“How’s your stress level lately?” my acupuncturist asked me, to which I responded with a slight laugh, “You mean during these stressful times?” It was a laugh that lacked happiness but acknowledged the tragic comedy of it all: a fraught quotidian question that is misaligned with sordid feelings about the state of the world and our American nightmare within it. “Yes,” they laughed back, “even with that.”
After setting the needles in, they left me alone in the room and I Iet out a big sigh. My body was pinned in place but my mind was running in circles. It starts by processing the hours spent reading the horrible news and scrolling through the somber cacophony of social media with its actions for resistance, tips for coping, and internet fighting. And then my mind circles to the engineered addictiveness of our omnipotent internet connection and the unnerving trajectory of social media and tech giants that makes me feel even more ick about the whole thing.
Lately, despair seems neverending. At times, it all feels so fickle and insufferable. My phone was out of reach for the hour and I felt grateful for the distance. When I checked my calendar on my phone to schedule the next appointment, I didn’t dare peek at my notifications or open anything else lest I get sucked back in to the digital void. My body felt ever so calmed and I didn’t want to lose that precious feeling.
Later that evening, we watched an episode of the acclaimed series Somebody Somewhere. It’s a seemingly simple story about personal growth alongside friends and family, but it shines with its unequivocal sincerity. The series is filled with interpersonal gestures and quotidian questions—much like my earlier exchange with the acupuncturist—that paint a resplendent landscape of meaning and connection that makes the series so rewarding to watch. I remarked how touching the episode was after it ended.
When I laid down for bedtime, I thought more about the show we watched. And then I thought about my conversation earlier in the day that stuck with me longer than anticipated. And ever so slightly, the circles in my mind slowed its course.
There’s so much despair to feel and work to do that it’s impossible to ignore and overwhelming to bear. But as there are more bad days and lower moments, I must remember that we can find respite and balance in each other: here and now, in the fraught interpersonal gestures and quotidien questions that affirm our humanity. Things are heavier than ever, and anyone anywhere can be a friend to help carry the weight. We have each other and that hasn’t changed; will never change.
We still need that—I still need that—now more than ever.