What I write is based on my personal experience, and I share it with the hope that I may help others by showing how I manage mental health crises. I am not a licensed mental health professional, and if you or somebody you love is experiencing a mental health emergency, dial 911 or call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-TALK (800-273-8255).
For the last few weeks, I’ve been taking long walks at dawn. These long walks have become opportunities to observe my thoughts and emotions and be mindful of my surroundings. Depending on the day, these walks take on the flavor of distress tolerance, and there is a correlation between my mental state and the distance I cover: the more agitated, anxious, or fearful I feel, the longer (and often faster) I walk.
This morning I walked for over two hours. It all began pleasantly enough. Armed with a sunny day and a positive attitude, I stood at the river and enjoyed the quiet sound of the water and the first rays of sunshine. I was mindful of the moment: the brightness, the colors, the textures.
But then I started worrying about…everything…and the moment was ruined (or so I thought; more on that later). In an attempt to push it aside and enjoy the present moment, I called to mind It’ll Be Alright by Oystein Baadsvik, performed here by the fabulous Dave Werden on euphonium. The composer describes his inspiration and the title this way:
I was enjoying my morning coffee on a beautiful sunny day, looking out at a lake, mountains, and the sunrise. I was filled with peace and calm. But soon the worries of the day started to intrude! Gradually I regained my calm and just appreciated the beauty.
It’s a beautiful song, and I could hear Dave’s lovely tone as I called it to mind. It was a moment of pure mindful musical success as I regained my calm and appreciated the beauty I was seeing. Great. Marvelous. On I walked.
But it wasn’t a “success,” because “success” isn’t what mindfulness is about. Our culture believes mindfulness is supposed to make us calm (there’s even a popular app called “Calm”), but shoving difficult emotions aside and being “mindful” of only the lovely and pleasant things isn’t true mindfulness. It’s denial, and denial can be dangerous when we are actively choosing to be mindless about thoughts and feelings that make us uncomfortable.
The lovely moment faded as the “worries of the day,” to use Baadsvik’s phrase, intruded again. When my worries were “how do I help my child stop harming herself when she’s upset?” and “will I ever hug my friends again?” and “will I ever see my friends again?” and “will I ever perform a concert again, or sit it an audience?”, attempting to shove my feelings aside only made them worse. Add viewing an upsetting headline in a Star Tribune vending machine and finding a Little Free Library book that reminded me of a 14-year old trauma I’m still dealing with, and I was in full-blown crisis mode by the 75-minute mark. I was walking as fast as I could in order to bring my distress down and prevent a total meltdown.
Some psychologists call what I was experiencing a “wave,” and research into our most distressing emotions has found that these waves peak at 16 minutes and then rapidly crash. I kept telling myself to “ride the wave,” and indeed, it eventually peaked and then rapidly crashed. At this point I was able to remind myself that mindfulness means everything, and shaming myself for failing to achieve mindful bliss was only making things worse.
So I walked very slowly through a small orchard near our house, stood next to an apple tree, observed every thought and feeling I could find–the good, the bad, and the ugly–and allowed myself to cry. I started for home, and Baadsvik’s piece came back to me with greater substance than before. Indeed it will be alright, not because I can shove my feelings aside and regain my calm, but because, as Mr. Rogers repeatedly stated throughout his life, anything mentionable is manageable. To be mindful enough to mention our pain, whether aloud or internally, and to really feel the challenging emotions without shame or judgment, allows us to manage them in ways we can’t if we shove them aside.
With that new frame, I listened to the song in my head again as I walked home. I can’t say the day has been amazing since then, but it’s been manageable. And in the face of emotional crisis, manageable is worth celebrating.
Here’s It’ll Be Alright again. Be well, all.
Brian De Young 