Take off the cape, put on the armor

A few years ago, as I began my morning journal, this sentence came to me.

I understood it as a metaphor for getting in the trenches, but that it was also about removing the idea that I’m responsible for anyone but myself.

I’m no hero. I’m one woman.

Those words were a reminder that it isn’t my job to save the world and even if it was my job—it’s a completely unrealistic endeavor. I can save no one, with the exception of myself. I can advocate for others, I can teach others, I can empower others, but it is not my job to save them. I am responsible for myself, and I can also empower others to be responsible for themselves. If needed, I can teach others, especially my students, how to be responsible for themselves. In a way, it’s a statement that gives people permission to self-protect.

At the time those words were a powerful admonition to myself to stop believing that I was responsible for the well-being of everyone else, and instead focus on myself.

Those words were my reminder that my health and well-being are solely my responsibility. But not only my responsibility, my duty to protect.

They were a reminder to do my best to take exquisite care of myself.

The idea of armoring up as a form of self-care and self-preservation was, in some ways, enlightening.

I realized it’s not about keeping people away, but rather understanding my role of loving, caring for, and empowering myself. It’s about relinquishing the notion that I can change anyone else—it’s simply not my job.

And those words came to me again today, as we all continue navigating the uncharted territory of COVID-19. That, along with recent events from my own life remind me to practice self care.

Because while I’d like to say I’m simply working from home, I’m actually currently unemployed.

My timing couldn’t have aligned more perfectly—or imperfectly, as is the case— with the outbreak of COVID-19.

Working as a speech-language pathologist in the public school setting for the past 7 years, I had come to the powerful and sobering realization that the public schools weren’t the best fit for me. About a year ago, I began a job search. In December 2019, I was contacted by a company to whom I had applied three and a half years earlier when I re-located to Madison. The company provides speech therapy, occupational therapy and physical therapy services, among others, in a clinical setting. The interview process began and as we learned more about each other, I was confident that this was the perfect position for me. The clinic conducts therapeutic intervention in a collaborative, family-centered, play-based setting. I was truly excited about my career and profession for the first time in many years.

I was offered a job, which I accepted, serendipitously, on my birthday—February 24th, 2020. I was excited, but also nervous and a bit anxious about leaving the school mid-year. But I had wanted a change for over a year and the profound realization that the school system wasn’t a good fit for me, created a finality that enabled me to take that leap. Past experience working in a clinical setting ensured this new position would absolutely be a positive career move. After accepting the position, I received and signed the offer letter. I submitted my resignation letter to my current employer and left my school district two weeks later, on March 10th, 2020.

Throughout this time there had been rumblings and murmurs about Coronavirus in the news, but I generally ignored the impact that it might have on my future and went about my business, believing that like many other viruses that we hear about on the news, this one would remain isolated. Little did I know that a mere two days after my last day, everyone in my school district would be instructed to teach virtually following the spring break. And that I would be unemployed, having accepted a dream job with an innovative company that could no longer afford to hire me.

No job. No insurance.

My inner critic, of course, whispers that I should have just waited until my contract ended in the summer, that I was being selfish. It would be so easy for me to fall into a trap of berating my decision, second guessing my choices, and falling into a vortex of shame and despair.

But, despite not having a huge savings, having zero current prospects for employment, and like all of the world, no clear idea of when life will return to normal, I’m not freaking out.

The primary reason for my calm is that I have finally, after many decades of being alive on this planet, realized that worrying, stressing, and fretting have zero impact on an outcome, but they have a profound effect on a body and mind. I simply can’t worry because it won’t change anything for the good.

So I suit up. Put on the armor. Get into the trenches. Take care of me. And know that this, too, shall pass.

It may not evolve in the way I expected or even wanted—there will be a new normal—but it will all work out. In the meantime, I simply need to take care of myself and my loved ones.

I’m healthy. My family and friends are healthy. I have what I need now to be comfortable, warm, healthy, and fed.

Take off the cape, put on the armor.

In what ways do you think you might be wearing a cape when you should be wearing armor?