In reaching out, we save ourselves

I feel as though a sob is lodged in my throat and will emerge at, likely, the most inopportune moment. It has been there awhile, though it shrinks occasionally when I've had a particularly good day. It's my 2020 sob, a lump of sadness for all the pain felt by so many this awful, horrible year.

We're among the lucky ones. I live in Canada, where the virus has definitely wreaked havoc but nothing on the scale of our neighbors to the south. I only personally know one person who has had COVID – who died from it – and she lived in Florida. My husband and I have not lost our jobs. Our two older kids have had to do remote learning, which sucks but they have access to laptops and high-speed Internet and incredibly patient, hard-working teachers. Our youngest has had part-time in-person classes with equally hardworking teachers who have shown up in person and who have been a godsend. We have food, shelter, each other. Rarely have I felt so privileged on a daily basis to feel safe.

And yet...so much pain. So much sadness. So many alone. So many who've lost jobs. So many going to jobs where they feel unsafe. Where they are unsafe. So much anger. So much vitriol. 

But also, so much gratitude. When the world feels dark, a whole lot of us find ourselves grateful for even the tiniest bit of light.

It's not unlike those early days and weeks and months following D-Day. When our lives have been upended but we aren't yet sure what shape our new lives will take. When we can't imagine that the day will come when we feel a sliver of joy or gratitude. How could we? And yet, we do. A child's laugh. A friend's smile over Zoom. A dog bolting across a yard to greet us. A cat's contented purr. A good book. A cup of tea. A starlit night. I promise you, those moments are there if you look for them. Looking for loveliness, a friend of mine calls it. And she makes it a daily practice.

The New York Times asked listeners to The Daily podcast to share good news stories. People called in with tales of new babies, falling in love, learning to play the trumpet, riding a bike, a boys' successful cancer treatments and so much more. Light within the darkness. 

One listener noted that our instinct is to seek out connection, which looks so much different in 2020 than it did the year before. "In reaching out, we save ourselves," he said. 

I had to pause and rewind it to hear those words again. In reaching out, we save ourselves. The sob in my throat grew and a few tears leaked out. It's what happens here on this site all the time. It's what I've witnessed for more than a decade, since I first created Betrayed Wives Club in 2009. You reach out, first with your own story. Others read it and see themselves in your pain. Me too, they write, though not always in those words. I know that pain. I know that loneliness. I know that fear. That loss. That grief.

Thank-you all for what you do to keep this space a bright spot. May you find your own light this season. May it remind you that always, always the light will return and grow stronger the more we tend to it. In the meantime, may we continue to reach out to each other and, in so doing, also save ourselves.