I am really fortunate. For now, I have a place to live. It is in a stunning location. I am surrounded by farmland. I can hear the birds sing. I have a good internet connection. I can continue with my work. I have a long list of useful jobs to get done. I am certainly not short of things to do. I am truly grateful.
I interact with people every day in the online world, often with live Zoom calls. I even enjoyed an improv class last night with some lovely people I've known for years and haven't played with in ages.
Yet, I have just noticed my reaction to an invitation to have a family Easter Party on Zoom. We met up last week for an online 'dinner', and it was lovely to see everyone. But, what hit me hard afterwards was that I am the only family member who is currently alone. And, as much as I can appreciate the benefits of my current living situation, I know that is not what I really want, and never has been. That is hard to admit.
When I started writing this post I thought it was about wanting what we don't have. The grass being greener on the other side of the fence, and all that. But as I write I think maybe it is deeper. Perhaps it's about being able to notice what's underneath. What is not being said. Maybe, like me, putting on a brave face, and pushing aside our true desires so often that we even believe the story we tell ourselves; we are just fine as we are.
In my splendid isolation I am fine most of the time. Busy doing my thing. Taking each day as it comes. Living in the moment. I am doing what I do well and making the best of the situation, not making a fuss and being independent.
But perhaps hidden are underlying feelings of fear, uncertainty, grief, loneliness, overwhelm, helplessness and frustration.
Maybe for many of us the current world crisis is heightening what was there already. It's time to get more real with each other, and find ways to share our vulnerability. To admit we are scared, lonely, sad or angry, before it gets out of hand and turns inward on ourselves, or explodes outwards and impacts others.
And, often it's in the admitting to it, and sharing of it that it begins to transform. We don't necessarily need anyone to do anything, other than give us some time and attention, to be seen and to be heard.
Having spilled my own beans, I am curious about what you are not admitting to. Is there something that you haven't even acknowledged to yourself?