It’s OK to not be OK

I know, I know. It sounds like something you’re supposed to say, but that doesn’t really mean anything. “It’s OK to not be OK.” Kind of similar to “there, there…” and “it is what it is.” I get it, trust me I do. But this one is actually legit. Because life is rather unreal at the moment, and it has been for many of us for quite a while. A lot of us are not OK. And after reading how my last few months went from DC to New York and then back to DC again… just trust me, you’re in good company.

I was having a conversation with a dear friend of mine today. She’s actually the reason I’ve been living in the DC area for the past 7 months. She has literally just had the toughest 8 months of her 41 years on this earth – pre-covid craziness.

On what seemed like a normal day in a normal week, she suffered a series of seizures and then a stroke. An actual stroke. And after being rushed to the hospital, where she was somehow left to sit in the waiting room, she had another seizure before finally being admitted and ushered to the back for medical assistance. I was still living in New York at the time and was completely oblivious to any of what had just taken place. In fact, I was experiencing my own meltdown of a crisis (it’s ok) but more on that in a second…

Fast forward 30 days. My homegirl had spent the entire month in the ICU, and was now being released into the care of a place that wasn’t her home. She needed in-home care and was undergoing what would be months and months of brain scans and therapies. And she needed help. She was not OK.

So back to my crisis.

This is me, in front of what I thought was going to be my Harlem apartment. Third floor of a beautiful brownstone. Huge windows, glowy sunlight, beautiful hardwood floors…. ugh. It had been almost 3 years since I’d finally had my own place. Sure, I’d been living in apartments and paying rent, but for one reason or another – it wasn’t my own. I was not OK. But I was about to be because I was about to have my dream NY apartment on the top floor of a brownstone… with huge windows, glowy sunlight, and – you get the picture.

But not really. It didn’t happen. It didn’t go through. I didn’t get it. I was officially homeless. I was not OK.

When I say I called my homegirl the SAME day… because after I finally stopped crying, I realized that the way my brain is set up: if I can’t actually help myself in a crisis, can’t actually fix it or help or end it, I have to go and find someone else to help. So I called. I reached out. It had been a good month since we had chatted and that’s when I found out about the stroke. The ICU. The therapies. The walker (yes, she had to use a walker at 41). The inability to drive herself. She was not OK.

And so I left NY that weekend. I came back to DC and rented out her condo while she stayed in a place that was more handicap-accessible. I drove her to her appointments and got her groceries and medicines (in her car mind you – I had sold mine while living in NY). We were are own little situation. My recently-homeless tail had a whole place to call my own (minus all her stuff LOL). And her recently-hospitalized self had a driver, chef, and comedian at her beck and call. We made it OK.

Y’all… life if funny. When I tell you it’s funny, I mean it is funny. You hear me? Not always funny ha ha. More like funny shake your head. Funny I’m gonna laugh to keep from crying. Funny I’m gonna cry but then I’ma laugh cause I have to stop crying. This is life. 

But we are OK. She is walking on her own. No walker. No cane. Discharged from all therapies. As of July 1st, she is finally back home and healing well. But she’s tired. And as we spoke, she said “I’m feeling a little emotional and I don’t know why.” And I just looked at her like she was absolutely crazy.

“Uuumm… probably because you’ve just gone through an insane 8 months and we’re totally in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.” I think that might just entitle you to feel a little emotional. Shoot… I’ve been fairly healthy and even I am a little emotional.”

Things are not normal. And they may never be normal again.

We can’t hug our friends. We can’t really hug our family, unless they live with us. People are laid off. Schools are closed. Stores and restaurants are open… but most are hesitant to go. Kids are scared. Parents are stressed. And then there are those who feel it’s all a hoax and go about living as nothing is happening – potentially threatening the health of everyone else. The list of stressors is non-ending.

But we will be OK. And even if you’re not, it’s OK. Take care of yourself until you are. Don’t overindulge with the daily news. Take sanity breaks or mid-day naps. If it’s possible where you live, take a socially-distanced walk. Talk and video conference with loved ones. Pray. Meditate. Practice self-care. Don’t beat yourself up. 

It’s OK to not be OK. Cause we’re all in this together. And one day, it will be better. 

Promise.