Thanksgiving, Holiday Depression and “Safety Third”
Hello, and welcome to TEA of Life Podcast. I am your host, Tiffany Thompson, and I know that it’s been a hot minute since you’ve heard from me. My official excuse is that I’ve been taking a bit of time off in order to reflect and consider how I want to move forward with this podcast.
Next week, I’m gonna talk a little about some very small changes I want to make with the podcast, so make sure you tune in and let me know what you think about it.
But, this week, I wanna know what you are doing for Thanksgiving. I am hearing that there are some places that aren’t allowing people to gather in groups of more than 10 people. Is this in your area, or do you have a similar but different mandate that your authorities are trying to implement? If so, what?
And, if you do have this or another mandate in your area, are you planning on following it, or are you gonna ignore it and do what you want anyway?
I’m guessing that some of you could be using this Thanksgiving gathering mandate or maybe even COVID in general, to not get together with your family for Thanksgiving or at all, and that’s OK too.
You know who you are. You’re the ones who welcomed the permission to NOT have to see anyone, and you’ve probably used this um, quote/unquote excuse for the past 8 months, haven’t you? Wink, wink…
So, just curious…and on another note…what kinds of foods do you usually like to eat for Thanksgiving? Are you more of a traditional foodie or do you like to do things a little differently? Do you usually cook at home, or does your family go out to eat?
When I was a kid growing up, we did a few different things throughout the years. When I was younger, we would gather at a family farm in south GA, where we got to run all over the place, play in the barn loft, chase the pigs and pet the goats. It was a lot of fun, but I don’t think that I realized that and how lucky I was to get to do that at the time. Oh, how I would love to be able to do that now! I would love to live on a tiny farm, and even more, have Thanksgiving on a farm.
Then, when I was a bit older, we would go out to eat. I can’t remember the names of the restaurants, but they were always open on Thanksgiving, and they would serve the traditional Thanksgiving meals. Looking back, I think those were probably my least favorite Thanksgiving meals. I mean, no leftovers, but we would always leave the restaurant and go walk on the beach and then go shopping wherever a store was open. That was fun back then, but I don’t think I’d enjoy that much now. Well, not the shopping part anyway. I’d love to go walk on the beach though.
Since we’ve had children, we usually have Thanksgiving at our house, but this year, I think we’re gonna go hang out with our friends at their house, and I’m looking forward to it! Don’t worry! We will still keep our distance and make sure we’re safe. Wink, wink…
Yeah, you know that’s not true at all.
No matter what you do for Thanksgiving this year, I hope and pray that it is amazing and memorable. I am praying that these upcoming holidays are blissful and relaxing. Lord knows, we need it, am I right?
No matter where you find yourself this Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any other time of the year, if you find yourself by yourself, know that you are not really alone. Millions of people are in your exact shoes and find themselves exactly where you are right now.
Know that if you find yourself celebrating with family, you’re not alone, or if you find yourself by yourself, curled up in a corner crying your eyes out. You’re still not alone. Sadly, there will be many people probably doing that very same thing during the holidays. Heck! There are normal days throughout the year that I find myself doing it.
The holidays can be lonely for some on a regular or normal year; not just during the year of a world-wide pandemic, but this pandemic can make it even worse, especially when some authorities want to induce mandates and make it even worse for us.
Depression is real, and I have shared in previous episodes that I deal with depression. I know my triggers, and I know that the high of these holidays that we’re in right now usually keep me going on a high, but as soon as everything is over…I’m talking like Christmas Day evening, I start to feel really sad, and I tend to go into a dark place if I’m not careful. I am like that with any event though. As long as I am in the planning stage, I am good, but the moment the event is over, I am instantly sad…sometimes extremely sad, and I feel like I have nothing else to look forward to. If I am busy and planning something exciting, I am usually in a good place, but once it’s over, I am not.
I recognize this in myself, so I have to prepare myself for the letdown, and as soon as I start to feel it, I have to continue to talk my way out of it. I have learned to share what I am feeling with my husband and other safe people around me. Sometimes, I have to just wait it out until it goes away and just make sure I seek out the things that I love, even if it’s just drinking a fountain coke from a straw. and always make sure that I stay connected to and purposefully surround myself with safe people, and sometimes, I can counteract it by finding something else to look forward to. Although, I think that could be slightly dangerous as well.
I don’t always think that’s the best way either because if I am always looking forward to that next thing, it’s like I’m on a hunt for my next high. It also means that I am not always present in the present, and I’m wishing for the future to come faster.
One thing that COVID has made me do is actually start to enjoy my down-time. I am learning to just live moment-by-moment and not always look toward what’s next. It’s been a hard journey, just like I’m sure it has been for you too, but I try to welcome the results. I am learning to just live in the moment, and I’m actually starting to see myself enjoy it more.
I read this article yesterday, written by Mike Rowe, and I kinda thought it related to what I wanted to talk about today, and I want to share it with you. Please let me know in the comments if this article spoke to you or what you thought about it.
So, you know who Mike Rowe is, right? Well, if you’ve been living under a rock and don’t, he is a TV host, writer, narrator, producer, actor and spokesman. He is known for his work on the Discovery Channel series called Dirty Jobs, Deadliest Catch, and After the Catch. He is also a brand new author of a book called The Way I Heard It which is on sale now. He is also a host of a podcast, also called The Way I Heard it with Mike Rowe, where he tells all kinds of stories from pop-culture to politics and Hollywood to history. His website says that his podcast is “a series of short mysteries for the curious mind with a short attention span.”
I also read somewhere that he is also a former opera singer??? I am not sure if that’s true or not, but if you know, please leave me a comment and let me and the other listeners know as well.
Mike is also an Eagle Scout, and you know that we think that’s cool because our son is an Eagle Scout, and our other son is currently working on his Eagle. He is very close, and he hopes to be done with that very soon!
So, Mike writes a series of articles on his website, and I will post a link to it in the show notes so that you can be sure and go there and check it out.
Just to recap and clarify, I did not write what I am about to read to you. Mike Rowe wrote it, but I want to share it with you today because I feel that it is a powerful message that everyone needs to hear.
It’s called: It’s Enough to Make a Grown Man Weep
It’s a response to a question he received from a listener and fan.
The letter starts out:
“Hi Mike. I think I’m depressed. I know you’re not a doctor, but I saw you play one on TV once, and I was hoping you can explain why I burst into tears every few hours? I’m also wondering if you ever weep, and if so, when?
Fran Sykes
Hi Fran
Obviously, I’m far too manly and rugged to weep, especially in public, but I did come close last week. I was in LA for the first time since March and staying in a Santa Monica hotel. Friday morning, I woke up early and walked south along the beach to my old neighborhood in the Marina. It was an eight-mile walk, roundtrip, and one that I’ve made many times before. But this walk was different. It wasn’t just the makeshift homeless encampments that stretched for nearly two miles along the beach, or the boarded-up businesses with their handwritten “Closed for COVID” signs hanging sadly in the windows. It wasn’t just the dogged joggers, leaping over the slumbering souls strewn about the sidewalk like human speed bumps. It was the sense that something even more terrible had settled over the entire city. Like the plastic coverings my Aunt used to wrap her best furniture in, there was a film between me and everything around me. But it wasn’t a protective film – it was more like a sheen. A greasy, invisible patina that coated everything and everyone, separating us from each other. It was enough to make a grown man weep.
But of course, I didn’t weep. Instead, I walked back to my hotel and took a hot shower. I’ve had many hot showers over the years, after many “dirty jobs,” in countless hotels and motels in every state, and I can tell you there are few things better than a hot shower when you really need one. But this shower was different. Somewhere between the rinsing and the repeating, and the handfuls of scented soap, and the rainforest shower head that doused me in a delightful downpour, I thought about those poor people living on the beach, sleeping in forts made of stained mattresses. I wondered if they would ever experience a similar shower? And as I wondered, I realized that the film was still on me, and that no amount of scrubbing would get it off. That too, was enough to make a grown man weep. Though I did not.
Instead, I toweled myself off, made some coffee, and checked my email. Two hundred new messages. Good grief. They would have to wait. I went to my favorite news sites, where I learned that the election was still contested, COVID was surging, and Joe Biden was promising to institute a national mask mandate on his first day in office. Then, with just a minute to spare, I logged onto my Zoom account and recorded another long-distance episode of Returning the Favor. You’ll see the episode later this month. It’s a good one. A couple of college kids in New Orleans, trying to save their city from the next hurricane. It gave me hope for the next generation. In fact, it nearly made me weep.
But I didn’t weep. Instead, I called an Uber and headed to the airport to catch a flight back to San Francisco. I couldn’t help but notice the driver had installed a shower curtain between the front and back seat – a literal shower curtain. It was made of thick plastic and had pink and blue ducks on it. He asked me if he could take my temperature before I got in.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Rectally or orally?’
He might have laughed, but it was hard to tell behind his mask. Either way, the laser beam that bounced of my head said I was fever-free, so we headed to LAX, where the same invisible film covered us all. Every counter agent stood behind a plastic partition, like a banker, and every traveler wore a mask. Some wore two. I saw one woman wearing protective goggles and rubber gloves, along with an N-95 and what appeared to be a welder’s shield that covered her entire face. I couldn’t tell if she was preparing for surgery or getting ready to pour a foundation. Either way, she wasn’t taking any chances.
From the moving sidewalk, I glided through the terminal and regarded my fellow travelers seated in the waiting areas, each separated by an empty seat. I was struck by the fact that all of them – and I mean every single one – were staring down at their screens. Hundreds of people, all searching for a connection – not with the people beside them – but with somebody else, someplace else. It made me sad, this new and heightened reliance on our screens. It made me wonder if the next lockdown will drive us even further apart, even as it makes us even more reliant on our plastic companions. It made me miss the days before smartphones, even as I glanced down to answer an urgent text from my office.
But I didn’t weep, Fran. Not even a sniffle. I just walked to my gate and stood at the window, watching the planes come and go. And as I watched, I thought of the upcoming holiday and the Mayflower. Four hundred years ago, one hundred and two Pilgrims climbed aboard an eighty-foot boat and sailed three-thousand miles through violent seas to a place they’d never even seen, just so they could worship the God they believed in. Forty-five of them died along the way. Nearly half! But somehow, they endured. And thanks to them, we not only have a Thanksgiving to celebrate, we have a country to call home. I swear, it’s enough to make a grown man weep.
But I didn’t weep, Fran. Instead, I considered my reflection in the window, as my plane taxied toward the gate. I was wearing my “Safety Third” mask, and the sight of it reminded me that life comes with zero guarantees. The possibility that my plane would actually arrive in San Francisco was something that no one could promise, and right there on the back of my ticket, in very fine print, that risk was spelled out. No matter how many times the pilot tells me that “my safety was his top priority,” there was nothing he could do to guarantee my safe arrival in San Francisco. Nothing.
I wondered in that moment, how the Pilgrims felt when they boarded the Mayflower? I wondered if their Captain assured them that “their safety was his priority?” And then I wondered, what would they make of our reaction to this virus today? What would they think of our decision to lock down our houses of worship, along with everything else, in order to fight a disease that might wind up killing a fraction of a percentage of the population? A disease far less deadly than the plagues they dealt with every year?
Obviously, it’s not the kind of question I’d pose here, because doing so would almost certainly lead some to accuse me of “downplaying the dangers of COVID,” which would inspire others to compare COVID to a bad flu, and nothing more. Far be it from me to instigate a food fight between the extremes, but I will say this – somewhere between the “Safety Firsters” and “Covid-Hoaxers,” there’s got to be a sensible approach to living in a dangerous world that’s eventually going to kill us all. That approach, in my opinion, is “Safety Third,” a friendly alternative to “Safety First.”
“Safety Third” is not a call to take unnecessary risk, it’s just another way to say, “be careful out there, but not so careful that you’re unable to function.” It’s also a good-natured reminder that nothing worthwhile in the long history of our species has ever been accomplished by those who were unwilling to assume some degree of risk. (And perhaps, a not so gentle reminder to our elected officials, that the rules and regulations they would have us follow are a lot more persuasive when they follow them too.) I’m not arguing that guidelines and regulations aren’t effective and necessary – I’m just saying that extreme measures often come with a long list of unintended consequences, and these lockdowns are no exception. Here’s a report in Time, that claims over a hundred million people could starve as a direct result of the lockdown.
In the end, “Safety Third” evolved from Dirty Jobs as an attempt to remind my crew and me that on the job, and in life, Safety is never really “first,” and those who claim otherwise were probably selling something or running for office. “Safety Always,” was the far better bromide, but not as catchy as Safety Third, which is why you can find it emblazoned upon my face today.
Mike
Back to your question, Fran. On the flight back to SFO, I thought of my mom and dad in Baltimore, who are about to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary this Thursday. Alas, they will do so alone this year. In much the same way they will celebrate Thanksgiving.
I’m so grateful they have each other, but I’m sad and sorry that I won’t be there with them. Honestly, it’s enough to make a grown man weep.
And so, I did…”
To get the link to this article, and all the other articles that Mike has written, you can find them here. Remember to let me know what you thought about the article and if you could relate to it or not.
If you find yourself at a point of despair during or even after the holidays, please reach out to someone, and please accept help.
I know that throughout this pandemic, I have made a few comments about the whole “we’re in this together” slogan, but one thing is true. We are not alone. We may not all be together or even in this together, but we are not ever all alone. No matter how we feel.
Depression is real, and help is available to you! This pandemic can only magnify the feelings that we’ve already struggled with or even bring up new feelings that we’ve never felt before. If your depression is severe enough that you feel that you are at a dead end and have no place to go or even no reason to live, please consider calling someone who you know is safe.
Don’t call the person who you know deep down doesn’t give a crap about you. Don’t call the person who leaves you feeling worse about yourself when you leave them than you did when you first went to them. Call the person who leaves you walking away feeling better and more empowered than you did before you went to them.
If you don’t feel that you have anyone to call. Please consider calling the National Suicide Hotline at 800-273-8255. They are open 24 hours a day and are ready to talk to you right now!
I have a link in the show notes on my website if you need help finding them, or you can just Google the word “suicide,” and it will immediately pop up.
800-273-8255
