Getting out of limbo 

It is C+16 since my world changed and I find myself in limbo. 

Pardon me if you don’t understand my lingo. Coincidentally, I am reading “Seveneves” by Neal Stephenson, a story about a BIG world change, the destruction of the Earth due to an Agent that breaks up the moon into little pieces. The science is over my head, but everyone has time to prepare for the end of the world because there is a lag between the moon break up and the Earth’s destruction. The characters in the book decide it’s time to establish a new calendar, and AD and CE are gone, replaced by A (for Agent), plus the number of days since the Agent hit the moon. 

Today, it’s March 29, 2020 – 16 days from when my kids were ordered not to school and we were all instructed not to leave our homes unless absolutely necessary. So, it’s C+16 (C for COVID) since the Global Pandemic changed my world and the world of most of us. The impact of COVID seeped in as the endless emails that notified us of the new normal rolled across my screen. And while I fear there may be more to come (no thanks, in small part, to the endless bad news that continues to dominate all screens) at C+16, it feels like the significant impact has happened, and I am living my new normal. 

That…was…fast. As I stood in line at my local grocery store yesterday (the requisite two metres apart as the stickers on the floor guided me) and observed the masked cashiers, I had a bit of an out-of-body experience. Suddenly, I was a character from one of the endless dystopian books I have read and continue to read. 

When I got up to the cashier, I smiled at her as she looked utterly frazzled. I asked her how she was doing, “Not as good as thirty minutes ago when I started my shift.” She was an older woman who told me she had just returned to work after being off for four months due to a shoulder injury. Her grown children were mad at her for returning, but as she explained, she had no choice. I packed my bags so she wouldn’t have to and tried to channel deep breathing thoughts and calm to her, but I knew that they likely weren’t much use as the line for the cashier was long, it wound its way around the entire store. I also knew my chest was feeling tight, so I was more likely channelling stress to the cashier. I thanked her and told her to take care and left the store. 

I came home and washed all my purchases and myself, and then, with my dinner-making aid (my rum and coke), I continued to make dinner for my kids and me. 

I called my sister on Facetime, and the kids set up online MarioKart, and they raced (to be precise – my sister and niece, in another town race against my kids, thanks to online Nintendo). At the same time, dinner got to the point it could finish making itself, and I moved over to my computer to tackle some work from a happier place (yes, with a slight buzz on and with headphones channelling pure teen pop as it’s cheeriness helps when wading through uncheery emails and it also blocks out ambient MarioKart).

By the way, don’t worry about me; my new normal was well thought out, and I’m keeping my drinking to my standard “one a day except on the occassional Friday.” 

I’ve set up a routine to deal with my new normal. It’s not particularly a routine I would “normally” choose, but it gets me through the day so I am able to do it again the next day. That’s as much as I know about what is going to happen next while in Pandemic Limbo. Another day is coming for now and I’m not sure what will come in a couple of weeks, but I’m going to keep myself as mentally sane as possible so I’ll be able to adapt into a new normal when we figure out what it is. 

7:30 AM. I wake up, and so does my youngest. 

We go to the kitchen, and I remind him to feed the cat and empty the dishwasher (he’s almost got this routine down). 

He begs me to play the Nintendo Switch, and I say, “NO, read your book until after breakfast.” And he does. 

I make and drink my one coffee of the day. It’s a new normal. I used to drink two cups (otherwise known as an entire French press), but my second coffee no longer tastes good, and it does something to my chest—is that anxiety or COVID-19? Whatever it is, that second coffee is out. 

Then Switch time starts. At some point, my teenager drifts into the kitchen/den/MY OFFICE and gets himself breakfast. He then advises his brother on Zelda until he gets handed the controls. Hey, the schedules I made them adhere to for the first three days have worked—they now know how many Switch hours there are in a day, and they share the controls accordingly. 

At 11:15, my youngest says, “I’m hungry” (it’s uncanny – same time every day), and I get up from my workstation and go to my other workstation and start washing dishes and prepping lunch. 

I say, “We are going for a bike ride/run/outside after lunch.” My kids protest or ignore me. 

We eat lunch. 

We argue about what to do next. Somewhere between the hours of 1 and 4 (when happy hours start these days—okay, maybe that is not quite the same as before), I get the kids outside, I connect with my friends and family over the phone, and I do some more work. My carefully planned work schedule has flown out the window, and I’m working in triage mode to help my neediest clients first. 

Then it’s happy hour, dinner, after-dinner Switch/work time, storytime, and bedtime at 9 PM, and the day is over, only to repeat it the next day Groundhog Day style. Yes, I make my teenager attend storytime – we are making our way through Narnia again. We read it so long ago it’s like new. Storytime is one of the highlights of my day, and I have told my teenager in no uncertain terms that if he wants Switch time, he has to endure storytime and outside time. He is almost convinced.

That is my day, which has been my day for the last 16 days (minus the kids for some days as they were with their dad – hallelujah). 

Some of you might be going – “must be nice,” and others might be going, “I don’t think I could do that for 16 days in a row…”

That’s because it’s my schedule, and I built it after knowing all my constraints and what I was willing to live with and not live with. 

As I created my pandemic limbo schedule, it reminded me of my separation process, and I realized that, hey, I’ve lived through the end of a world before.  

When I was newly separated, I had a schedule that got me through my interim period – that time between when you and your spouse decide to separate and that time when you’ve figured out your new lives in two homes.  I was, what I like to call, on mom auto-pilot. My kids were young – seven and four. I took care of them, and when they were with their dad, I cried, took long baths, and phoned my friend Barb for therapy (because I couldn’t afford therapy, or so I thought). During that time, I cursed the world, and I cursed my spouse for throwing me into a “interim period” that I had no control over. 

I drifted around for a year, blown around like a leaf, at the whims of family law, my emotions, my spouse, and my kids. My separation process lasted almost exactly a year, which at the time was an eternity. Then, I began my “new normal” as a divorced mom of a seven and a four-year-old boy. I continued to have day-long cry fests after dropping my kids off at their dad’s for his parenting time. I continued to have conflicts with my ex. My day would start with me dragging myself from bed to do whatever I needed to do to survive (and ensure my kids survived), but I was miserable.

Then, one day, about six months post-divorce, I had a breakdown – or perhaps it was an epiphany. But that day, I decided I was not going to go about my days the way that I had been, anymore. 

It took longer the first time I did it, but I created a new normal.

First, I learned how to deal with constraints, the biggest one being my emotional state. I realized that my thoughts about the unaffordability of therapy were costing me more than the actual cost of therapy, so I hired the coach who had helped me in the past.

With my coach’s help, I began to learn to deal with emotional state that had been holding me back and we began co-creating a new normal.

And while I was developing my new normal, I realized something else. What I was doing was building resilience.  I was learning to successfully adapt to difficult or challenging life experiences.

I learned how to take care of myself better and by default, my kids through the separation days, the divorce days, and now the C+ days. 

And because I’m not sure if I’ve made my point yet (yes, my stories are endless), the separation process days were horrid, as I was being blown around by some outside force that I had no control over. And the C+ days are horrid, and I have no control over them… and I’m going to be okay.

Recently, I spoke with a friend going through major life transitions. Like many of us, she and her family are stressed.

The current situation

My friend is in her late 40s with two children under 11. Her husband, also in his late 40s, recently quit his job. He realized it was not the right fit, and he knew that, soon, his employers would start looking for someone who was a better fit. He wanted to take control of his life.

While he quit his job to maintain postive mental health, his search for a new job is ongoing and he is having a hard time not getting discouraged. Their youngest child just started at a new school and needs more support. Their oldest daughter is gifted and is going to an expensive private school.

My friend has spent the last year training herself for a new profession only to discover that the expected professional job market isn’t there.

With all this happening, they have used up their emergency funds. It’s time to decide whether to take on more debt or start taking money out of their retirement fund.

My friend started our conversation by stating her husband is sleeping a lot.

Oversleeping is a classic sign of depression.

It all sounds stressful

Getting rejected day after day by potential employers for jobs he has convinced himself would be exciting, he’s now applying for jobs in other Provinces. Adding an cross-country move into the mix will add even more stress to their lives. And what if the job didn’t work out?

Meanwhile, the family has been focused on getting through their days with little thought to planning and aligning goals with values, as that is hard to do, in the middle of the extreme pressure this family is currently under.

Uncomfortable feedback

My friend asked what I thought.

I acknowledged that yes, they did indeed seem to have an unfair share of stress in their lives right now.

I asked her what she thought about making such life changing decisions when they are suffering from stress.

She got quiet and said “I think it’s is going to get worse before it gets better.”

Do things only get better when they can’t get any worse?

I sat with my friend and we pondered her rather bleak comment.

Was it only by hitting the proverbial wall that she and her husband would find the fortitude to push through to a way forward? What if crashing into that wall meant they couldn’t move forward at all?

I asked my friend if there was a way for them to get some breathing room into their lives so they could slow down their decision making to find a more sustainable path forward.

She just looked at me and said,

“well, we may be able to dip into retirement savings – that might buy us some time.”

I think she expected me to argue with her – dip into retirement savings! What kind of financial planner would support that strategy?

Instead, I said – let’s look at your big picture financial situation – maybe there is a way, after all.

What are your rules for a successful life? And how did you develop the rules you follow?

I frequently ask myself that question, as most of my life, I followed a set of rules that I seemed to have absorbed from the air around me. Only within the last ten years did I begin designing the life I want to live. The path I follow changes as I gather experience and self-awareness.

I’ve recently developed a new life rule: I will only work on Collaborative Divorce files that utilize a divorce coach and use an equitable, inclusive and team-based approach.

A Collaborative Divorce is a process guiding participants toward a happier life. While participants often think the overriding goal of the Collaborative Process is to avoid court, the actual design behind it is to support individuals and families as they navigate a challenging life transition to live happier lives. And, if parents, they can co-parent more effectively in the future. The Collaborative Process requires each party to sign a Participation Agreement promising to stay out of the court system because it is impossible to have equitable and inclusive planning sessions with threats of court looming over everyone’s head. The couple does not need to know how to collaborate; the process helps those in conflict by providing structure to help couples minimize conflict while navigating their separation process.

I work as a Financial Neutral in Collaborative Divorce, a journey inspired by my own experience with separation and divorce. I help individuals and families get the financial clarity they need to make the best financial choices for their future.

Pre-separation, my path meandered from science to accounting, yet unhappiness persisted. I landed in a finance job that paid well but left me unfulfilled. Eventually, my husband and I realized our unhappiness and tried various solutions but decided divorce was the only option. We entered the world of Collaborative Divorce, which transformed our lives.

After our divorce and using the glimmer of hope I got from my divorce coach, I embarked on helping others navigate difficult life transitions.

Fast forward ten years, and I’ve conquered my habit of reacting to life and external influences. I commit to only work on Collaborative Divorce cases that incorporate a divorce coach. I want to use my life experiences to support my family, friends, and clients in the best way possible, and this is my way of doing so.