Our people are everything
As we emerge, blinking and a bit shellshocked, from a year that few of us could have prepared for and none of us would repeat and too many of us didn’t survive, we do so with an eye toward our relationships. What happens to a marriage when you strip away the social lives of both partners and move the bulk of their work calls and exercise routines and newfound hobbies (sourdough starter!) under one roof, day after day after day?
What happens when you throw the efficacy of masks and the other a little economic anxiety in there? doesn’t?
Possibly mourning as well? What happens to parents and children What happens to friendships when the number of hours when you can’t gather for meals, they spend together quadruples? gather for drinks, gather for concerts, And so do the number of conflicts gather for movies, gather for and stressors? (But so do the number birthdays? What happens when one of laughs?) of you travels during a pandemic What about the co-workers we and the other judges you for traveling adored but haven’t seen, face-toface, during a pandemic? What happens in close to a year? Or that guy when one of you believes in from the gym? That favorite barista?
The bus driver who cracked the best jokes? How are they?
The truth is, the coronavirus pandemic has affected us in wildly different ways. Some of us didn’t have the luxury of working from home. Some of us didn’t have the luxury of working at all, the virus having ravaged the economy and laid waste to so many livelihoods. Some of us have lived through it alone and would give anything for constant companionship, however tedious.
But it has affected all of us, and our relationships, in some way.
My hope is we emerge from this tragic chapter with a renewed respect and appreciation for the joy and weight and value of human connection. My hope is we remember, for the rest of our days, what it feels like to forgo a hug or skip Thanksgiving or miss a graduation ceremony or rely on Zoom for the sort of tender conversations that call for eye contact and proximity. My hope is we’re learning — truly learning, not just paying it lip service — that our people are everything. Celebrating with our people, arguing with our people, mourning with our people, learning with our people, laughing with our people, growing with our people.
I read roughly 8 gazillion books during lockdown. Mostly novels, a handful of memoirs. They exercised my imagination and my empathy in ways that, I hope, kept them strong for when I’m back to seeing and living among all my people again — the ones I know and the ones I don’t. One of the books was “Group: How One Therapist and a Circle of Strangers Saved My Life,” by Christie Tate. In it, Tate conjures a beautiful metaphor for her heart’s failure, throughout most of her life, to attach to another heart.
She writes about making a mug in a high school pottery class and learning that in order to get the handle to securely fasten to the side of the cup, she needed to score both the handle and the cup — to slash them with a knife and leave their surfaces scratched and rough.
She writes about skipping that step and collecting her mug from the kiln and seeing its handle, unattached, shattered next to the cup. She writes about realizing that our hearts, too, need to be scored in order to attach. We can’t protect and shield them to the point that their surfaces stay smooth and unscratched.
Surely this pandemic has scored our hearts. And maybe, hopefully, we will emerge from the isolation and the grieving and the growth and the what-just-happened of it all hungry for and capable of beautiful, lifelong, secure attachments.
rescued my little Foxy several years ago. I wasn't looking for her, but she just crawled up on to my lap and went to sleep, so I took her home. She spent the night with her head on my pillow, and I knew she belonged with me. It wasn't all green grass and fire hydrants. She had been abused, was not socialized well and not trained at all, so we walked and worked every day to give her the most comfortable life possible, and she adapted pretty well.
I was her person. She didn't really like other dogs or people... until I met my to-be wife. The day Angelika came over to visit for the first time was the last time Foxy was truly my dog. She abandoned me for the love of a tender woman, and who can blame her? I would have done the same. Then Angelika and I got married, and we're a happy family.
We always walk together, the three of us, through our village, in and out of the greenbelts and pathways, from the hills to the lake — we cover a lot of ground almost every single day. My wife holds the lead, and I get the poop bag, but it's all good. We get exercise and have fun, because Foxy enjoys her walks and prances through the neighborhood like a 10-pound prize pony.
How sweet and lovely, you say, but there is a dark side to the furry little mongrel! Foxy is now a one-woman dog — she has totally bonded with my wife and won't go for a walk at all if Angelika is out. She just lies in her bed by the window waiting for her angel to walk through the door, and I have to tell you, I'm feeling a little rejected. But it's pretty cute.
When mom gets home, the dog runs, barking into my office, so I know to go to the door. She shakes from tail to nose and literally squeals with joy so loudly, you'd think she was in pain. It's a remarkable ritual that goes on for several minutes until the dogchild needs a drink.
I understand animal bonding. My therapy dog, Mercy, was with me for over a decade, and we were a total item. In fact, it wasn't until Mercy died that I decided to remarry. That's how much unconditional love she gave me. She was ill for a year before she passed, and we went to the vet every single day for IV fluids. At that time, my life was truly dedicated to her, and she deserved it.
Now my wife is getting to experience that kind of bond for the first time. You can have a very deep connection with a dog or a cat. Young or old, big or little, when your dog finds you, it's an amazing experience, and the love you feel doesn't take anything away from anyone else — it just makes your life sweeter. This may be why there have been so many more adoptions of so-called pandemic puppies.
I need to mention here that when you adopt an animal, it is a lifetime commitment. It doesn't end when the quarantine is over or you go back to work. Too many people give up their pets when life gets inconvenient, but by that time the animals have bonded with them, and it just isn't fair to the dog or cat. It breaks their little hearts, and it is traumatizing for them to be back in a shelter. If you do adopt, remember it's for life. And if your pet falls for your other half, just enjoy watching the love.
Dr. Barton Goldsmith, a psychotherapist in Westlake Village, California, is the author of "The Happy Couple: How to Make Happiness a Habit One Little Loving Thing at a Time."