“Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart,
And you'll never walk alone.”
~ Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II

Wow, 2020 just keeps on giving, doesn’t it? As I’m writing this, Hurricane Isaias has just left us. Last evening it picked up speed and intensity and made landfall in Ocean Isle Beach, North Carolina. Even though we live a couple of hours from the coast, it’s always an anxious time beforehand for those of us in central NC, as hurricanes are notoriously unpredictable. We’re used to them here as they often skirt our coast. Meteorologists are predicting a more active year than usual, so we’ve still got several months to be on guard.

In the past, our area has had significant damage from a hurricane now and then. The brunt of Isaias came between 1:00 and 5:00 a.m., which made it a bit more unnerving. When these storms hit at night, which they often do, we make our normal preparations before going to bed. We put extra jugs of water in the fridge, locate the flashlights, and bring out our new battery with a USB port that allows us to charge our devices in the event we lose power. We make a nest of blankets and pillows in our bedroom closet, the safest space in our house with no windows. Then we try to get some sleep. Our phone alerts let us know when there are tornado or flash flood warnings.

The morning after these storms always brings such mixed emotions…first, dread before looking outside to see what damage our yard and our neighborhood may have sustained. Another wave of dread as we turn on the TV and hear about how our state fared. All things considered, Isaias was nowhere near the worst we’ve had, but it’s always heartbreaking to hear that there have been deaths. Two adults so far, killed in a twister that demolished a trailer park. The tornadoes that are spawned are often the most dangerous aspects of hurricanes. We were elated to hear that the two children who were initially missing in that area have been found. 

In strange juxtaposition, the day after hurricanes is always incredibly beautiful and calm here. The temperature and humidity are noticeably down, and the sky is a deep, deep blue, which has my hubby singing “Blue Skies” from the movie White Christmas. Often there are no clouds at all—today we have just a few bright white tufts. Everything appears so green after several inches of rain, an anomaly for us at this time of year. Relief settles in. We’ve gotten past this, and can get on with our lives again. It’s somehow a restorative and hopeful day.

Some years it feels like the storms of our lives won’t let up. This year has to rank as one of the most difficult for many because the challenges just keep piling up on one another, like the damaged boats at the docks and marinas on the news this morning.

Mental health issues keep piling up, too. Psychotherapists are warning about the impending tsunami of psychological effects that are yet to come. It’s too early to determine the extent of the problem, which is still mostly lurking under the surface since so many people are hunkered down at home. 

People across the globe are either suffering themselves (hopefully reaching out to others for help), or they’re trying to buoy the spirits of their struggling friends.

This blog has been one way I’ve been trying to help, but my larger project is an update to my book about what to expect from psychotherapy. In it, I remind people that therapy is a service, and I advocate for clients who, as consumers, can reap more out of the process if they’re informed about it. I’ve been working hard on the revamp this week and I feel an increasing sense of urgency about it.  I’ve renamed it to Need to Talk? Getting the Most From Therapy.

After reviewing a recent draft, a friend with a sister who has depression said she learned a lot from it, with the two overriding messages being that 1) there is always hope, and 2) you don’t have to be alone when you’re struggling. I was beyond pleased, because those are what I intended as the central takeaways. She said it gave her a clearer picture of her sister’s emotional suffering, which will allow her to be even more sensitive to her going forward.

In order to write a book, you have to have passion for your subject. By the time you’re finished, you just pray you’ve been able to achieve your objectives. You never really know, though, so feedback is critical. Beyond that, you just have to trust that each reader will get what they need.

To introduce each chapter, the book contains poetry written by people in treatment. Some of it is pretty raw. I’m grateful for their willingness to make themselves vulnerable enough to share their precious, private words. That they were willing to let me use them speaks to the courage of those who, having had success with “the talking cure,” want others to find the relief they’ve felt.

There are many factors that can support good mental health. Information is the key. Just like preparing for hurricanes, we need to be ready to encourage and support those who are a little beaten up after weathering 2020.

Whether it’s in person, or virtually, people need to talk about their experiences to make sense of them.

Hope, and the knowledge that we’re not alone, is what will get us through this.

Affectionately,

Elaine