We are like islands in
the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.<\/p>\n
– – William\u00a0James<\/p>\n
In 1975, my second marriage fell\u00a0apart. Technically my husband left me, but when he walked out the door, I realized\u00a0that I had made it happen. He had retreated into himself when I said four\u00a0potent words, \u201cShow up or leave.\u201d He\u2019d had one foot out the door for a long\u00a0time and the moment I gave him a hall pass, he was out of there. I sobbed and\u00a0felt betrayed, but when I look back, I wasn\u2019t crying because of the loss of him.\u00a0He had become a pain in the ass and I was happier when I was away from him. I was\u00a0crying because I was afraid of being alone, of feeling lonely and disconnected.<\/p>\n
The first night after he left, I\u00a0couldn\u2019t sleep. It wasn\u2019t because missed him. I didn\u2019t. It wasn\u2019t because the\u00a0house had its creaks and groans. They didn\u2019t scare me. It was the crippling silence,\u00a0a sense that I was the only person in the world, that if I disappeared, no one\u00a0would notice. I walked from room to room. There were physical gaps, empty\u00a0spaces where his things had been. That was sad but the emotional gaps were far\u00a0worse, like deadly abysses and I was afraid of falling in. I felt untethered,\u00a0flailing around, upset by the absence. I felt hopelessly lonely and insecure. No\u00a0roots. No one to talk to. I was alone in a standing up free fall and when I put\u00a0out feelers, there was nothing or no one to attach to. Like Alice in Wonderland\u00a0who fell down the rabbit hole, I didn\u2019t know where I\u2019d land or if I would land.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
We can do something about feeling
alone. We can see friends, talk on the phone, watch movies and get lost in
creative projects. But being disconnected is another story. It feels like we\u2019re
stuck\u00a0 and it can throw us off balance. On one of my trips to research the healers in the Philippines, the late Spalding Gray, a famous writer\/monologist joined me there in 1992. He had heard of the healers, he was in a severe depression and he wanted to see if they could help him. Over a beer one night, he told me about his recent attempt to write an autobiographical book. He kept writing pages and throwing them into a box. When he reached two thousand pages and the box was overflowing, he stopped and wrote a monologue about writing his memoir that he called \u201cMonster in a Box.\u201d<\/p>\n
During a photo shoot to promote it,\u00a0the photographer brought in a huge wooden box and asked Spalding to stand on it\u00a0for a photo. There was a stairway beside it and Spalding became anxious as he
climbed. With each step, he became more fearful and when he reached the top, he\u00a0dropped to his hands and knees. He couldn\u2019t stand up. He tried, he looked straight ahead, but he kept teetering and he was back on his hands and knees\u00a0again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d the photographer\u00a0asked him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI feel disconnected,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u00a0keep losing my balance. I need a mirror to look into so I know there\u2019s someone there.\u201d<\/p>\n
The photographer\u2019s assistant\u00a0brought in a standing mirror. When Spalding looked at his reflection he was\u00a0able to stand up on the box for the photo.<\/p>\n
I think it\u2019s important here to discuss\u00a0the difference between connection and clinginess. Hanging on to someone for\u00a0dear life is powered by a fear that they will abandon you and leave you alone. On\u00a0the other hand, being one with yourself is powered by the faith that we are all united.<\/p>\n
Yesterday, families and friends gathered\u00a0to celebrate Thanksgiving. It was a joyous occasion for some people but for\u00a0others, not so much. You can feel alone in a crowded room. You can forget the
meaning of the celebration. I was telling a friend about the lavish
Thanksgiving meal I had. He smiled and said, \u201cI ate at Taco Bell but I was\u00a0thankful.\u201d He felt more in sync with himself than some people who spent the day\u00a0eating with their families.<\/p>\n
We feel insubstantial when we\u2019re disconnected\u00a0to everything and everyone, including ourselves. The number of suicides in\u00a0young people is rising. Have you ever seen a group of teenagers sitting in a restaurant,\u00a0staring at their phones? They may be texting people who are somewhere else or they\u00a0may be texting the person beside them. They don\u2019t look in each other\u2019s eyes and\u00a0see the love. They don\u2019t get to read someone else\u2019s body language and\u00a0understand where they\u2019re coming from. These things can lead to depression.<\/p>\n
We are meant to unite with each\u00a0other, the reason there is more than one of us. The more we see other human\u00a0beings as a way to be with ourselves, the safer we feel. The more we have faith\u00a0in other people, the more we see reality. In this way, we can be bonded, even\u00a0when someone dies. Back in the late eighties, I lost a dear friend to AIDS. He\u00a0had introduced me to Marianne Williamson who invited me to visit her. When I told\u00a0her I was grieving the loss of my friend and I felt disconnected, she said, \u201cThere\u00a0is no disconnection. You can start a whole new relationship with him now.\u201d<\/p>\n
New York Times bestselling author\u00a0and motivational speaker, Bren\u00e9 Brown says, \u201cConnection is why we\u2019re here. We are hardwired to connect with others. It\u2019s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it, there is suffering.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We are like islands inthe sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep. – – William\u00a0James In 1975, my second marriage fell\u00a0apart. Technically my husband left me, but when he walked out the door, I realized\u00a0that I had made it happen. He had retreated into himself when I said four\u00a0potent words, \u201cShow up […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":2578,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2579","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2579","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2579"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2579\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2580,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2579\/revisions\/2580"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2578"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2579"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2579"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2579"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}