Traffic lights and curve balls

While driving to a client session, I came upon not one, not two, but three intersections with traffic lights that had lost power. If we think back to our driver's education days, we’ll recall that we’re to treat such an intersection as an “all-ways” stop sign scenario. However, that wasn't how it played out.

Drivers were behaving like they’d never encountered this situation, resulting in a bit of chaos. Some cars took the right of way that wasn’t theirs, others didn't go when it was their turn, and some tentatively inched into the intersection and floored it a moment later. Horns blared, people threw their arms up in frustration, while others yelled at no one in particular.

As I drove through the last intersection unscathed, I realized I’d just witnessed how people often respond to life's unexpected curve balls—with anger, frustration, and fear.

A couple of years ago, I had a significant curveball thrown at me. When the pandemic lockdown began, a close friend of mine isolated himself at home and started consuming vast amounts of harsh and inflammatory media and alcohol. When I’d call him, conspiracies and government crimes began dominating the conversation, with room for little else.

A few weeks later, he sent a text to me and some other friends. In it, he said he would potentially be ending his relationships with us due to diametrically opposing political beliefs and our support of politicians he believed were responsible for the country’s downfall.

I was stunned. Over the decades, we have watched each other grow and evolve, celebrating one another’s successes and giving support through our challenges. Vegas weekends, concerts, and sporting events were great times we had. For him, all of that had seemingly become less relevant, but I wasn’t willing to simply wish him well and walk away from our 40-year friendship.

I called him every few days to be present, to listen, and to try to understand where he was coming from, though our conversations were strained and not very productive. The potential of losing my friend affected my energy, sleep, and ability to focus. Though I couldn’t control the outcome of this situation, I could take steps to address my stress levels.

I spent time doing deep, diaphragm breathing to reduce cortisol and calm my system; this was especially beneficial before bed. I journaled in the evenings—getting my thoughts and feelings on paper helped me process them and decompress. I leaned heavily on my parents and other friends for their support and advice. Having them in my corner brought comfort and helped me trust that whatever happened would be for the highest good.

I was surprised when he called a month later and said, “I just wanted to check in and say ‘Hey.’” There was no talk of politics or conspiracies. He told me his months of constant angst, little sleep, and feeling “like garbage” had become too much. He stopped watching videos and news feeds that stoked his anger and poured out the alcohol. He sounded more like himself, and his apologetic tone indicated that ending our friendship was off the table. Our political views still differ, but extending love and patience through his period of darkness helped him remember what was important—the value and rewards of our friendship.

Curveballs, as we know, come in all forms, from inconveniences to those that shake our foundation, and no one is exempt. What are some actions you've taken that helped you successfully weather the storm and get back on solid ground?