Tag: depression

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2 Years Out of a Toxic Workplace

It has been over 2 years since I walked away from one of my longest relationships I ever had… my first workplace in Korea. They helped me grow and learn in so many ways, and I am always going to be grateful for that experience.

I recently just renewed my contract at my current school, and it had me thinking about the other contracts I had prior. In between every year, I took a break. One break was over a year long. At the end of each contract, I felt beaten down, drained, and completely shattered. I needed the “break.” I always thought to myself, “After a 3 month break back home, I’ll be ready to tackle another year.” It wasn’t until the last year, or so, have I realized that this is not normal.

Now, to compare my current workplace to my first workplace would actually be rather fair. They both are rigorous, have management teams that really strive for perfectionism, and micro-manage at times. So, why am I so much happier where I am now? I found out that a lot of it lies in my decisions and the way I present myself.

I have strong boundaries on what I will and will not do. In the past, I used to work late, come in early, and just spent almost every waking moment at school doing work… or not doing work. I showed up because there was an expectation of me to do so. It’s what the others in my position had done, and I was expected to follow this expectation. What was written on my contract didn’t matter to them, and when I brought up that boundary, I was pressured to sign an addendum that altered my working hours. Here, I do not budge on my working hours. My contract says I clock out at 6pm, so I am clocking out at 6pm. I get in right before 9am, as per my contract. I do all of my work during the allotted prep time and there is nothing more. My supervisors understand this and respect me for it as long as my work is done. Perhaps it is a bit of me learning to not feel pressured into giving in and also having very understanding management.

I will always remember how replaceable I am, and how replaceable my workplace is. The relationships I forged were some of the most difficult things to let go of. Even after leaving my previous workplace, I still tried to maintain a connection to people that were still working there. I even made a visit back to say hello to some of my former colleagues. During that time, I was still struggling with the loss of the place and the connections I made. In the end, time has seen many changes. It has been two full years since my departure, and things continue to be the same. People work there and when their time is done, they leave. Just as I had. I, myself, have worked in two different places and left. Each time, saying good-bye became easier. I am replaceable, and so is my workplace. My health and my soul, however, are not.

I have learned that I work to live, but I do not live to work. I am working to afford a life that brings me happiness and fulfillment. My work is not my personality, and my time there helps me earn the money I need to live a full and satisfying life. I do enjoy my work, and I do derive joy from helping my students grow and learn. But at the end of the day, I am so much more than Ms. Yvonne, the teacher. I’m also a friend, a wife, and a caring parent to my fur children. I’m a daughter, sister, granddaughter, and niece. I enjoy movies, true crime documentaries, traveling, and yoga. The list can go on, and I must make room for all of those parts of me to flourish.

This is now two years without feeling completely shattered at the end of a contract. Two years of seeing a future ahead of me. Two years of being content with my life and workload. I wouldn’t mind seeing a few more.

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Late Night Thoughts: Changes – Unexpected Triggers

TW: Mentions of death, euthanasia of a pet, & grief.

It has been one hell of a year for me. I actually haven’t exactly faced every change that I have gone through until I had to explain some recent traumatic life changes that my cat went through in the last year.

I took my cat to the vet today to try to pinpoint a cause for his sudden (kind of) habit of peeing in my bed. This, in itself, was already a trauma trigger for me. I haven’t been to a vet since our last visit where we put Dobby to sleep. I didn’t realize how triggering being in this setting would be. As I sat in the waiting room of a completely different vet’s office, memories came flooding back. I remembered stroking Dobby in the waiting room before our first visit. I remember thinking, “It’s going to be just fine after this. We’ll figure it all out and we’ll go home. You’re going to be fine.”

It started to get a bit hard for me to breathe as I replayed the memories of her last few moments. We sat in a waiting room, much like this one, holding onto her as she struggled to keep her eyes open and breathe. I was with my partner then, and we had each other. He wasn’t able to come this time, so I was so thankful that, at the last minute, I decided to bring Misha with me as well. Her calm expression and demeanor made it easy to ground myself enough to get through the visit. I felt myself shaking as I ran through the possible scenarios that could play out with Butterscotch. His inappropriate peeing could be a UTI or, worse, a urinary track block that’s causing him immense pain and suffering. I shuddered at the possibility of something life threatening.

When the vet asked about any disruptions or changes in life that could lead to stress for Butterscotch, I recounted the year of changes that both the cat and I went through. I started with the fact that we had moved twice in the span of 6 months. I also mentioned getting married and living with my now-husband full time probably adding stress. He adores my husband, but it was a change nonetheless. Then we got to Dobby’s passing. I choked up a bit and muttered, “He lost his best friend, my other dog, at the end of April. Yeah, I think he started peeing inappropriately a month or two after that.” I felt so stupid for not thinking of this sooner.

The vet looked back at me with the kindest, most understanding eyes. All I could think of was, “Oh shit, I’m choking up in front of this stranger. He must think I’m a weirdo.” I turned away to look at Butterscotch, who was trembling in the carrier and clutching the sweater I put in with him. The vet replied, “That is a lot of change and stress for a little cat to go through in such a short amount of time.” I know and understand that my cat doesn’t feel grief and loss in the same way I do. He probably doesn’t feel like his breath gets knocked out of him from time to time as he feels the weight of Dobby’s absence. What I do know is that he feels stressed, disoriented, and no longer secure in his world.

Over the last, almost, 8 months, I have been feeling an odd sense of disconnect. I spend large periods of time completely dissociated with my emotions. My co-teacher that I work with closely asks me, “Are you ok?” nearly every day. At those moments, I snap back in and I tell myself, “Man, you really need to get your shit together people can tell you’re not ok.” While I am happy with all of the things that have happened recently, and happy to be able to make more memories with my husband and fur family, I feel a constant feeling of loneliness and disorientation.

It’s a weird place to be when you’re looking forward to the future, but still longing for the past. How can I be happy while being absolutely shattered? It’s all very confusing. In order to get through and do the everyday tasks I need to do to survive, I dissociate & disconnect to survive.

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Feelings I Protect Myself From

We have been taught that there are “good” feelings and “bad” feelings. We want to always feel “good” feelings and never feel the “bad” feelings. In fact, we must avoid “bad” feelings at all costs. We must learn mechanisms in order to, not cope, but to dodge these feelings in any way we can.

Well, the hard truth is that the categorizations of “good” and “bad” feelings are utter bullshit. Feelings are feelings and they are meant to be felt. Sure, some of them are uncomfortable and not fun to deal with while others are addictive and you can’t get enough of them. However, the truth is none of the feelings can exist without all of the others. There can be no happiness without sadness, anger, or fear. There can be no excitement without worry, dread, or uneasiness. The whole array of human feelings are necessary and healthy.

One of the main feelings that I developed, rather unhealthy, coping mechanisms to deal with is disappointment. No one enjoys the feeling of disappointment. Some of us develop such an aversion to it that we make it a point to predict and control outcomes of every situation. I have also been criticized for being overly pessimistic. I always tell myself to expect the worst-case-scenario so that I never feel disappointed if it turns out better than expected. Of course, this has led to a whole bunch of self sabotaging… but that can be a topic for another day.

Another feeling that I tend to avoid like the plague is fear. This emotion is so common for people that suffer from anxiety. The future holds so many unknown factors that it can be hard not to spiral out of control. Often times, we avoid activities or thought patterns that trigger fear. While this is a coping mechanism does not seem harmful, it is actually teaching us to not listen to ourselves. Fear is a sign that something in your life needs to change in order to create safety and security. I felt the most fear during a time when my personal relationships were the most unstable and toxic. The fear I felt was trying to tell me something needed to change and avoiding the cause of my fear was not going to do anything to fix it.

I was taught at a young age that anger is unbecoming on me. As the oldest daughter in an immigrant family, I felt an immense amount of pressure to be successful and a good role model. During times of misunderstanding between my parents and I, I would often let my mask down. I would get angry. The amount of backlash and guilt that I felt after unleashing anger on my parents (who always mean well) was unbearable. How dare I, a child that has been given everything from my parents, ever feel angry at them for anything? How dare I not be grateful? The moment anger crept in, the immediate guilt was too much to handle. I spent much of my early adulthood biting my tongue, pushing down my anger in order to keep peace. Anger causes conflict. Conflict causes stress. Therefore, I must cut out anger in order to avoid all of this stress. Obviously, this has backfired and resulted in plenty of resentment to sort through in therapy.

Lastly, society has taught me that sadness and, especially, grief are to be avoided. I remember the day after Dobby passed away, I went straight to work after sleeping 2.5 hours. I avoided the topic like the plague. There’s no way I would allow myself to feel sadness and bring other people down with it. I assumed I knew that people were thinking, “It’s just a dog, what’s the big deal?” While I know that a majority of those around me would not think that, I just knew that I could not live with the guilt of making others uncomfortable with my grief and sadness.

So, what have I learned about negative emotions? I now know that they are all absolutely necessary for me to feel that positive emotions. Many of the negative emotions serve a purpose in our existence. They are here to tell us that something is not right in our balance. They are signs to listen to ourselves and they should be acknowledged. Most importantly, they should be felt.

In dealing with our negative emotions, we must be comfortable with wading into uncomfortable territory. It takes work and introspection. It takes courage and strength to work through. What has really helped me deal with my negative emotions is changing the motivation behind the activities I do to lift myself out. Rather than distracting myself with exercise so that I can “forget about” the negative emotion that I am feeling, I tell myself that taking care of my body will bring my base line to a better place. By taking care of myself and lifting my immediately feelings out of negativity, I can then be better equipped to go back to my negative emotion and search for the root cause or trigger.

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Putting Things On Hold

It has already been over a month since we said good-bye to Dobby. As we have been moving through grief, I found myself putting things aside for myself to “deal with” when things “settled down.” It became so hard for me to make plans for anything farther than a week out, because of how hard it was for me to predict my mood and energy levels.

I can’t speak for every grief experience, but for me, grief has done a funny thing. It’s made it hard for me to see a future, even as I continue to move forward and get through each day. Even as I continue to reach that “future” that I have a hard time seeing, I can’t really see much farther forward. Maybe it’s because everything I imagined for my future had Dobby in it. Re-imagining my world without her has been so difficult.

I live each day with a bit of a fog over me. The littlest things send me down a spiral of reliving the moment I had to start recalibrating my life to this new reality. As I have been adjusting to this reality, I feel my boundaries for what I will tolerate in my life shift. I wonder if the people around me feel it to be unfair that now I am suddenly not OK with things I was fine with weeks ago.

Boundaries are important to have no matter the state of your mind, and I think it’s important to realize that it’s OK for them to shift. I am learning to move past the guilt I feel when I say no to things I would have said yes to before. I am learning to that I don’t have to “spare the feelings of others” because the ones that truly care for me want to know how they can support me. I am learning to be gentle with myself and ask for room to heal and recharge.

I am also learning that I can be and feel two things at once. I realize that it is OK for me to look forward to the future while holding my lost one in my heart. It’s OK for me to be excited about my next steps in life, but also reminisce and look toward the past. It’s been hard and riddled with guilt, but I know that Dobby would have hated seeing me neglect the beauty of each day in order grieve and remember her.

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The Sunday Blues

The Sunday Blues… The Sunday Scaries… whatever you would like to call them. They suck. Credits to my friend, Alison, for spurring this conversation earlier this evening. I was experiencing a pretty rough writer’s block that was a bit confusing for me. I was feeling so much anxiety, sadness, and even anger, but I had no idea how to streamline and organize these thoughts. Then I get a message from my friend: “I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.”

I always go through a cycle of thoughts on Sunday afternoon. The first one is, “How the hell am I going to do this for the next 35 or so years?” I am in my 30s now, and I know that I will probably only be able to retire in my mid 60s… it’s a long way from now. There are so many more Sundays that I will probably experience. When will this get better? What if it doesn’t? How am I going to work for the rest of my life?! This semi-existential crisis usually lasts for a while, as I frantically try to think of ways I can cheat this system.

Eventually, I get to, “Maybe I just need a career change. Maybe I am burnt out and I just hate my job.” Sometimes, this really could be it. Personally, I realized that it isn’t really work that makes me feel this way. While I am at work, I feel fine… I might even say great. I am busy and engaged with activities with my students. I feel useful. I am productive and I take good care of myself during the week. I eat well, I exercise, and I feel mostly healthy.

During my discussion with my friend, I slowly came to the realization that I get a bit depressed from the routine. The routine of having to go back to work for another week reminds me of how my life has sort of landed in this weird spot. I have scrambled over the last month to make things feel normal again after Dobby’s passing. Now that things have sort of flattened out and a routine has been developed… I’m sort of in a “Now what?” phase.

The Sunday Sadness is basically a case of anticipatory anxiety. Anticipating the work to come in the week can be daunting, and, for me, the unknown can cause so much stress. Taking the time to rest and recharge on Sundays is so important to me, and I am so thankful that I was able to fully focus on myself today. The Sunday Blues are inevitable, but, at least, I am well-equipped to self-reflect and help myself through them.

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Memory Loss & Depression

This post was spurred by a recent realization that I had while chatting with my mother on the phone. I do not remember details from the years of 2017-2020.

This sounds severe, but hear me out. I know what happened during those years, and I know, generally, how I came to be in the position that I am in now. I understand how I got to this point in life, but I do not have many memories of how I got here. Perhaps this is a normal part of life. Perhaps this is not as weird as I am describing it to be.

What I can say is, during these years I do not have many memories in which I am experiencing the things I experienced first hand. It feels as if I was told about these experiences and was told that these happened to me. I feel a sense of disconnect when I think about 2019 and the place I was in.

I also remember that I was extremely forgetful. I say was but there are still times when I am forgetful now. The more dissociated I felt, the more forgetful I would be. It started out small. I would forget if I applied shampoo while in the shower and I’d shampoo my hair just in case I did. One time, I realized that I had forgotten to rinse out the shampoo and had started to dry off before realizing that my head was covered in suds. It escalated to forgetting if I had eaten, what day of the week it was, and important appointments.

I sit here, now, and I am trying to recount what I was thinking or feeling during that time. All I can come up with is an image of gray. Perhaps it is from the trauma of dealing with interpersonal relationships that were either abusive or turbulent, but I really do not remember too many happy moments even though I know that they existed.

I guess my point in writing this is: Does anyone else relate to this sense of disconnectedness?

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The Mask I Wear

I have been wearing a mask for most of my life. I used to live in fear that someone would find out what really goes on inside my head as I go through the movements. I used to move through life without much of a fuss. Ask me how I’m doing, and I almost always respond with, “Not bad!” I mask my feelings by being a functioning and competent person. I always got through everything and accomplished all of the steps I was expected to take with no extensions, no extra time… well… until I was driven to the edge and needed more than just time and rest.

I have come a long way from May 2019. I call that the turning point in my life where I finally realized that I could put the mask down and start putting down boundaries and start to heal. I was met with understanding, at first, but I realized that most people cannot bear to sit with what I really am. What I really am is an actual mess, and that’s not me being too hard on myself. If we all dig down deep enough, we will all find a bit of a mess somewhere in there. While I learned that I need to advocate for myself and ask for what I need, I also was reminded that not many people are willing to be by my side when I am struggling. I remember this lesson so well, that I have that mask at hand whenever I need it… even to this day.

These days, as I work through the grief I have been experiencing with losing Dobby, I find myself leaning heavily into wearing that mask to get through each day. I remind myself that I have a duty to fulfill. I need to show up to my job and provide for myself and for my other two pets. I also am leaning on the sense of normalcy that going to work gives me. It’s something that doesn’t change and will always be there to anchor all of the chaos that’s going on around me. To be honest, wearing my mask of competence and feigned strength has grounded me to a routine that keeps me from spinning too far out of control.

I decided that I need to take off my mask for just a moment and allow myself the space to let out some of these feelings.

Not a moment goes by where it doesn’t feel a little bit like I’m running out of air. Every time I think about how abruptly everything has changed it feels like a punch to the stomach. I have relived that last moment when I stroked Dobby’s head as she left this world possibly a thousand times. Each time, I internally let out that gasp I let out when the doctor informed us that Dobby’s heart had stopped. Sometimes I hope that if I relive it enough that it will finally not hurt as much as it does. But every time, it hurts like it’s happening right before my eyes.

Every time I wake up, the first thought that hits me is that she’s not here. I have to tell myself that no one is meant to be here forever, but it just doesn’t quite make sense to me. I have gone through the stages, especially the stage of denial and anger over and over. These stages are not linear and I have gone through all of them multiple times over. I am, quite frankly, sick of it. But I have to keep feeling and processing because I do not want to be stuck here in the anger stage forever.

For the sake of everyone around me, I keep my head up and I keep on moving. I know that I have every right to continue to feel sad and be sad. But I also know that there may, one day, be a day where all of this will feel a little less raw and fresh. I really do want to look toward the future, as Dobby would always do. But man, I wish I could stay living in those moments where Dobby was happy, healthy, and alive. I truly would give anything to go on one more walk with her, give her one more treat to her, and get one more kiss from her. But that’s not how life works. No matter how much you love someone or something, there will always come a time where you will have to say good-bye and there’s nothing that we can do once that time has come and gone.

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Grief – Stuff No One Tells You

This is still so fresh in my mind and being. It will be interesting to see how my grief evolves as time goes on. I briefly mentioned my experience in losing one of my beloved dogs last month in my Life Update: Where I’ve Been post. The grief that has come out of this event has been full of ups and downs. It has been such an experience, and I have come to realize that a lot of things that people say and believe about grief and the loss of a loved one are utter bullshit.

Time does not heal all wounds. If I have to hear this one more time, I may scream. No matter how much time passes, losing a loved one may not “heal.” I feel that people are so adamant about “moving on” and “healing” that they forget about the fact that the loss will never change. Once gone, the person or being that has left this world will never re-materialize in front of us. Sure, the reminders may not sting as much after a long period of time, but it may never stop and that is OK.

I will probably never get over it and this is also OK. Life is not a race to “get over” bad feelings. “Good vibes only” is probably the most debilitating and unrealistic goal that so many people fall into. In today’s culture of toxic positivity, we need to exude positivity and the desire to “better oneself” in order to be of value. I understand that negative feelings are uncomfortable to deal with… especially if it is happening to someone else. Processing and fully feeling your emotions, good or bad, is healthy and normal.

I cry a lot about the situation, and this is also normal. Over the course of my life, I somehow learned that crying was a symbol of weakness. “Crying doesn’t fix anything,” is the mentality that many of my elders have taken on and passed down to my generation. While this is objectively true, crying can be a cathartic way to acknowledge the existence of a negative emotion and allow it to pass through a person. To cry without judgement has been such a gift to me in this journey. Witnessing another person cry or crying yourself should not hold the amount of shame that it does. Sometimes, you gotta just let it out.

Telling me that everything happens for a reason, and that this is all part of a greater plan does not help. If you know me personally, you will know that I am not a religious or spiritual person. Even if I was, it is very painful to conceptualize that the loss of someone so dear and so great is justified because there is a “bigger plan” for me. I will not argue whether or not this holds any objective truth. I will only say that this does not help anyone going through loss. People that are going through loss do not need an “answer” or “justification” to their loss, they simply need a safe space to process emotions, share memories, or discuss their feelings.

I know she was “just a dog,” but let’s stop policing what type of loss is ‘valid’ enough for grief. I understand that the grief I am feeling for the loss of my dog is different. It is just that different. To judge whether or not someone’s loss is “worthy” of the grief they are experiencing ignores the fact that each person and situation is different. It is perfectly fine not to understand another person’s loss and grief. It is not perfectly fine to make them feel like their feelings are disproportionate to what they are experiencing.

I really don’t need to be strong for anyone. I do not need to force myself to get through my emotions for anyone other that myself. No one needs to cover up or hide their negative feelings. If someone asks me how I am doing, and I am not doing well, I really don’t need to sugar coat it. I realize that this will mean that less people will feel comfortable in asking me how I’m doing, and that’s fine.

So these are just a few realizations I have had as I have been navigating life with grief. These experiences and thoughts all came from well-meaning people. I share this in the hopes that others that are experiencing grief or know of someone that has recently been through loss will feel more validated, less alone, and better equipped to deal with this complicated and often messy journey.

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Life Update: Where I’ve Been

It’s been about 2 months since my last post… and I have so many partly finished posts just sitting in my drafts folder.

It’s been such a whirlwind over the last few months, and I wanted to take some time to update (for those that care) on what has been going down in my life, and how that has affected me on my mental health journey.

First of all, I moved to another city to start a new job for the 2022-2023 school year. This move has been so highly anticipated for me and my tiny fur family. We were moving back to Gyeongsangnam-do and to the city where my journey here in Korea began. I only spent a little more than a year away, and I missed it so much. Moving back meant that I was going to be closer to my partner and his family. My support system would be stronger here. The hustle and bustle of the move left me with little time to start or finish up any posts. Honestly, the first month back in town was busy and full of friends and reunions.

After two years of dodging it, I finally caught COVID-19. I finished up the month of March under quarantine. You would think that would give me plenty of time to work on content… but I, unfortunately, dealt with some pretty debilitating symptoms during the first 5 days of quarantine. I was severely congested and fatigued. I was constantly shifting myself to get comfortable enough for a few winks of sleep. Overall, self-isolation wasn’t all too bad. I was a bit lonely, but my three little fur children kept me company.

During the second week of April, my younger dog, Dobby, suffered a second injury in her spine. She had previously suffered from IVDD (Intervertebral Disc Disease) and underwent surgery at the end of 2021. A second injury is not uncommon, but it was totally unexpected for us. We had moved to a home with an elevator, and she had been doing so well in terms of fitness and mobility. We had an MRI done 2 days after she began to show signs of injury, and we found that not only had 2 discs ruptured, but there were signs of myelomalacia. Myelomalacia is a rare condition that can occur when a dog has IVDD and an injury. Essentially, it is the softening (or death) of the spinal cord. The prognosis is not good, but the only hope she had for recovering was undergoing another IVDD surgery. The surgery and stem cell treatment slowed down the myelomalacia progression, but could not stop it. We lost Dobby on April 20th, 2022.

Quite frankly, I have not been well. I suppose it is to be expected. I have dealt with anxiety, depression, and panic attacks for years. I, honestly, have never had to deal with grief like this. The sheer shock of losing my youngest dog, who was only 4 years old, has been rough but I would do it all again if I had the chance. Dobby is and will always be such a special part of my life and heart. I am so lucky to have had the honor to be her momma.

In dealing with grief, I have realized that writing and expressing has helped me feel so much better. I am so grateful to the support system I have with my partner and all of my wonderful friends. I am grateful, but I miss this space and sharing my thoughts and experiences in this crazy journey. For now, I am back. I hope to continue to put out content that speaks to others and their experiences as well.

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Habits I’ve Started

Bouncing off of last week’s post on getting back into yoga, I made a list of commitments to myself at the start of this year that have stuck around through the first month of 2022. These habits aren’t necessarily new ones that I am embarking on for the first time. Actually, none of these are. They are habits that I once had, but lost due to the highly unusual last several years we have all experienced together.

Closing Activity Rings

If you’re not an Apple Watch owner, this probably doesn’t mean anything to you. Closing the rings on your Apple Watch simply means that you have met your daily goal to stand, move, and exercise. I have modest goals set on my watch, but it’s surprising how often I have spent weekends completely immobile. While time to vegetate and rest is absolutely crucial, I know that I need to move during the day to combat that guilt that is always paired with rest. Giving myself the attention and love that I need includes taking care of my physical body.

Not Eating Out (as much)

I am and have always been someone who eats out often. A huge part of my budget is allocated to meals at restaurants. This probably comes from my upbringing as a restaurant baby. My parents never spared expenses when it came to eating out. I carried this energy onto being an adult, and for years I have been living alone and just ordering take-out or eating out most days a week. Obviously this means that the money I earn doesn’t stay with me. This has caused me to feel behind when it comes to meeting financial goals. I also found that eating out did not necessarily bring me joy. Restaurant food is not always unhealthy, but preparing my own food ensures that I am giving myself what I need to be healthy. I started this habit during the last few months of 2021, and it has stuck! I have learned to cook so many delicious things, and have really begun to enjoy making my own food and sharing it with my partner.

Vacuuming

It’s not what it looks like. I vacuum! For most of the time I have been living alone I vacuumed at least once every 2 or 3 days if not every day. There were times where I fell behind on vacuuming during depressive episodes. As many long-time friends and readers know, I have three pets. We live together in a fairly small one-room apartment here in South Korea. All three of my animals shed all year round. Before permanently adopting my cat, Butterscotch, vacuuming every 2 or 3 days was perfectly fine. It would get a bit dusty if I leaned toward the 3 day mark, but it would be manageable. After adopting Butterscotch, it was like I suddenly had 5 dogs. My cat is a short hair, but he sheds constantly. I discovered, last year, that I needed to step up my vacuuming in order to feel happy in my home. I now vacuum at least once a day, but most days it’s two or three times a day. It has done wonders for my mental health, and my pet’s happiness as well.

Slow Wake Ups

Lastly, with a little more sleep, I have been able to wake up early and a little more gradually. I have started using an alarm that starts low and gentle and gradually wakes me up. It has helped me come out of sleep much less violently and has helped me start the day with a little more elevated of a mood. Giving myself time to slowly wake up, check messages, pet the dogs and cat a little bit, and doing a good stretch or meditation has made such a positive impact. Here’s a wake up meditation from Yoga with Adriene that I listen to often as I get up to start my day!

If I’m feeling especially energetic and ambitious, here’s a quick 5 minute yoga practice to get the blood flowing that I have also worked in!

I hope this has given some of you guys some ideas on starting small and reasonable goals to help you out of any COVID-19 fatigue or depressive episode you might be experiencing.

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