The collective trauma on that call was staggering. We were just a handful of women who had come together to discuss how lockdown had impacted our lives.
It all spilled out – “I had a heart-attack on my own”, “I had to face a seven-hour operation alone”, “I had to accept my mute sister may end up in hospital with no carer”, “I had to pack up my home alone”, “I couldn’t get to my mother’s funeral.” That last comment wasn’t mine, but it could have been.
The single biggest cry was being alone, being unable to reach out physically to those we hold dear, and quite simply, hold them. I was lucky enough to have spent lockdown with my husband and my son, so I had ample hugs, but the intense longing to put my arms around my beloved daughter was at times unbearable. I remember the first time we saw each other again face to face, she was worried I would find it harder to see and not touch than not to be close at all.
Whether it was a grandparent not allowed to hug their grandchild, or a woman distancing from her key worker partner, the greatest anguish was the loss of physical contact. One woman told us her grandchild had simply said, “Do you have the bug?” and come up and given her a bear hug. The child’s mother was upset, but it probably did more to aid her mother’s recovery than any medical intervention would have done.
Touch is such a basic human need. In times of heightened fear, we comfort ourselves by reaching out to others – whether they are family, friends or strangers. Just putting a hand on someone else’s in sympathy can send an unspoken message of calm and care. That seems to be what made this pandemic so dreadful for everyone – the loss of physical contact. Holding hands or reaching out on a Zoom call doesn’t have the same impact, does it?
And what did we learn? To appreciate the moment, to feel gratitude for the little things in life. “When I got my diagnosis, all the money I had didn’t mean a thing. I couldn’t hop on a plane for a last weekend living it up in Paris, I couldn’t take a friend out for dinner, I couldn’t even go and buy myself a stunning outfit. It was then I truly understood, money doesn’t count. Your health does. That, and your relationships with others. When the chips are down, that’s all the matters.”
Reaching out virtually to others across the globe in a way we didn’t use to, was also a huge plus. “I now do a yoga class that is based in the north of England, and I could have a teacher from New Zealand, and chat to others before the class from anywhere in the world. That is what has happened to a tiny yoga studio in York. It has become a global concern, meeting and making connections with others in virtual person. And that didn’t happen before.”
Around the virtual table, it was living in the moment that came out tops as the biggest takeout from this global experience. Enjoying the little things, the things we used to take for granted, like coffee with a friend. “I was walking along a country lane in my French village one night. In my pocket I had my friend’s ‘live’ gig playing on my phone, and suddenly I stopped. In front of me a barn owl was looking around to see where the music came from. For one long moment, we stared at each other in the dark, listening to the jazz together.” That ability to stop and slow down, that is where the magic happens.
Reframe Coaching has a free monthly call on the first Tuesday of every month at 8pm London time around a specific topic. You are very welcome to join us on the next one – 6 October – where we will be talking about finding creative ways to cope in this ‘new normal’. Contact us to get the link.
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