If you’re not exhausted right now, you probably aren’t paying attention.
See my new post on coping with pandemic fatigue at www.thecogjameffect.com.
If you’re not exhausted right now, you probably aren’t paying attention.
See my new post on coping with pandemic fatigue at www.thecogjameffect.com.
In the Keepers series, Sarah Turner is no stranger to loneliness. Hers, however, is not caused by quarantines and social distancing.
We can feel lonely even while standing in a crowded room. Likewise, many people experience their alone time as a welcome opportunity for peaceful solitude, rather than isolation and misery.
Loneliness is a state of mind. It’s about how connected you feel with others, regardless of how many people surround you or the number of “likes” you get on social media. It’s about quality of relating to others, not quantity.
This is what happened with our Sarah. She downplayed the importance of intimacy in her life in order to to focus on pressing long-term goals. Realizing what she had done, as well as the job of reconnecting with important others, carries her through at least three novels.
During this pandemic, social distancing stems from safety issues. But we need not feel lonely. Thanks to modern technology, there are many ways to reach out and connect with friends and relatives.
Yet one of the most healing remedies for loneliness lies elsewhere. It’s about discovering recognition that we are part of something much bigger: common humanity. Feeling lonely is difficult when we see ourselves as ongoing members of a larger, significant whole. How can we use extra time on our hands to do good?
Virtual groups and organizations abound. Options for joining online groups that make a difference are endless. We need not be physically or even virtually together to benefit. Merely knowing we are part of something purposeful, meaningful, and bigger than ourselves is key. Most likely, the current civil rights protests are at least partially fueled by human resilience seeking relief by joining a greater good.
We dare not pass up this opportunity to brew the lemonade that quenches the thirst of struggling common humanity. There are so many worthy causes we can become part of. In addition to relieving loneliness, the passion and energy created by our joint gut reactions can lead us to safe and productive paths for reform, no matter what our cause:
Complaining about and protesting against social problems does indeed help bring them to light. However actions that directly tweak the problems are an entirely different kettle of fish.
Sarah discovers multiple opportunities for addressing her loneliness. Where might your own opportunities lie?
“I don’t have time to think about how I feel.” The disheveled woman gestures at tornado-ravaged debris that once had been her home. “Look at everything we’re contending with!” Her family members are aimlessly stumbling, poking at this or that. She spends the rest of her day dabbing away grime from salvaged silver.
How do we help those in such circumstances? This week our hearts go out to those learning about destruction and personal loss due to flooding in South Carolina. Where do their feelings leave them? How do we comfort, and help them move on?
When circumstances are overwhelming, it’s easy to get stuck. There is so much to attend to immediately following disaster. Especially if the damage is personally catastrophic:
“Why do I always feel so worked up? Why can’t I just relax?”
Our bodies are blessed with a “fight, flight, or freeze” response system. It’s a chemical chain of events that kicks in during times of urgency. Animals in the wild most clearly demonstrate its value. Engaging a foe, running from a predator, and freezing to become invisible are all practices that increase longevity. They are essential to survival. Such physical activity also uses up the chemicals that pump up the response.
With human beings, how it might be funneled into survival is not always clear-cut, especially following disaster. At first a course of action may be obvious, like gathering up loved ones and/or possessions, getting out of harm’s way, or helping with sandbags or rescue efforts. At other times, it means a lot of sitting around: hunkering down in a shelter, anticipating news of what happened or if you can go home, and waiting for relief resources to move in.
After the storm passes, additional considerations emerge:
Such worries pump up our bodies for action. It’s the same as a gazelle out on the savannah, running from a lion. During disaster there generally isn’t any lion for us to run from, perhaps not even an idea of what could be done at the moment. The result is that dealing with disaster can turn into sitting and stewing in our own juices. Doing so brings about a host of physical, mental, and behavioral ailments. Those of us who go through severe trauma during a disaster are especially at risk. Continue reading