medicine for difficult times
December 5, 2023
Y’all, it’s so goddamn hard to be a human right now. I know that this mortal coil situation has always been a hard road, but this moment feels like a particularly tricky one to exist within. And I say this in full and utter recognition of how much privilege and freedom and resources that I (and most of the people who I spend time with) have access to. As Brené Brown says: “piss and moan with perspective.”
That said, I know so many of us feel overwhelmed by the weight of it all right now. Alongside the demands and stressors of our own lives (hello, holiday season!) and the increasingly frenetic pace at which we tend to operate, we continue to be witness to acute collective suffering at scales that our ancient nervous systems are not equipped to handle. As if that wasn’t hard enough, we are longing for real connection while living in one of the loneliest times in human history.
I can lean on various tendencies when I’m feeling overwhelmed with life, but more than anything I have a historical tendency to withdraw and shut down. To numb out with food or retreat into long and ridiculous fantasy novels or to watch dog videos ad nauseam on TikTok. I’ve often envied folks with nervous systems that tend more toward mobilization, even anxiety, under stress, because from the vantage point of hour five on the couch, compulsive list-making or cupboard organizing seems like a morally superior alternative.
Add to this the guilt for not being productive (ugh) or for checking out of the world when so many people don’t have that option. It can get tricky up in this brain, folks. I’m sure some of you can relate.
Whatever your own go-to coping strategies (you don’t even have to tell me what they are), know these three things to be true: 1) you are not alone in these tendencies, 2) your stress response system is doing exactly what it’s designed to do (protect you in the face of perceived threat), and 3) nearly everything from snack food to social media is minutely designed to keep us hooked and coming back for more.
Also, know this: being hard on ourselves for leaning on these tendencies adds salt to the wound, insult to injury. It’s not helpful, y’all. More and more research shows that harsh self-criticism doesn’t actually help us change unwanted behaviors, it just makes us feel worse.
I invite you to consider the possibility that compassion (for ourselves + others) might be the medicine we need right now.
Compassion offers a real, tangible way of engaging with the world that allows us to keep our hearts open to our own and others’ suffering. It motivates us from a place of love rather than fear or guilt, and it provides a resting place to return to when we are overwhelmed in the face of it all. Compassion is a muscle that we can actively strengthen, a practice we can return to, not just an intention that we hold.
Compassion says three things, whether to others or to ourselves:
Shit is hard. (Acknowledging suffering with mindfulness)
You’re not alone. (Recognizing our shared humanity)
How can I help? (Responding with kindness and care)
Compassion is a twin sister to connection. Now more than ever, we as humans long for authentic connection and meaningful engagement with the world. Trying to hold the enormity of these times from the isolated enclaves of our own siloed experiences perpetuates our suffering. It increases the likelihood that we’ll lean on unhealthy strategies and can make the actions that we do take feel less significant.
So whatever it is that you are feeling or thinking or needing right now, talk about it with others. Reach out to have an honest and open conversation. Go beneath the surface and ask the people you love, “how are you, really?” and then listen with an open heart.
Shit is hard. You’re not alone. How can I help?
We’ve got this. One step at a time.
💙 Jo