Have you ever been in a state where your mind feels like it’s spinning without any indication of stopping? You can lie awake for hours at night, thinking of everything and nothing at once because each thought is so fleeting one cannot be grasped firmly enough to pull your mind out of the maelstrom. The compass to give your mind direction on the stormy seas of contemplation isn’t broken or shattered. It’s there, safe within its seal, but spinning maddeningly, dizzyingly directionless.
Often times for me this experience of loss of direction is usually brought about by loss of… something. The loss of a close friend in a car accident or suicide, family members from cancer, a beloved dog from a coyote hunter, or even the loss of connection with close friends who move away. During these times I feel as though I’m in a single-person canoe surrounded by the expansive sea with stomach churning waves and massive swirling gyres.
As in life, some people’s worlds are dominated by endless onslaughts of ups and downs, peaks and troughs. Others experience those momentous times, but more rarely. As in nearly everything, there is a sliding scale of severity in each case for each person. For those of us who do experience the calm times, we can relax and enjoy the sunshine as it be. However, sometimes a storm comes and rocks our little boats. Those who have prepared will likely fare better than those who have not. Sometimes there is no preparing for what life can throw at you.
Picture the connection people have with others like a rope between your boat and theirs in the ocean of experiential turbulence. The stronger the relationship, the sturdier the rope. The thick ropes connecting each other hold us together, steady ourselves, and keep our bow pointing in a good direction.
Yet, as connections can be made, so too can they be unmade. Like a rope that snaps or frays, sometimes it’s fast, sometimes it’s agonizingly slow. The internet can keep us together only so much. The links which bind people together are still there, but virtual ropes don’t always hold as strongly and are more susceptible to vanishing altogether.
When a person is affected by an internal storm that no one else can clearly see or experience themselves, it may come off as though the person is just wanting attention as they flail about or retreat within themselves. They’ve cast their ropes out, hoping for someone, anyone to pick up the other end. Sometimes the immediate world takes notice and builds a strong connection of support network. Other times people can be ignored or overlooked in the hustle and bustle of daily life and mounting pressure from this and that. Sometimes people drown in the bottomless ocean with the roughest of seas. And sometimes, whether in their fear or anger or something else, they bring others down with them.
Other people aren’t always the source of stability. Pets, work, books, goals are foundations we can harbor for a time, but I would wager the strongest, the most resilient, the quickest, and most responsive form of stability comes from our fellow humans. Our family, friends, neighbors are all sources of security when we’re in need.
Yes, a plethora of ropes tying people together can sometimes get tangled and messy. So, what do we do then? Do we all just panic as the next storm takes us all at once or one by one? Or do we calmly communicate with each other, move that rope under the other, around that one there, and untie the mess we got ourselves into? I challenge you to allow yourself to focus on your well-being and ask for help when you need it. In return, be there for someone else when they need yours. It feels good to be helped and have direction, and even better to help others.
Family meals at least once a day, walks with your friends outdoors (of all places), neighborhood outings at the park. Real human contact. Real human connection. Real human communication. This is what makes a support network. That’s what steadies the compass point.
Cheers.
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