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Let's give ourselves a hefty amount of grace for how we used our pandemic 'free' time

Adrian Swancar on Unsplash, Karen K. Ho/Twitter

Just over a year into the coronavirus pandemic, we're finally seeing a light at the end of our socially distanced tunnel. We still have a ways to go, but with millions of vaccines being doled out daily, we're well on our way toward somewhat normal life again. Hallelujah.

As we head toward that light, it's natural to look back over our shoulders at the past year to see what we're leaving behind. There's the "good riddance" stuff of course—the mass deaths, the missing loved ones, the closed-up businesses, the economic, social and political strife—which no one is going to miss.

But there's personal stuff, too. As we reflect on how we coped, how we spent our time, what we did and didn't do this past year, we're thinking about what we'll be bringing out of the tunnel with us.

And some of us are finding that comes with a decent dose of regret. Maybe a little guilt. Some disappointment as we go down the coulda-woulda-shoulda road.

When social distancing and stay-at-home orders were implemented, we were motivated. The reason we were doing it was bleak, but those of us not working on the front lines looked to the silver lining of having extra time. In some ways, that time felt like a gift. We were forced to slow down. We organized all the closets in our houses. We planted victory gardens. We picked up old hobbies or started new ones. We volunteered to sew masks. We played games and did puzzles with our families.

What we didn't know was that motivation couldn't last through an entire pandemic. And with lost motivation came the self-talk: "What's wrong with me?" and "I should be doing XYZ," and "I always wanted more time to [fill in the blank]. Now I have it and I'm not using it."

We look back at how we used our time and make hindsight wishes. We wish we had read the stack of books we'd wanted to read instead of binge-watching so many Netflix shows. We wish we'd worked out like we said we were going to instead of lounging around in our pajamas. We wish we'd cooked the healthy, from-scratch meals we'd pinned to our recipe board instead of eating all the junk food. We wish we'd used that foreign language learning app instead of doomscrolling on social media.

Some of us are adding parental guilt to the mix for the copious amounts of screen time our children have had. Others of us feel guilty because we were able to work from home and our families stayed healthy, so what do we have to complain about really?

It's easy to kick ourselves over any and all of these things. It's easy in hindsight to think we should have been able to do more than we did simply because we had time.

That's why It's vital to remind ourselves that this past year was not a vacation. It's not like we were just gifted extra hours in our day that we then squandered because we were lazy.

This year life was turned upside down and traumatic on a communal level, if not on a personal one. So many of us lost people, but even if we didn't, we bore witness to the single largest mass death event of our lifetimes. We worried about the people around us as well as ourselves as we survived a global pandemic. That alone is huge. But that wasn't even all of it.

We also dealt with the economic fallout of measures implemented to save lives and frustrating conspiracy theories about all of it. We also grappled with centuries of unaddressed oppression during a historic movement for racial justice. We also went through an incredibly turbulent election season that climaxed in a violent attack on our Capitol.

And we did all of that without our normal social supports, without our usual routines and rhythms, and without any precedent for how to cope with and manage all of this.

Seriously, we need to give ourselves an enormous amount of grace and let go of our hindsight regrets over some perceived lack of productivity or creativity or whateverivity. We've been in survival mode by necessity this past year.

As trauma psychologist Alaa Hijazi wrote earlier in the pandemic, when someone suggested that not using this time productively was some kind of moral failure:

"We are going through a collective trauma, that is bringing up profound grief, loss, panic over livelihoods, panic over loss of lives of loved ones. People's nervous systems are barely coping with the sense of threat and vigilance for safety, or alternating with feeling numb and frozen and shutting down in response to it all."

If you managed to thrive in some area or another, great. If you didn't—if all you did was make it through and care for yourself and your loved ones—more power to you.

Surviving this past year is an accomplishment, and it's enough. Anything above and beyond that is gravy.


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Well Being

You don't have to wait for an apology to forgive someone who hurt you

Photo by Karim MANJRA on Unsplash

Forgiveness is hard for most of us, but it's harder for some than others. When we've been harmed in some way—physically, emotionally, or both—we tend to carry the pain around with us. Anger and resentment are natural responses to being hurt, of course, and the longer or more severe the wounding, the more likely we are to feel those feelings long-term.

What we usually want—or think we want—is for the person who did the hurting to acknowledge our pain. We want them to fully understand what we feel, to know the impact of their words or actions. And we want an apology as proof that the person not only get, but also regrets, what they've said or done to us.

Some of us will hold onto our anger and resentment indefinitely, waiting for that all-important apology to come before we even consider the idea of forgiveness. But if we value our own well-being, we may want to rethink that order.

You don't have to wait for an apology—or even an acknowledgement—in order to forgive. And in fact, we shouldn't.

To fully understand why that is, we need to understand what forgiveness actually is. And in order to understand what forgiveness is, it's helpful to clarify what it isn't. Forgiving someone is not the same as making up with them. Forgiveness is not reconciliation. Forgiveness doesn't require justice to be done or apologies to be offered.

Forgiveness isn't an external action, but rather an internal state of letting go of anger and resentment. It's saying, "I'm no longer going to allow you and the hurt you've caused me keep me in a state of unhappiness." It's something you do for yourself, not for the person who hurt you.

Think about it. Who is that anger and resentment hurting the most? Who is having their life disrupted by it? Who is having to deal with it day in and day out? You, right? Not the person who hurt you. You.

And there are real physical effects of holding onto those emotions. "There is an enormous physical burden to being hurt and disappointed," says Karen Swartz, M.D., director of the Mood Disorders Adult Consultation Clinic at The Johns Hopkins Hospital. Chronic anger impacts your heart rate, blood pressure, and immune system, which increases your risk of chronic disease. Forgiveness has the opposite effect.

And it doesn't mean just saying that you forgive the person. Again, forgiveness is an internal act of releasing anger, frustration, disappointment, and resentment. "It is an active process in which you make a conscious decision to let go of negative feelings whether the person deserves it or not," Swartz says.

That's why an apology isn't necessary in order to practice forgiveness. We have to let go of the idea that forgiveness means telling someone what they did is okay or that they are somehow being let off the hook. It doesn't. It means telling yourself that whatever the person did to you isn't going to keep you in a state of bitterness. It's making the choice to stop allowing your own anger to keep hurting you.

Sometimes forgiveness can lead to empathy and compassion for the person who hurt you, but it doesn't have to. Some kinds of harm are impossible to empathize with, but that doesn't mean they make forgiveness impossible. There are some incredible stories of people forgiving perpetrators of terrible atrocities, like the genocide in Rwanda, not because those things were forgotten or justified but because holding onto resentment and anger only punishes the victim of harm, not the perpetrator.

So if you've been waiting on an apology, try forgiveness first. While it's easier said than done, letting go can be incredibly freeing, and good for both your mental and physical health.

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Dads, it's time to reassess how we're raising our kids — especially our boys.

Parents and carers, listen up:

The development of emotional literacy and intelligence is not a task we can outsource to a school system, youth group, or sports club.

This training is our task, our responsibility. It’s true home-work. An inside job.

I'm the father of two boys under 10, and someone who works professionally in the space of emotional intelligence. And even I have to admit it’s a challenge to give the gift of emotional intelligence. But it’s worth it.

Here are a few things I’m learning (and yes — I am still learning!). These are my ABCs.

Three basic things to remember:

A. Always model well.

My boys watch me, model me, and follow me. Whether it’s good, bad, or ugly, kids learn their emotional cues from their parents. My boys learn especially from me, as I'm the primary male in their life.

They watch how I treat their mum and how I welcome their friends when they come to visit. They watch how I discipline their siblings and how I handle stress. They pay attention to how I talk to others, treat others, and love others. They see me cry when I need. I’m a walking emotional classroom.

Parents, there’s no getting around this: your boys are watching.

So ...

Be self-aware. Be the change you wish to see in the world. Walk in love. Apologize quickly and sincerely. Sort your own crap out. Keep doing the heart journey. Be willing to back-track and explain your actions and reactions — right or wrong.

B. Believe your boys.

“I’m bored!” “I too tired!” “I can’t do it.” “I hate her!” “That hurts!” “It tastes yuck!” “I’m scared.”

Sound familiar? (Like, every day!).

If we respond with: “That doesn’t hurt.” “You’re not tired.” “You don’t hate her.” “Don’t be scared.” or “How can you be bored?” — how on earth can the boy learn to trust and label his own emotions?

It's no wonder we have so many shut down adult men who can’t put words to what they feel. Many were shamed for sharing feelings, and when they did share, they were told they were wrong.

So ...

Parents, we have to validate what our boys are sharing. Believe them when they share their emotions and feelings. It’s vital. Dads, we have to stop holding our sons to an impossible and destructive standard of masculinity (one that even we can't measure up to!). It’s not helping.

Respond by believing your boys. Use simple reflective listening skills by validating them in phrases like: “I can see you’re tired”, “You hate her, huh? Tell me why”, “That can be scary.”, ”I'm sorry you're feeling bored.” (Btw, it doesn’t mean you have to fix the problems. Just believe them first and see what happens).

C. Call out the gold in your boys.

I've spent years studying and teaching on the power of blessing across cultures. I can’t tell you the number of people I’ve cried with, prayed for, and given counsel to whose fathers totally sucked at the blessing of simple encouragement!

In fact, many fathers did the opposite of calling out the gold by calling out the problems, faults, and failings of their children. It’s incredibly traumatizing and irresponsible. It really pisses me off.

Boys whose dads are in their lives need their dads' unconditional love, approval, and acceptance. Think for a minute: how many movies contain a theme of a boy (or adult boy) looking for his father’s approval? So many! It’s hardwired into us and essential for emotional health and literacy.

So ...

Remember, blessing is not a reward for good behavior. Blessing is our right, as humans.

Like nurture, safety, and community, we NEED the good things in us called out by others. Drop the nitpicking and criticism, instead find some things that your boy likes, has a knack for, or is interested in and encourage him with words.

It could sound as simple as, “Man, you love soccer? That’s great!” or “You’re a kind young man, kinder than me. I’m proud of you, son," or “I know it’s not the mark you wanted, but I don’t care, I can see you’ve tried. I'll cheer you on no matter the outcome.”

Finally, let me add something that may help in your journey to teach emotional literacy.

This isn't about being an amazing, perfect, or super-fun, always-happy dad.

In my 14 years of parenting, I've learned that being a "good-enough" dad is the kindest and fairest standard to hold against myself and others.

If I'm a "good enough" dad, and I at least remember my ABCs, then I’m well on my way to gifting my children with the emotional literacy they need to move forward into the world of adolescence and adulthood.

This story originally appeared on davidtensen.com and is reprinted here with permission.

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There’s a surprising science behind making friends, and this psychologist is teaching it.

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UCLA Optimists

Imagine if someone jumped into your conversation at a party without an introduction, interrupting you mid-sentence.

That might strike you as odd or rude. But when we give someone the simple advice to "just go up and introduce yourself," we're skipping many of the nonverbal steps important to making a good impression.

For most, connecting with other people relies on intuition. However,social interactions of all sorts — from just saying "hello" to a new acquaintance to interviewing for a new job — can be challenging. For people with autism, it can be even more difficult to know how to strike up that first conversation.

Image via iStock.

That’s why UCLA psychologist Dr. Elizabeth Laugeson made it her mission to help.

Through her work at the Semel Institute and her work with Fred Frankel in 2005, she created a program that helps young adults with social challenges, such as those on the autism spectrum, make and keep friends by breaking down social interactions into easy-to-follow steps.

This program, called the Program for the Education and Enrichment of Relational Skills (PEERS), teaches them how tolisten, interact, and communicate with others.  

Photo from UCLA PEERS via AP.

"We want to teach to the way that [people with autism] think. What works? Concrete rules and steps," Laugeson explains.

Most people pick up on social cues, like body language and facial expressions, quite naturally. But many people with autism struggle with abstract thinking. Concrete communication works best for many, according to the Indiana Research Center for Autism.

That's why, Laugeson explains, the first step is actually about learning to listen before jumping in.

"The first step is that you’d watch the conversation and kind of listen to the conversation," she explains.

Image via iStock.

Some of us might use a prop, like a cellphone, to look distracted while listening to a conversation we’re thinking about joining. We’ll spend this time eavesdropping for a common interest.

Next, we might move closer to the conversation, waiting for a pause to jump in with something on topic. Of course, this process involves assessing whether the person or group is interested in talking to us.

Introductions usually don’t come until mid-conversation, Laugeson says. This is why "just go up and say hello" may not the best advice, especially for people who struggle to pick up on subtle cues.

There are social nuances that go beyond first interactions, too, and the curriculum at PEERS addresses many of them.

UCLA PEERS also teaches students how to deal with conflict and bullying, for example.

Individuals with autism are especially vulnerable to bullying. The Interactive Autism Network found in a study that 63% of children ages 6 to 15 with autism spectrum disorder have experienced bullying.

Image via iStock.

This is another area where neurotypical people may give ineffective advice. People usually suggest dealing with teasing in one of three ways: ignore the bully, walk away, or tell an adult. But these strategies don’t always work, Laugeson says.

"These responses often make it worse for the victim and not better," she explains.

During a bullying situation, a neurotypical person will usually respond with a short, dismissive comeback. A casual "whatever" or "Is that supposed to be funny?" can make the aggressor’s comments seem boring.

This is a great way to show the ability to stand up for one’s self while diffusing the situation and avoiding more confrontation. Laugeson teaches this tactic in PEERS to her students, helping them deal with teasing in a way others might naturally react.

Image via iStock.

These are just a few ways that PEERS helps students who struggle socially.

Since 2005, PEERS has expanded from UCLA to locations across the country and throughout the world.

The PEERS method can also help preschoolers, adolescents, and young adults with ADHD, anxiety, depression, and other socio-emotional problems too.

And it’s more accessible than ever, thanks to her book, "The Science of Making Friends," and an app called FriendMaker, which acts as a virtual coach for social situations and includes role-playing exercises for making and keeping friends.

Friendship is a critical part of mental health, though it’s easy to take this for granted.

This is why programs like UCLA PEERS are so important, particularly for individuals who can't easily navigate social situations.

According to the Mayo Clinic, friendships can boost happiness, encourage a healthy lifestyle, reduce stress, improve self-confidence, help in coping with trauma, and much more.

Laugeson teaching social skills at a PEERS group. Image from UCLA PEERS via AP.

Laugeson shared a story of a student who had been in and out of psychiatric units with a long history of mental health issues. The young man had tried many medications by the time he joined PEERS.

"This was a kid who had been highly medicated over the years. He came to me at graduation and he told me friendship was the best medicine for him," Laugeson recounted. "It absolutely can change a life to have a friend."

PEERS has helped numerous students like him, not only in making friends, but in attending college, getting jobs, and even embarking on romantic relationships.

For the past 12 years, the skills taught at PEERS have helped improve the lives of thousands of people all over the world. For a skill set that’s so rarely taught, it’s transformative to make the art of friendship a little more accessible for those who need it.

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