It’s week four of social isolation. Like we all should be, I’ve been staying at home and socially isolating myself as much as possible.
If I’m honest, this is absolutely no change to my schedule. Whatsoever. I’m fortunate in that I am 100% telework in my research role at CHAMP, and have been remote for almost 3 years. In Army time, that’s: 2 moves, a few deployments/trips/some military thing for the spouse, a few professional certifications for me, and approximately 3.5 billion cups of coffee. It’s also 2 medicine balls that I accidentally destroyed by constructively channeling my stress into my workouts. Because when I optimize performance, it’s 100%.
More importantly, I’m an introvert who has a stack of new books to read. So if my nation needs me to stay at home and read for both fun and work, then I guess I can make the sacrifice. I’ve trained my whole life for this.
One problem: I didn’t account for my reaction to the rest of my family being home.
All. Day. Long.
This is particularly unknown territory when I’m used to my military spouse being gone half the year. I’ve been socially conditioned to him being around the exact opposite of “ALL THE TIME.”
Slowly my patience wears down, and at night I inevitably end up looking at Pinterest-perfect Facebook posts on how to have a color-coded schedule and a constantly clean house while balancing a career and earning a Nobel peace prize and Olympic gold medal. Apparently, as the social media posts of perfectly-put-together people who are smiling indicate, the key to this is gratitude.
But one lesson I learned in the years I’ve dealt with the stress of being a military spouse and a clergy person is this: Gratitude isn’t meant to be Instagram-worthy. It isn’t a practice that requires you to be at your best, happiest, and most put-together. Far from it. In fact, gratitude is the practice of remembering the gift and blessing behind your frustration, anger, and/or possible existential “grumpitude.”
Gratitude is the practice you go to when you know you’re about to lose your ever-loving last piece of patience as your spouse asks for the 12th time—while you’re trying to work—where the bowls are in the kitchen.
Or it’s when your dog decides to lose her mind barking at the squirrel 3 yards over during your video conference call with your brand-new boss.
Or it’s when you’re 2 weeks into holding down everything at home during deployment—and “the curse” hits as the dishwasher breaks, your debit card is hacked, and you realize your dependent ID is expired all in the same hour.
Gratitude reminds you that your frustration isn’t directed at a person, situation, or thing, but at what’s keeping you from your favorite gifts that you have in your life.
It’s the gift of having a wonderful person who, while hopeless in the kitchen, loves you so much they can recognize every grumpy look you give them and see the love behind it. Then they proceed to make you your favorite vanilla latte because they know where your favorite coffee cup is.
It’s the gift of the universe deciding that dog you rescued would love you so much she guards you from Every. Single. Squirrel. Ever. To. Exist. And cats? Don’t even start her on the protection detail she’s planned to keep you safe from cats.
Gratitude is the gift of knowing it will all work out because you’ve got an amazing support system—as your best friend can recommend 3 plumbers in the area and what dishwashers to avoid because she went through it all last month. Or you’re grateful that your bank handled the hack before you registered it was happening. And that, well, I’ve got nothing on the dependent IDs. Renewing those is just always a……joy. We’ll go with joy.
So as the weeks move forward, and we see how life is like during and after the pandemic, remember you and your life don’t have to be perfect. And be grateful for that.
Libby Alders, of the Henry M. Jackson Foundation, is a Research Associate for the Consortium for Health and Military Performance (CHAMP) at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences (USUHS).
* The opinions and assertions expressed herein are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of USUHS or DoD. The contents of this publication are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions, or policies of The Henry M. Jackson Foundation for the Advancement of Military Medicine, Inc. Mention of trade names, commercial products, or organizations does not imply endorsement by the U.S. Government. The author has no financial interests or relationships to disclose.
