Dear Fabulous Traveler ,

There is one impediment to mental clarity that could jeopardize all the work we’ve done together to improve your mental fitness: stress.

Effects of Stress

What’s the first thought that crosses your mind when you jump in the shower? Whatever it is, it’s the most pressing thought in your head. When you’re relaxed and happy, these thoughts are creative: new ideas to get things done, plans and projects. When there is something troubling you, these thoughts weaken your resolve and make you feel unwell. This is what happens when you’re stressed.

Whenever we are under some form of stress, it can seem to cast a shadow over our entire lives. Imagine engaging in a heated argument with a family member. After the argument, you find yourself reliving and analyzing the debate in your head throughout the day. You become less productive, unable to enjoy yourself, and your overall mental fitness is inhibited.

Stress can be useful for short periods of time, for example when you are working towards a deadline. But when you stay stressed for extended periods, and the same thought crawls back into your mind whenever you find yourself unoccupied, you can soon find yourself facing chronic anxiety or even depression.

You simply cannot get any good work done if something is filling up your mind in this way, taking over the space you need for creative thinking.

Dealing with Stress

One of the best ways to deal with stress is to learn about other people's experiences. Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, is someone we particularly appreciate. In 2015, while she was vacationing in Mexico with her husband Dave Goldberg, the CEO of SurveyMonkey, he fell while exercising, hit his head, and tragically lost his life.

She experienced a profound period of hardship, but at the same time, she was willing to share this emotion in order to help other people by posting the following on Facebook:

‘Today is the end of sheloshim for my beloved husband—the first thirty days. Judaism calls for a period of intense mourning known as shiva that lasts seven days after a loved one is buried. After shiva, most normal activities can be resumed, but it is the end of sheloshim that marks the completion of religious mourning for a spouse.

A childhood friend of mine who is now a rabbi recently told me that the most powerful one-line prayer he has ever read is: “Let me not die while I am still alive.” I would have never understood that prayer before losing Dave. Now I do.

I think when tragedy occurs, it presents a choice. You can give in to the void, the emptiness that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or even breathe. Or you can try to find meaning. These past thirty days, I have spent many of my moments lost in that void. And I know that many future moments will be consumed by the vast emptiness as well.

But when I can, I want to choose life and meaning.

And this is why I am writing: to mark the end of sheloshim and to give back some of what others have given to me. While the experience of grief is profoundly personal, the bravery of those who have shared their own experiences has helped pull me through. Some who opened their hearts were my closest friends. Others were total strangers who have shared wisdom and advice publicly. So I am sharing what I have learned in the hope that it helps someone else. In the hope that there can be some meaning from this tragedy.

I have lived thirty years in these thirty days. I am thirty years sadder. I feel like I am thirty years wiser.

I have gained a more profound understanding of what it is to be a mother, both through the depth of the agony I feel when my children scream and cry and from the connection my mother has to my pain. She has tried to fill the empty space in my bed, holding me each night until I cry myself to sleep. She has fought to hold back her own tears to make room for mine. She has explained to me that the anguish I am feeling is both my own and my children’s, and I understood that she was right as I saw the pain in her own eyes.

I have learned that I never really knew what to say to others in need. I think I got this all wrong before; I tried to assure people that it would be okay, thinking that hope was the most comforting thing I could offer. A friend of mine with late-stage cancer told me that the worst thing people could say to him was “It is going to be okay.” That voice in his head would scream, How do you know it is going to be okay? Do you not understand that I might die? I learned this past month what he was trying to teach me. Real empathy is sometimes not insisting that it will be okay but acknowledging that it is not. When people say to me, “You and your children will find happiness again,” my heart tells me, Yes, I believe that, but I know I will never feel pure joy again. Those who have said, “You will find a new normal, but it will never be as good” comfort me more because they know and speak the truth. Even a simple “How are you?”—almost always asked with the best of intentions—is better replaced with “How are you today?” When I am asked “How are you?” I stop myself from shouting, My husband died a month ago, how do you think I am? When I hear “How are you today?” I realize the person knows that the best I can do right now is to get through each day.

I have learned some practical stuff that matters. Although we now know that Dave died immediately, I didn’t know that in the ambulance. The trip to the hospital was unbearably slow. I still hate every car that did not move to the side, every person who cared more about arriving at their destination a few minutes earlier than making room for us to pass. I have noticed this while driving in many countries and cities. Let’s all move out of the way. Someone’s parent or partner or child might depend on it.

I have learned how ephemeral everything can feel—and maybe everything is. That whatever rug you are standing on can be pulled right out from under you with absolutely no warning. In the last thirty days, I have heard from too many women who lost a spouse and then had multiple rugs pulled out from under them. Some lack support networks and struggle alone as they face emotional distress and financial insecurity. It seems so wrong to me that we abandon these women and their families when they are in greatest need.

I have learned to ask for help—and I have learned how much help I need. Until now, I have been the older sister, the COO, the doer and the planner. I did not plan this, and when it happened, I was not capable of doing much of anything. Those closest to me took over. They planned. They arranged. They told me where to sit and reminded me to eat. They are still doing so much to support me and my children.

I have learned that resilience can be learned. Adam M. Grant taught me that three things are critical to resilience and that I can work on all three. Personalization—realizing it is not my fault. He told me to ban the word “sorry.” To tell myself over and over, This is not my fault. Permanence—remembering that I won’t feel like this forever. This will get better. Pervasiveness—this does not have to affect every area of my life; the ability to compartmentalize is healthy.

For me, starting the transition back to work has been a savior, a chance to feel useful and connected. But I quickly discovered that even those connections had changed. Many of my co-workers had a look of fear in their eyes as I approached. I knew why—they wanted to help but weren’t sure how. Should I mention it? Should I not mention it? If I mention it, what the hell do I say? I realized that to restore that closeness with my colleagues that has always been so important to me, I needed to let them in. And that meant being more open and vulnerable than I ever wanted to be. I told those I work with most closely that they could ask me their honest questions and I would answer. I also said it was okay for them to talk about how they felt. One colleague admitted she’d been driving by my house frequently, not sure if she should come in. Another said he was paralyzed when I was around, worried he might say the wrong thing. Speaking openly replaced the fear of doing and saying the wrong thing. One of my favorite cartoons of all time has an elephant in a room answering the phone, saying, “It’s the elephant.” Once I addressed the elephant, we were able to kick him out of the room.

At the same time, there are moments when I can’t let people in. I went to Portfolio Night at school where kids show their parents around the classroom to look at their work hung on the walls. So many of the parents—all of whom have been so kind—tried to make eye contact or say something they thought would be comforting. I looked down the entire time so no one could catch my eye for fear of breaking down. I hope they understood.

I have learned gratitude. Real gratitude for the things I took for granted before—like life. As heartbroken as I am, I look at my children each day and rejoice that they are alive. I appreciate every smile, every hug. I no longer take each day for granted. When a friend told me that he hates birthdays and so he was not celebrating his, I looked at him and said through tears, “Celebrate your birthday, goddammit. You are lucky to have each one.” My next birthday will be depressing as hell, but I am determined to celebrate it in my heart more than I have ever celebrated a birthday before.

I am truly grateful to the many who have offered their sympathy. A colleague told me that his wife, whom I have never met, decided to show her support by going back to school to get her degree—something she had been putting off for years. Yes! When the circumstances allow, I believe as much as ever in leaning in. And so many men—from those I know well to those I will likely never know—are honoring Dave’s life by spending more time with their families.

I can’t even express the gratitude I feel to my family and friends who have done so much and reassured me that they will continue to be there. In the brutal moments when I am overtaken by the void, when the months and years stretch out in front of me endless and empty, only their faces pull me out of the isolation and fear. My appreciation for them knows no bounds.

I was talking to one of these friends about a father-child activity that Dave is not here to do. We came up with a plan to fill in for Dave. I cried to him, “But I want Dave. I want option A.” He put his arm around me and said, “Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the shit out of option B.”

Dave, to honor your memory and raise your children as they deserve to be raised, I promise to do all I can to kick the shit out of option B. And even though sheloshim has ended, I still mourn for option A. I will always mourn for option A. As Bono sang, “There is no end to grief . . . and there is no end to love.” I love you, Dave.’

Sheryl has shared some great advice on how to cope with grief, but this also can be used to cope with any form of stress.

This Week’s Plan

Let’s spend this week coming to terms with the things that are causing us stress so that we can free our mind from worry and facilitate fresh and lucid thought.

Your one-time action

List your 3 most frequently recurring stressful thoughts and why they’re not worth stressing about in your Mental Fitness notebook.

If you’re feeling depressed, you can use the Fabulous Uplifting Training or the Compassion Meditation.

If you’re feeling unmotivated, listen to the Fresh Start Training.

Your goal

Each morning for the next 5 days, take a moment to sit and do nothing but breathe. Sit still and don’t try to think of anything, but also don’t try to suppress your thoughts. Listen to the wind of your thoughts as they blow across your consciousness.

Observe these thoughts. Is there one thought that sits in your mind like a raincloud  refusing to clear? Write down the stressful thought and answer these two questions.

1. Is this stressful thought something I can attend to?

If so, write out a plan for how you will take action today to clear away this stormcloud that’s taking up space in your mind.

  2. Is this stressful thought something I have no control over?

If so, do your best to accept it and find consolation in the fact that this thing is beyond your control.

For example: If you are stressed by a project that’s due soon, write out a plan for how you get it done today so that it can no longer haunt your thoughts.

At the end of the week, listen to the Compassion Meditation. It will take about 15 minutes.

Are you ready?

What We Are Doing

No matter how smart you are, how knowledgeable, hard working, or creative, you will not be able to reach your full potential if you are being weighed down by stress. Learning to either let go or cope with the natural sources of stress in our lives is an essential skill when attempting to maximize our Mental Fitness.

Learn to let go this next week Fabulous Traveler, and to use your friends and family as sources of strength when dealing with stress.

Until next time,