, I was able to identify cognitive distortions that were stopping me from writing these down! Yay therapy! Thanks for the skills.

In order to make this an actual challenge, I decided, for some of these activities to actually challenge some of the distortions that pop up as I am going through them, and to reflect on the experience.

I’m a caring teacher – this was the first and the most secure statement I was able to make. I felt so sure and so happy with this part of my identity. I love seeing my kids, and I know this Zoom Teaching/Social Distancing stuff is really taking its toll on me being able to fulfill that part of my identity. But I want to pat myself on the back for being able to commend myself on one solid thing. I, honestly, didn’t think I’d have a single one.]
I’m a good dog mom – Oh, gee. I deliberated on this one due to one of my favorite distortions… “mental filtering.” This tendency to filter out all of the positives and leaving the negatives is my “favorite” because it seems that it must be one of the most hard-wired distortions I have. When this happens, my mind hones in on all of the negative things that I have done to disprove my point. Like, this morning, I was in such rough shape, I couldn’t walk my own dogs. My kind friend helped me out. I needed someone else to do this, how can I be a good dog mom? I’m actually a trash dog mom. This leads us to my other “favorite,” “Black or White Thinking.” I either have to be flawless and execute everything on my own. Or I’m a failure. This unreasonable distortion sets one up for failure. Now, I know these aren’t the ONLY distortions I encountered on this one, but to move on…
I’m a loyal friend -Again, remember ALL THOSE (probably 4-5 times) you cut a friend out while they were having some kind of crisis and needed you. You’re actually… a shit ass friend. “Black or White Thinking” sets my expectations from reasonable to unable to make a single mistake ever. I have to remember that in those cases, those friends severely violated my trust and my kindness, and even though I couldn’t keep them as my friend through it all, I had to respect my own limits.
Hard Worker – “mental filtering” is currently filtering out the times that I’ve been a hard worker at the office, putting in extra hours with no complaints to the times that I am now working from home (due to sickness and fatigue). These times have become the ONLY examples of my work ethics. I should remember the times where I powered through my exhaustion to keep working and doing a good job. Cognitive distortion: tackled.
Animal Lover – NO DISTORTION. I love animals. Maybe to a fault. NO NO. It’s good. I love animal rescue work, volunteering my time, and I hope to be able to go back to doing meaningful work with rescue dogs and cats in Korea after this COVID19 madness settles down.
Passionate – This is a true statement. I know what I’m passionate about, but sometimes can’t always keep myself engaged in my passions, but I know that when my head is on right, and I’m in a good space, my passions return, and I, somehow, manage to get myself back into the flow. For periods of time, at least.
Creative – I haven’t felt creative in a long time. It took me a long time of debating with myself about whether or not this is a true statement. But I am creative in my own way, and still practice it every day. It’s easy to use “emotional reasoning” to persuade yourself that, just because your moods/emotions/mental state aren’t great, means that everything great about you is invalid too.
Strong – Black or White thinking to the max on this one. I feel weak, I feel dependent, and I feel it hard. Every time I reach out for help, I feel like a failure for not executing my mental health “perfectly.” But there’s no such thing as “perfectly” managing mental help, and no one was meant to do this alone.
Funny – I know that I do make people laugh, but a lot of my humor is based on what I truly feel. Self-deprecating, negativity. Here’s where “Shoulds” come into play. I constantly tell myself that I “should” be funnier without the negativity. I should be able to make people laugh not at the expense of myself.
Persistent/Stubborn – I have a hard time letting go of things/goals that I really want. I’m stubborn. Sometimes to a fault. I realize that persistence can be good, but when it goes into stubbornness, it can be detrimental to me and all of my relationships. A good self-reflection on this aspect of me showed me something that I viewed as a negative aspect of me can also have its positive sides.

I’m going to try my best not to abandon this project for the month of April. Focusing on something I feel strongly about and enjoying the process of developing better mental health practices may be just what I need to build a better me.

Happy April everyone, and I’ll try to update with cherry blossoms before they all fall.

March 28, 2020March 28, 2020

Coronavirus – Part 3

At the end of February, Korea was hit hard with COVID-19. Schools, restaurants, academies, cafes all shut down. We were effectively under the “Stay at Home” advisory until early March. After about 2 weeks, our academy had to get innovative to keep students and to keep paychecks going out to teachers. We started teaching on Zoom.

I’ve heard mixed things about the experiences on Zoom, and while I don’t mind doing it, I absolutely hate that it’s become the new normal. 2 weeks has turned into 4 weeks of online teaching. And, I’m a bit afraid that Zoom teaching will replace all of us, and they’ll just send us all home. For Korean parents, nothing quite replaces in person teaching, but they’re all cooperating and trying to do this for their kids. I deeply fear that 4 weeks of a delay in the new school year will extend.

However, I am proud of how my second home is receiving international recognition for their absolutely outstanding response to this pandemic. Recently, our new cases per day has really flat-lined, as full recoveries are increasing by the day. Masks were required to enter most public places, and hand sanitizer were also very widely used. The government has begun to control the number of masks each resident can buy per week, and so far this has controlled the issue of price gouging and hoarding. And now, when I leave the house without one… it feels like I forgot to put on underwear, or pants.

*Taken from Worldometers.info’s COVID-19 Korean stats*

Last Sunday evening, I received a massive amount of Emergency Alerts about the newest COVID-19 patient in my city. With around 1,000,000 people living in this city, we have 91 confirmed patients. The most recent patient and I crossed paths the weekend before I went back to work (teaching online using office equipment, but no students present). I went to a fairly abandoned mall to make a quick run to buy some clothes for work. Of all the times I decided to deviate from my normal weekend of stay home, binge netflix, order COVID-19 safe delivery food and then head to a dog cafe that has been quite empty since the virus started, I crossed paths with patient #27. I likely was not even in close proximity with the patient in the rather large and open aired mall, but the tiny risk was there. I felt ok on Sunday, which quickly took a turn for the worst by Monday morning. I woke up with muscle soreness, chills, a cough, and some difficulty making deep inhalations.

The Korean staff made a quick Monday morning decision to send me, and my friend, Adam, who was with me when “exposed” to get the test. The process was simple. Medical tents set up outside the hospital took each step to help get my condition correct. Chest x-rays were taken, and then the COVID-19 swab tests were taken as well. They asked me for a phone number to call about results as soon as they open in the morning, and I was on my way with a few symptom relievers prescribed to me. We were told by our manager to self-quarantine for the day until results came in. With the National Health Insurance program qualifying me as a priority for the test, I paid a co-pay of $15 and the rest of the $130 was on my insurance.

Luckily, my results came back positive (and by this I mean I’m negative for COVID19, sorry for confusion), but at this point my conditions worsened. I had a fever, a sorer throat, more coughing, and severe sinus congestion. The medications did not appear to work. And my work was, again, urging me to get another test due to false negatives that sometimes occur during the beginning of symptoms showing. I went to an ENT (Eyes, Nose, Throat) Doctor to hone in on my symptoms. He was reluctant at first, and suggested I get a re-test. but decided to take a look at me… well, because other illnesses that could seriously affect your health exist, despite the pandemic.

I went home after a swab of my throat and nose. No influenzas. But a possibility of tonsillitis. I was to come in for another check up the next day. After a pain reliever and fever reducer injection, I was sent straight home to teach a bit from home.

And, yo, I have tonsillitis, which has my work requesting that I stay home from work until next Wednesday (a week from the day of my diagnosis), and to rest. I’m so grateful for how much my work family has been supporting me… Between my visit to the hospital on Monday, teaching my regular hours from home on Tuesday, psychiatrist visit and teaching from home on Wednesday, and an actual day’s rest on Thursday after my clinic visit, I ended the week with teaching my regular hours online. Resting properly has been difficult, but I am mostly feeling gradually better.

Self-quarantine does do things to disrupt your normal. While I see a lot of people “social-distancing” on instagram back home. I’d like to re-iterate, please, wash your hands, cough away from other people, and I hope that everyone stays safe. I know in the States, y’all don’t wear masks. So, stay away from people when you have any symptoms.

As the situation has calmed down here, I am hoping to be able to be more productive, lessen my depression, and alleviate my anxiety regarding being out in public.

March 22, 2020March 24, 2020

“The Benefits of Heartbreak”

Now that I’ve started out the mood of the post with a song that puts together what the last few days have felt like to me in a nice and concise 3 minute and 30 second musical delight.

This week has felt like an entire month. It started out with a nervous Monday. My mind was all over the place and fearing all of the changes that are happening all over the world. I remember being told by friends and family back home that it’s ok, and I’ll be fine during this COVID-19 mess, but… I still didn’t feel fine. Now that it’s back home my brain went into overdrive. What if my parents get sick? My friends and loved ones? I couldn’t take care of myself. I couldn’t even feed myself. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. I just couldn’t do anything productive. At this time, I managed to reach my partner, and something compelled me to ask “Do you still have room for this relationship?” While he had been busier over the last few weeks, an effort was still made to keep me in his life. I felt so disconnected and so afraid, I asked this question, that I knew the answer to.

Sadly, I could feel my mental health and control over my reactions unraveling. At times like these, my mind can often wander into the, “It would be nice to disappear” area of my brain. Or even scarier, “Who would I have to write letters to? I want them all to know it’s not because of anything they did. I was selfish and incredibly cowardly and useless” territory. I know that when these thoughts begin to invade my thoughts whenever I’m alone, it is often an issue with the medication I’m taking.

By Wednesday, I knew I had to visit my doctor. But, of course, my doctor could not see me. The hospital I visit has become the spot where Daegu city (the Korean city with the most cases) sends patients to get treatment and to keep their hospitals in operation for other conditions. It was shut down for non-COVID19 cases. I could not see my doctor. This is where being a foreigner that has limited ability to speak Korean becomes hard. I panicked, “What do you mean I can’t get support until this thing blows over?” Luckily, I have amazing support that helped me locate a new clinic that specializes in psychiatry. I’m so grateful for my friends this week.

The psychiatrist was compassionate and patient. He listened carefully to my struggles. Took note of what worked and didn’t work before putting me on a new combination of pills. 8 hours after taking my first dose, a sobering and heartbreaking realization hit me. “It’s not that my boyfriend doesn’t have room for me, I am projecting the fact that I can’t keep my head above the water in the situation and I don’t have room to be an understanding and secure person in this relationship. I needed to get back to feeling like myself, and it was no longer sustainable to try to do that while dealing with the pandemic, changed schedules, and our relationship.

I have spent the last few days regretting and then reassuring myself over making this move. Right now, to this moment, I still love him very much. But I know that he is happier and freer without the stress of having to help me maintain a level head and feeling secure in our relationship.

Why is it that it feels harder to say good-bye when it’s not because all of my love for the person has run out, but because I love them and don’t want to burden them any longer? Why is it that this remains difficult for me to process and fully accept?

Why the hell did I rip my own heart out and ghetto stomp it to pieces on purpose?

While the thoughts at the moment circle around a lot of negativity and sadness, I do want to list a few things I’m grateful for.

I’m grateful for the memories that this relationship brought me. I have experienced, learned, and felt so much affection, love, and had so many adventures with a person that I truly enjoyed spending time with.
I’m grateful for the support for my decisions, the compassion and love he showed me despite how difficult this was for me and maybe even for him.
I’m grateful for my network of friends that are rooting for me, and consequently rooting for a small possibility that we may still have love in our future.
I’m grateful for how much change, growth, and love I’ve shown myself over the last year. It hasn’t been easy, but my support system has done their best to hold me accountable.

I felt very reluctant about posting this, but I imagine some readers may have similar experiences they would like to discuss or ponder about.

I will make it a goal to update this blog more often. This is a formative period in my development and I hope to be able to write and record this journey.

March 13, 2020

Misconceptions of Love

March 14th – White Day. Korea’s all about the holidays that focus on the couple. New Year’s Day, Valentine’s Day, White Day, Christmas Eve…. all of those holidays plus 100 day anniversaries, all the anniversaries. It’s enough to make one’s head spin. But one of the biggest things about Korea is how much their media is fueled by the same “boy meets girl” narrative.

One of the biggest misconceptions of love, that I am extremely guilty of feeling, is that love is intense, sweeping, and life changing. When you fall in love with someone that’s the single most life-changing thing you will ever experience. It’ll change your world, your perspective, and your life will be complete. At least that’s what all of these Hollywood movies, K-Dramas and love songs are telling us. While I’m not saying that love doesn’t ever feel like that, I am saying that often times people, including myself, are guilty of thinking that love will stay that way forever.

In every relationship, past or present, I have definitely fallen into the trap of questioning whether or not the fading of the intense, sweeping emotions of falling for someone is normal. The questioning often leads to anxiety that my relationship is “broken” somehow, and it may or may not become a self-fulfilling prophecy where it does end up breaking down due to unrealistic expectations.

Some of these unrealistic expectations are handed down to me from generations of the belief that being in a committed relationship equals sacrifice. I’ve watched as women in the generations before me sacrifice their happiness, freedom, and opportunities to “fall in line” with their roles “behind” the men in their lives. I’ve been taught that the biggest joy I will ever have in life is to find a partner to have children with and start a family with because the people around me will question and ask about when I will reach those landmarks. I come from generations of women that believed that their sole purpose was to raise and educate their children to be productive members of society and to fall into the same roles that they once have. Generations of men and women that sacrifice for the sake of creating that family. I come from a refugee family that left their home because they had no choice to raise a family in a country that never has and never will really accept them as their own.

I am very lucky to have parents that have the ability to change, learn, and understand my wants and needs. While I have felt the pressure to walk on that path, my parents ultimately understood that not everyone’s happiness will stem from meeting those expectations. Through a lot of growing and painful experience, I’ve learned that this is what unconditional love is. To love your child no matter the decisions they make because you just want their decisions to lead to their happiness. That is love. Loving me despite the fact that I have made mistakes and continuing to support my decisions as an adult is what true parental love is. Being a supportive force in the background and allowing me to always be the captain of my own ship is what parental love should be. While they haven’t always been perfect at this, they have shown me that people can change and learn even in adulthood. They continue to astonish me in their tolerance of me as their adult child.

Some of the unrealistic expectations I have for my own romantic relationships originate in my early experiences with what romantic relationships look like. Movies, music, television all told me love is a huge sweeping feeling and it’s the “end goal.” Few movies feature stories of maintenance and sustaining a healthy relationship. They just… fall in love… then what? As I grew older and experienced different relationships, I realize that I got stuck in the maintenance and sustaining part. It was always much more difficult than I ever imagined, and sometimes, even if I felt like things weren’t going great, I’d stick around “just to see” if it got any better. It usually didn’t because love is a choice. It takes work and it is a conscious decision you make. You choose the person that you’re with, but the most important thing that I’ve learned is that you should never choose your person over yourself. Likewise, you should never expect the other person to choose you over their own mental well being. The biggest takeaway that I have learned from therapy and from relationships, past and present, is that we must both respect each other’s need to have self-care. I don’t always practice this takeaway, and there are times when my anxiety influences me to selfishly push and disrupt my partner’s need for self-care so that I can quiet my fears. Ultimately though, this is a lesson I’m learning each and every day, as I try to sustain my own romantic relationship.

Another thing I have learned about sustaining a relationship is that, while your partner is here for you and wants to support you, they cannot be your therapist. They cannot be the only person you run to in your support network. If you find that your anxieties and emotions are wearing down the relationship, it’s time to expand your support network and, if possible, seek professional help. That is the single best thing I have ever done for myself and for all of my relationships romantic or not.

March 11, 2020

Late Night Thoughts: Feelings Suck…. So bad.

I’ve written one like this before. So perhaps this is a pattern. I sometimes end up starting these posts when I’m in a negative headspace, never finish them, and leave them as drafts… unpublished. When I get back into a more “positive” or “palatable” headspace, I just go ahead and delete the post along with all of the other feelings and struggles I go through during the difficult time. Even now, as I am embarking on this project to be more authentic with myself, I am still just choosing the “prettier” parts of my recovery process to talk about. I figured, it’s almost 2AM, why not talk about the ugly shit?

I am in a depressive episode. Episodes can last anywhere between a week to several months at the worst. This particular episode started out over 2 weeks ago. We were shut down due to Coronavirus, and I knew I would start feeling negative emotions during this. My Coronavirus Staycation was a bit more eventful than I needed it to be, and, emotionally, I went through quite a few changes and growth spurts. During a depressive episode all of the thoughts usually come together as one gigantic feeling of heaviness, weighing down on my chest. It’s not sadness, because depression doesn’t mean that I’m sad. It’s a sense of failure.”Wow, I failed again. It’s 12PM, and I’m still in bed.” I try to justify it by telling myself that I “needed” that sleep. When, in fact, I probably didn’t.

This particular episode has been a challenge for me, as I have managed to get to the point where I’m asking myself “What the hell am I doing wrong?” I take the medications, I practice the rational emotive techniques I learn in therapy until I wear them down. Until the words start to not mean anything at all. Until the anxiety starts to just feel like dullness. At that point, what is the point? What is even the point of me doing this, when I end up in this place. For one, I have successfully combated the intrusive thoughts. However, the process of rationalizing the intrusive thoughts tends to be exhausting and repetitive. By the end of the day, I’d rather believe what my mind is telling me than to believe in whatever rational answer I have found myself.

In a place where I feel so alone that no matter how many people reach for me in it, I repel and just go through the motions of being okay. It isn’t until I sit alone in my bed with my phone on Do Not Disturb that I realize, it’s not that I’m alone because no one loves me, it’s that I’m alone because I choose to push people out. My friend, Depression, has successfully put me in a corner away from my support system, so that she can pick at my insecurities. She’ll pick at them until I no longer care and I am no longer worth a single extra breath.

I know that I will get through this depressive episode. I know that it may not be a pretty process, but I need to do it. For my own sake. And for the dogs.

March 7, 2020March 7, 2020

Boundaries

I think one of the things I like the most about Korea is how distinctly different each of the four seasons are. I always feel a distinct mark that signifies the end of the winter and the transitions into spring. There’s never any confusion. The cherry blossoms will bloom in April, the leaves will start to come back on the trees and by the end of May, you will begin to hear the cicadas buzzing and feel the temperature rising. Every season has boundaries and there’s very little overlapping or confusion.

In contrast, in Minnesota, where I’m originally from, our seasons blend together into a sort of either cold or not cold. Even if you’re in the clear for a few weeks from the snow storms. Maybe even when you’re about to walk across the stage to graduate from college, a snowstorm could decide to show up and it would still be pretty “normal.” The boundaries of the seasons are blurred and it can often feel rather chaotic.

Much like the seasons the way I’m able to implement and follow through with personal boundaries has been vastly different. In Korea, I live independently and manage everything on my own with little to no help. Despite not speaking much of the language, I get by and have been able to live a happy and mostly healthy life. I draw boundaries between myself and my friends, family, and significant others. They do the same for me. I have learned here, that boundaries are important and necessary in any human relationship.

Back home in Minnesota, the boundaries get blurred. Growing up, boundaries were difficult for me. As the oldest child, I was always asked and expected to do things for my little sisters, even if it meant that I didn’t want to. In fact, I was taught that self-sacrifice or yielding to the younger siblings was my job. I was taught that I should be helpful and happy for my parents’ sake because they struggled so much day-to-day that the “least I can do” is to help them with certain tasks and projects I found to be unpleasant or not enjoyable. As I grew older, I became a confidant for both of my parents, and I didn’t mind, until, at some point, it became a matter of taking on their worries and burdens as my own and treating them as my responsibility. Cracking under pressure, I remember having several blow outs with my parents regarding my boundaries. I remember being upset about something that was, in hindsight, probably something I didn’t need to be upset about, but I was. I remember being told that I was “ridiculous” or “overreacting.” I remember feeling bad for expressing that what was said to me was not ok.

During this journey of healing and growth, I have found that many of my childhood experiences that have shaped me are products of a situation where my parents, as human beings, were learning as they were going. They were taught, through tradition, that hierarchy are important, and that the higher you are up on the scale, the more rights you have to blow through boundaries. This has made it rather difficult for me to understand that every human being needs to have boundaries. It’s made it difficult for me to ask for boundaries and it’s made it difficult for me to follow requests to give space and boundaries as well.

Recently, I realized that I have people in my life that do not need to continue to have a space in my life for. After many years of patterns and repeated behavior, I finally realize that not only need to place temporary boundaries on family members but I can also put up permanent boundaries around people that I do not wish to share my time with any longer. I felt cornered into making a decision to remove a long-time friend from my life. While I did it quietly and cautiously, I felt horrible. Horrible because I know that by not providing my explanation, I am supporting myself in putting up my permanent boundary away from them, but I am going to let this person continue living wondering or blaming me for putting her through an upsetting time. Losing and cutting out friends is never easy. And at my age, it’s even harder because I can only count the friends that I truly love and depend on my two hands.

I am grateful for the skills I have learned over the last year, and I’m thankful for all of the progress I’ve made. I’m proud of myself because I am able to respect boundaries that are placed between me and my significant over much more easily than before. I hope that readers that are struggling with feeling like they are always “taken advantage of” or that they’re the friend people only call when they’re “in trouble” can understand that putting up boundaries will save you from a lot of disappointment and heartache.

February 26, 2020February 26, 2020

Coronavirus – Part Two

A lot of my family and friends have expressed worry and concern for the situation unfolding here in South Korea. As much as I appreciate suggestions to “just come home,” I have unwittingly cemented myself in this country that I call my second home and I feel that leaving now would be, perhaps, one of my biggest regrets and mistakes I could ever make. As many of my friends and family know, I have been living in Changwon, South Korea, on and off, since 2014, and it’s hard to take away the attachment and emotions I have for this country and particularly this region during such a time of crisis. So far, for this week, my academy has closed down in order to comply with public health suggestions to halt schools and classes for at least a week. We are taking this situation a day at a time, and I would like to trust that my academy will make a sound decision for our well-being and livelihoods.

Today, I visited my psychiatrist at the hospital in the midst of the madness. I was greeted by people wearing goggles and plastic protective suits and masks at the entrance of the hospital I’ve gone to every month since last year. Tents were set up for people displaying flu-like symptoms to get their exams outside of the hospital within the sealed tents. Doctors wearing full suits, gloves, goggles and masks were working tirelessly as lines of people dutifully reported their symptoms and were tested for the virus. This daunting experience at the door was nothing compared to the ghost town within the hospital. It was advised for me not to visit hospitals during this time. However, with my mental illnesses and the need to refill my prescription and check in with my psychiatrist, I bypassed the flu/COVID-19 tent and was greeted by people asking me which department I was visiting today. I was quickly ushered over to a thermal scanner which took my temperature at the door. A big green check mark appeared on the screen and I was cleared to go inside the hospital. It was a ghost town. As I entered my psychiatrist’s office for my visit, I could see in his eyes that, he too, was feeling anxious for the state of the country. A month before, there wasn’t any of this. A month before, we were discussing the virus and complimenting how well the virus has been controlled so far. But as our appointment wrapped up, he turned to me and stated, “This is… a difficult time for our country. I hope that you understand that it is okay that you are anxious. These are difficult times and we feel these difficulties together. I hope you remain safe, well, and have hope for better times here.” With those words, I felt a little bit of my hope in humanity restored.

I’ve found myself having to pick apart what is actually 100% going on with my anxiety surrounding the Coronavirus outbreak. As much as I’d like to think that I am well-read and understand basic epidemiology, it’s still difficult to control my feelings surrounding this. Discussing this with some of my family and friends residing in the West has been difficult, as their reassurances are always that I’m healthy and I’m young. As long as I am washing my hands frequently and wearing a mask in public I’ll be good. I want to update my friends and family back home in the states, but I also want to remain realistic, as I know my friends here are suffering from similar worries and anxieties that I am. I was discussing this last night with a friend here, that… a lot of people just tell me I’m “giving in to fear-mongering” by “allowing myself” to feel anxious. I know I don’t need to justify my feelings or anxieties to anyone, but I think that this can also help a lot of people understand what anxiety actually does to a person, and how to help people the know that are going through a similar situation.

My anxiety is surrounded by the idea that over the course of a week, the society that I have come to love and understand has begun to slowly turn their backs on each other. People that, previously didn’t mind being in packed elevators and buses are now cowering in fear when I enter an elevator with my two dogs. The streets that are usually full of pedestrians and cars are quiet. At night, I can hear my thoughts rather than the cars passing outside my windows. Such a drastic change within a week is not a “natural” situation to be in. When you get used to crowds and students feeding you with hands that you’re not quite sure have been washed properly today, and all of the sudden everyone is sanitizing everything and spraying down desks. Cue anxiety spike for me and, the millions of people that surround me in this tiny peninsula country.

In case folks don’t really know what’s been going on in South Korea and the severity of the situation, I have an article here that quickly sums up the general story of it all. I’m sitting in between two sides of a situation that I understand has snowballed out of control due to the non-compliance of citizens with the public health suggestions that have been widely posted everywhere. These individuals have been difficult to track down and have been reluctant to reveal their movement and connection to the Shincheonji sect that is taking the spotlight in this outbreak. The secrecy and non-compliance with the public health officials within this group has made it difficult to track down and ensure that infected individuals are not spreading the virus to others. Citizens that are complying are angry that the government isn’t “doing enough” to control this sect. And have called for the Blue House to shut down the Shincheonji sect by force via petition. The outrage that the people are feeling toward the sect is understandable, but much of the situation has become a sort of “witch hunt” for sect members.

Now, I do not need to act in panic and fear with these anxieties, but I have learned that rather than fighting the anxiety, it’s better to understand where anxiety is coming from, and what your relationship with your anxiety is like. And for me, my anxiety has been a “friend” of sorts that has worked to save me before, and she’s trying to do it again for me. I cannot simply shut her up and tell her she isn’t allowed to feel. I acknowledge and validate that the fears are real and normal. And that I can feel anxious but still operate as I usually do. I can continue to feel all of the spectrum of positive and negative feelings. And I can have a day to myself where I sit and really pick out what is going on in my brain and understand where my brain is coming from. I spent all of yesterday trying to really hone in on some of the fears and emotions and spent a lot of time journaling and reflecting on the situation.

So, to my friends in the West. It’s shitty here. I am not going to lie. This isn’t great for people with anxiety, especially someone with health anxiety. But what is important is that I’m doing everything I can to stay safe and sane. Bad days are going to happen, but I am looking forward to the day that this feels like it’s under control. For those of you in the East that are anxious despite understanding the low mortality rate of this virus and that it is not much worse than having influenza, I empathize and understand. For those of us in the midst of this outbreak, we are experiencing social changes and fears that are unprecedented. Uncertainties in the economy and in our livelihoods that are very, very scary. You are valid in your anxieties and fears, just remember that fears are just that. Fears.

February 20, 2020February 20, 2020

Coronavirus – How does it affect anxiety?

So living in the middle of Asia, of course, we’re surrounded by news of the virus. In fact, there are over 100 cases of COVID-19 in South Korea, over 70 of them confirmed in the last two days. Where did this all come from? Well, read more about it here! Our first death reported today just as I left work. All of this sounds terrifying, and it’s sending the entire country into panic mode.

I am pretty realistic when it comes to COVID-19. I understand it’s not as fatal as the flu, which kills around 10,000 a year. I understand that most people recover. What makes me anxious are the logistical things that come with living in a country that’s gripped with fear from this virus. Wearing masks that don’t help, washing my hands constantly, not touching my face. It’s all fine. But what if my school shuts down? How will we make up those days? Will we be paid? All of these questions swirl around my head and send me down panic road. How about the economy? Will it bounce back? We’re already seeing decreased productivity in China and Korea.

As I try to balance out my rational brain the feedback that my environment is giving me is that I should panic. I should be gripped in fear. I should be wearing a mask no matter where I go. I should be avoiding contact with people. It has taken its toll on me in the last couple of days, simply because of the uncertainty it has thrown into my life. I, foolishly, trusted that people would be responsible for their own health. I believed that people would get checked out if they felt ill and that they would stay home if they were sick.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

It’s been a rough few days grappling with balancing and keeping my zen while everyone around me seems to be afraid. I wash my hands, try not to touch my face, wear a mask in public, and I do the best I can to limit contact with large crowds. But, still, people are afraid. I can’t stop that, and it almost seems like I can’t stop myself from being afraid alongside of them. My rational mind is telling me that everything will be fine, but my panic mind is telling me that everything is gonna go to hell.

February 13, 2020

A Year Ago

As I’m reaching the one-year mark of my working contract here in South Korea, I realize that the person I was a year ago was drastically different than the person sitting here typing this out right now. I’ve written and re-written this entry many times now, wondering how can I actually be honest with myself if I’m not acknowledging my starting point. As painful as it is to remember and to reflect on, I need to acknowledge what I was to recognize how far I’ve come. Before reflecting on my past year here in South Korea, I’d like to paint a picture of what February 2019 was like for me.

Everything around me was hectic. I rushed to say my good-byes to people I was afraid I would not see. I tried to pack as much in as I could and, of course, I tried to spend as much time as possible with my family and my significant other. It was bittersweet. I was excited to go back to the job that brought me so much joy and made me feel so accomplished, but I was also terrified that things would turn out in a way that was completely unexpected. Despite the fear that was starting to build up inside of me in the shape of “what if” statements, I kept soldiering on and preparing for my departure.

I remember the last Friday before my departure so clearly, like it happened yesterday. Yet, I have trouble remembering all of this past year in this level of clarity. My phone rang in the morning, the phone number was from Madison, Wisconsin. I knew it was likely the APHIS Office confirming the receipt of Misha’s paperwork. When I answered, I remember the girl on the other line was so helpful. She explained to me that the records she received for Misha were out of date.

The air was knocked out of me. “Out of date? What do you mean? Did the veterinary clinic forget to include the rabies titer test from October?” She gently replied that they did, but that they did not submit the titer test to an accredited lab. At this point, I knew exactly what that meant. Having traveled with Misha to Korea before, I knew exactly which lab the blood sample must be submitted through. I knew I had told the veterinarian that it must be that lab. I even included an informational guide from the South Korean Animal and Plant Quarantine office with all of the information that I had of Misha from the last trip.

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I felt my knees go weak and I was speechless. The girl on the other line kindly asked if I was still there. To which, I weakly replied, “Yes, yes… I’ll call the vet clinic to get it straightened out.” That day, was a logistical nightmare. Being a person with anxiety, I do not like confrontation, but I confronted my veterinarian who admitted that she did not look over the informational guides I gave her, and that she went through the lab because that’s the lab that she usually sends the tests for pets traveling domestically. The veterinarian offered to send another blood test to the correct lab for an additional fee and that, “Maybe it’ll get here in time for your flight.” For the first time in my life, I think I saw red. I was so angered that all of my planning and instructions were dismissed because someone else thought they “knew better.” At that time, another veterinarian stepped in and said, “No, there will be no fee. You clearly asked us to do something with specific instructions, and we neglected to do it. We will try our best to get the bloodwork done.” I thanked the veterinarian and went home. I knew it would not be done. The lab had a waiting period of at least three weeks.

That night, I had panic attack after panic attack about not having Misha with me. My relationship with her is very close, and I depended on her heavily for my mental well being. I cried and cried and could not possible imagine my world in Korea without her. Thankfully my family and boyfriend were willing to help me get her to me as soon as May. I would only need to survive three months without her.

I’m not saying that without Misha, my mental health worsened. But I definitely was forced to face the fact that I was not well. With or without her, it was something that needed to be addressed.

I arrived in Korea to an apartment with no hot water, heat, or a bed. Nothing was prepared and it was infuriating. My work had tried to get a bed ordered to my apartment, but the delivery was delayed due to the Lunar New Year holiday, and I was forced to sleep on a folding couch for two weeks.

I think at this point, it felt like everything had gone wrong. No dog, apartment is a mess, I’m 6,000 miles from my family, and work was not coming back to me as smoothly as I would have liked. I broke. I broke into a million pieces and I am still picking them back up. I realized that so many factors in my life have contributed to that breaking point that it was inevitable. Whether I stayed back in Minneapolis or I came here, it would have happened.

February 2019 me was someone who broke down almost daily. I panicked about big and small things. I panicked about whether the students liked me. I panicked about whether I was covering the materials well enough. I panicked about whether or not I could keep up my duties as an instructor and a supervisor. I panicked to the point where I physically could not hold food down and began to avoid eating altogether. I didn’t make it more than 2 months before I knew I was completely defeated by my own fears and insecurities. Every week was a new fight, a new issue, a new insecurity that I battled through with my boyfriend on the other line. I could hear the exasperation in his voice. “What can I do for you? What do you want?” He would ask. I had no answer. I had no idea.

Booking that first therapy appointment was the best decision of my life. I practice what I learned through the sessions every single day. I practice mindfulness and grounding. I practice forgiving myself and setting realistic standards. I continue to work through insecurities, trauma and maladaptive behavior. I will continue to fight for me.

Now, a year later, I want to pat myself on the back for getting through those first few months. I want to tell myself that I’ve improved a lot since then. I want to say that even though I haven’t been perfect, I am still doing the best I can do for me. I want to read back on this entry on a rough day and remember that I have come a very long way from what I was. A lot can happen in a year, and this last year in Korea has felt like an entire lifetime.

February 7, 2020

Late Night Thoughts – A Week That Felt Like 3

It’s been a while since I’ve been up this late with my head buzzing with thoughts. It’s been relatively easy for me to fall asleep as of late, because of how tired I’ve been. Work has been exhausting, rewarding, but also emotionally challenging. I am nearing the end of a full calendar year of my return to this branch, and only now am I finally feeling like I am back and can take on any class without the overwhelming pressure to prep every single detail. Of course, that all had to change this week, as it felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath me and we’re starting from scratch once again.

Overhauls of programs that I have finally perfected means I need to perfect a whole new class structure. Luckily, this time, my involvement in its creation is fairly large, and I have some say in how the class will be structured, but the stress of creating content, and executing it in the way that I’m imagining in my head is overwhelming. I feel that inner critic coming out to tell me that this isn’t going to work. That voice is telling me that no matter what I make it’s not going to be good enough.

This week has been another week of challenges. What feel like setbacks in my emotional health. I’m not going to lie and say that I got through this colossal mess of a week without shedding a single tear. Lots of crying in the shower and crying myself to sleep was required to get through this brutally long week.

As the weekend approaches, my body and mind seem to be relaxing itself, but not without an immense feeling of guilt and shame. I have so much work I will need to do starting next week, and maybe I should be working on some of it over the weekend to make sure I stay on track. On the other hand, my brain and body are screaming “PLEASE! Take a break! Rest and enjoy your weekend with friends.” I don’t want to have Sunday creep up on me with the realization that I have a ton of stuff crammed into the week to do, and not enough time to do any of it.

Aside from work woes, I feel that, on a personal level, it has been hard to stay grounded. Depersonalization has happened a lot as I chug through difficult parts of my day. I often try to check in with my emotions and, frankly, they aren’t there. I am so exhausted that I feel like a shell of a human being. Every day, I walk around just barely here and feeling as if things aren’t real life. “What? I can’t possibly hav been here for a year. It feels like just a few months ago that I was packing stuff into my suitcases and crying about how my dog, Misha won’t get to be with me until May.” How much of me has changed? How little of me has changed? I hope that it hasn’t been too dramatic of a change.