I’m spending a few days in a conference with a bunch of coworkers. Nice venue in the desert with all of the amenities that I normally would skip but it was touted as the first in-person event since COVID-19 upset everyone’s plans a couple of years ago. A chance to be normal and face-to-face once again.
Count me in.
I get the whole PTSD and victim profiling of ourselves that is popular right now. For those of us not still terrified to go outside, there is a survivor-ship badge that some like to wear around town. For me, the charm of being a survivor wore off years ago. As I processed my first experience of care-giving, I felt special, I felt strong in ways I knew only few people understood. I felt like I had earned some serious self-respect and was going to enjoy it.
Absolutely right.
Being Different
Dad liked to move the whole family to entirely new geography every year or two when I was growing up. Always the new kid in class, I learned to adapt to the uncertainty and anxiety that each of those moves produced. (I pretty much hated every minute of the process too.)
Ever since then, I am able to step into foreign and unknown situations with a certain disregard for the reluctance that all of us normally feel in those circumstances. Care-giving was the ultimate test of that learned response to ambiguity. No map, no light, no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going – no problem.
These are not experiences I seek out but when they do present themselves, I’ve got it covered.
Apparently, not everyone thinks the same way.
Back in the Desert
Meeting up with a large group of people is always a slightly disconcerting experience, especially for us introverts. At least I’d be an introvert if given half a chance. Life keeps calling on me to step up, so semi-extrovert it is!
Meeting people I’ve only known as small animated boxes on a Zoom display is fun for me. I count the hours of conversation and interaction in the virtual world as legitimate interpersonal interactions. I’ve found that not everyone else does.
Conversations have been polite but with a gnawing distance in the middle. Cliques formed and many seem to be circling the interpersonal wagons for protection. Maybe we’re out of practice and re-learning how to interact with one another in person.
Maybe we’re still just scared.
The sponsor of the conference even provided attendees with color coded dots so that we could indicate to others our comfort with physical proximity and contact. From green meaning we can manage handshakes and hugs with others, to red which indicates to others to keep their distance far, far away. There was a fair amount of red coding present in the crowd, though, encouragingly, there were lots of us in green also.
Guess some of us are ready to re-engage the real world more so than others.
Making Lemonade Again
I can’t claim to have been unaffected by the experience of this pandemic. From our personal concerns and anxieties about the infection, to the fears and anxieties instilled in us by our leaders and social media, we have experienced much. We have much to be proud of as warriors in a battle against an enemy that can kill, yet cannot be seen.
We can choose the victim robes to wrap ourselves in, as though perpetuating fear is somehow therapeutic. I understand the inclination to stay in that cocoon of emotion. Fear allows us to feel something when we are not certain what else is out there to feel. Go with what you know, even if it doesn’t get you to where you want to go. I’ll be waiting when you come out.
I’m still not sure where I developed my soldiering-on attitude but it’s what I do. Given some recent conversations with my mom, I suspect I was inoculated with that attitude at a young age. (Thanks, Mom!)
In a similar fashion to taking up the responsibility for my own responses to circumstances, I find myself hoping that any example I can provide in the face of uncertainty for others to see, may help. I’m just trying to make the best of what I’ve got.
It’s the only thing I know to do.
I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.
― Harper Lee
Dad's Back 