Love in a time of Virus: Vulnerability

Dear ones, 

There is a small park near my house with a stream that was revitalized a few years ago to bring back the local salmon and birds. I go down there most days, especially now since sheltering in place. Every spring I get a bit wrapped up in the drama of the Cheep-Cheeps, as they are known in my house. When the kids were little we would walk to the park and excitedly count the tiny ducks and watch them teeter around after their mama. These days I am watching a group of 7 Cheep-Cheeps. When I can only find 5 or 6 of them and get worried, my husband tries to convince me it’s a different group of Cheep-Cheeps than my group of 7. His obvious attempts to soften the blow have grown over the years of watching me get caught up in the lives of these tiny creatures. 

A couple of years ago, I noticed that there were several Cheep-Cheeps, I called them the Triplets, who seemed to be orphaned. They didn’t seem to have any adult ducks they were following; instead they seemed to be staying as close to one another as they could. They moved frantically through the water with jerky movements. They alway looked startled. We would watch them and wonder what happened to their mama, and how had they survived? It was heartbreaking and miraculous. Of course I was (over)identified with them, having grown up feeling like an orphan myself. Most days, I walked to the park alone or with my husband looking for them, watching them grow. They were tied together, never straying far from each other. It wasn’t long before one day we couldn’t find all three of them and the Triplets became the Twins.  I was on the edge of my seat cheering the Twins on, hoping they would make it to adulthood. As they got bigger, it got harder to tell which ducks were my Twins, and I had to accept not knowing if they made it.

Today I worked with a couple in the late stages of therapy, building a bond together that is strong and resilient after many years of a cycle that left them feeling emotionally distant. They are now at a point where they understand the pattern that keeps them apart and they know they both play a role in it. I worked with the woman today helping her to feel deep inside where there is a little girl who always felt alone and scared. She tells herself that no one is ever there for her, and when we touch this part of her she says, I can’t risk sharing this part of me and risk that he won’t be there. But we stay and I circle. I sit with this little girl who feels so fragile, so sensitive that if there is any possibility of disappointment she puts up her walls. It takes time, but eventually she turns to him and says softly, I am scared to let you see this part of me. I am so scared of being hurt or let down, I just don’t want to take the risk. The three of us are floating in a timeless moment, awed by the preciousness of this rare sighting. He says, right now I feel that this is what I have yearned for all of my life. As I work with them across the internet, my heart is expanding, saturated with pain, love and admiration. Another thread is tied between their hearts.  This moment makes me feel I can walk through another day of quarantine, another day of uncertainty and loss. It is the small miracle of my work when for a moment people allow these parts of themselves to be held.

There is a simple truth at the heart of relational therapy which is that sharing vulnerability brings people closer. In the end, we have to learn how to simply feel what we feel in the moment without fixing, solving, blaming or shaming. Sitting naked with ourselves and listening. It’s a simple idea to understand and explain, and it sounds like an after school special when I say it. But trying to live into this idea, to explore it in my work and in my closest relationships has been a messy, confusing process that has left me at times feeling lost or inadequate. It seems that human beings will do whatever we can to avoid feeling our own vulnerabilities. I learned quite early to lead with my thinking, figuring out everyone around me so that I could navigate the family landscape. This didn’t help me to know myself or my heart, but it was my way of keeping my heart safe. We all have a story to tell about how we learned to protect our tender hearts. Who knows your story? Who knows the pathway to these parts of you?

We have so many ways of trying to get around feeling our feelings. In my office I see people telling others what to do, how to be, telling themselves how to be, trying to change circumstances, trying to change the future or the past, anything to avoid feeling what we are feeling in our hearts right now. People thrash about like a fish on a hook trying to escape the simplicity of words like, I am scared, I am sad, I need you. Not, I need you to take care of the laundry (that is a different conversation) or I need you to be more ______ (trying to get others to be different). We all need someone to take us by the hand and walk with us deeper into our hearts and help us look around. 

Here in the U.S., there is a conversation going on right now about opening up the economy versus continuing to try to prevent the spread of COVID-19 by extending physical distancing and sheltering in place. At the heart of this conversation on all sides there is fear. We have good reasons to be afraid: loss of life, loss of family, loss of the ability to provide for basic needs. There is no path forward that avoids suffering. And there is no way for one side of this argument to have what they want or need without compromising the needs of others. It seems more obvious than ever that we are so tied together and that we are being challenged to see if we can really hold the welfare of others in our hearts. I am struck in moments by how difficult it is for many people to grasp the truth of our interconnectedness and our vulnerability. 

Imagine I am treating a couple where one person felt drawn to return to their business and social life, and the other felt they needed to be more careful and stay at home. Both feel scared of what they could lose, and passionate that they have the answer about how to protect them both. The only way I know through this is to help them both feel their feelings and to share them. If I do my job well, they see each other the way I see the Cheep-Cheeps. Beautiful, vulnerable, fragile and resilient. I don’t know what they will decide, but I have faith that they will make a better decision from this place. Seeing each other this way sometimes has to start with seeing ourselves this way. Can you see this part of yourself? Will you walk into your heart and look around a while? 

Stay close,
Sharon