Right now, my primary method for coping with life is Doritos.

Also Munchies, Cheddar and Sour Cream Lays, and sometimes Pringles. And Take 5 bars (mmm).

They’re how I’m getting through the day, how I’m keepin’ on keepin’ on.

Is that slightly horrifying and more than a little repulsive?

Yes. Yes, it is. 

Am I doing anything about it?

No. No, I’m not.

And why is that? Why is someone who thrives on things like celery juice, green smoothies, long walks in nature, and five to six yoga classes per week just shrugging off this over-the-top trashing of her body?

Because it’s not over the top in my current circumstances.

I’m in a garbage situation–one that is time-constrained and almost over–and I’m giving myself whatever grace I need to get through it.

If that means eating junk food until my skin is one giant zit, then it is what it is.

Is it healthy? Assuredly not. Frankly, I’m shocked that I’ve reached this point. I can’t remember the last time I self-soothed with food.

But is it the end of the world? Nope. Not even a little bit.

Sam and I are currently in a 7- to 10-day quarantine (exact release date TBD), less than 6 weeks after a 9-day stay at an isolation facility (where we had symptomatic Covid and no access to fresh air or sunlight), after 3.5 months living out of a suitcase.

My resilience? That buffer I have that keeps me happy, healthy and in good spirits?

It’s tapped out. Taaaaapped out. My tank is empty.

So I’ve thrown up my hands, accepted that I’m in a surviving (not thriving) situation, and I’m doing what I need to do to make it through.

If I were five to ten years further along on my journey, I suspect that I could have weathered this garbage situation without running out of resilience. But I’m not. I’m not five to ten years further along. I’m here. Where I am today.

And, where I am today–well, she ran out of resilience. The habits and routines that help me thrive (including writing) took a hit while I was gallivanting around the globe, celebrating being out of a still-locked-down country (I live in China). Then life-y things (like testing positive for Covid and being sent to an isolation facility) hit me hard.

So I’m munching on more than my fair share of Doritos while spending hours reading escapist fiction books and watching TV until my eyes glaze over. And, you know what? It’s helping.

Letting myself do whatever it takes to get through this quarantine, the final stretch until home sweet home, feels much better than trying to discipline myself into doing better.

I know because I’ve tried both. I’m making a decision using my own inner guidance after experimenting with different options.

I’m currently taking a course with Martha Beck and she reminded me how important this is–that experimentation, that testing and seeing what works best for the version of you that exists in this moment.

In some situations, coping with life by downing Doritos would be a horrible solution to my problems. I can think of plenty of times in my life where that’d be a disaster of an approach. Largely because I would have beaten myself up over the behavior, feeling like I was weak or otherwise unworthy.

Today? I don’t get worked up about over-consuming Doritos because I don’t fear the behavior. There’s no part of me that’s worried that I’m going to carry this into my normal life. 

But you know what was causing me stress? Trying to show up to my beloved routines and not getting what I usually get from them.

That felt horrible. HORRIBLE.

I worried that the spark was gone, hated that something I usually delight in felt so heavy (ick) and that nothing was flowing. It felt forced, draining instead of energizing.

So I stopped. I stopped pushing myself, I stopped demanding any kind of action, I stopped, stopped, stopped…and I picked up my Doritos and my Kindle. Then I felt better.

Remarkably, the morning after my surrender, I woke up energized and eager. I found myself itching to sit down in front of the computer and write, write, write.

That joy in my routines? It returned. As soon as I found a relaxed state of being, a spaciousness, a sense of ease–the spark came back.

Interesting, huh?

Well, it’s interesting to me, anyway. But what do I know? I’m not sure how much weight I’d put in a Dorito-junkie’s musings, after all.