After missing a get-together with a few women, Olive told me I should be thankful. She explained that when Gwen, a new neighbor, wasn't quoting the Bible, she finished other people's sentences. “I couldn't wait for it to end,”Olive confessed. Gwen didn't sound like anyone I wanted to spend time with.
An email from Amazon invites me to set up a book club using the Amazon platform. It got me thinking about the impact books could have on us. What if we treated our book club selection as a sacred reading to open communications with ourselves to better understand who we are?
I didn't see eye-to-eye on every issue with every friend. That was normal. I recall arguing over cocktails about maximum building heights, where I insisted that mountain and ocean views should be left unobstructed for all people to enjoy. My friend believed it belonged to those who could pay for the beach houses and high rise apartments. A group of friends might not have agreed what percent of the state budget should go for road upkeep. As the size of the Michigan potholes widened, consensus got easier to reach. At the end of the night, we'd agree to disagree. No hard feelings. I looked forward to the next time of camaraderie and laughter.
Trauma is shock, suffering, and anguish. Right now, we find ourselves in a country divided along political lines and experiencing a raging pandemic that keeps us physically apart. The consequences of trauma are a range of symptoms, involuntary memories, poor sleep, anxiety, and a sense of doom. How will we move on from here?
We have experiences that are so out of the ordinary that your family doubts your retelling, and you wonder, did it really happen? It's not a: I walked ten miles to school every day, in the deep snow, uphill and into the wind kind. It's more like the Candid Camera moment when a naked young woman, wearing high heel shoes and holding a purse, stepped out of an elevator and asked people for directions.