I struggle waking up each morning. I have never been a morning person, but since Covid, mornings are sharper and more painful. I’ve long known that I am a better person when I wake up at 6:00 AM in the morning, but the sharper edge to mornings recently leaves me wanting to understand more about why, and possibly do some work on whatever is grinding on me—hence this post.
I know the source of my anxiety. I just don’t know how to release myself from its grip. So I am hoping to write my way through these memories, and reprogram them to have softer edges. Their origins took root each day during Covid. Isaiah had passed away in the first year, and as we worked through our grief and through Covid, the responsibility and pressure on me grew in my job as my team grew in size, and my calendar took over my day from 6:00 AM to 6:00 PM—-leaving me struggling to keep up, and maintain my sanity.
Back then we got up at 5:00 am and walked around Lake Merritt in Oakland, CA, and got back to my desk showered and ready to go by 6:30 AM, sometimes earlier when needed. Then my day would march forward from there without much relief. Often times Audrey would bring me a bagel for breakfast and some lunch, because my calendar was back to back and non-stop throughout the day. I had 15 direct reports so my weekly 1:1s dominated, with podcast, client calls, leadership, and other meetings filling my day. With the rare break in between.
I wasn’t the only one struggling. Most people on my team were having a personal crisis, and there was mental health issues to go around. I remember crawling off the couch where I lay in the fetal position in the rare 30 minute break in between calls one time, to have one of my millenial employees tell me there was no way I’d understand their mental health challenges. I was too successful and outgoing to understand what they faced. 1) stand in line, you aren’t the only one on my team, 2) I had just spent 30 minutes in fetal position on couch in deep anxiety pain.
And we weren’t even touching on what my wife was going through after losing her son. This was just me dealing with my shit, and trying to be there for my wife. It is always interesting when people lecture me on their mental health struggles, and how I wouldn’t understand because I unlike them, seem to be moving forward. I keep moving despite my anxiety. I get up each day and take my anxiety head on. I use it for fuel. Day after day. Once my day gets going I am fine. It is those first 2-3 hours from 6:00 AM to 9:00 AM that are the hardest.
As I write this I can see each of those days sandwiched in between the layers of each day during Covid. I have relieved some of the pressure of the vice on my existence over the last year. Now I just need to sort through the layers and sweep out some of that anxietal dust from within the cracks to make for a more comfortable state. I feel like we’ve done so much work since 2020. This feels like simple housekeeping compared to the work Audrey and I have done. However, I am hoping this housekeeping will result in some easier mornings moving forward.
