(Un) Comfortably Numb

“Hello? Is anybody in there?”

“I have become comfortably numb.”

Pink Floyd

We are being bombarded with numbers. Numbingly numerous numbers. Allow me to share some familiar, and maybe not so familiar ones with you.

When I first wrote this piece, there had been one hundred ten million, thirteen thousand eight hundred forty-one cases of COVID-19 across the world. Global deaths were two million, four hundred thirty-two thousand six hundred ninety-five. In the United States, we had twenty-seven million, eight hundred twenty-eight thousand one hundred fifty of these cases, and four hundred ninety thousand, seven hundred eighteen deaths. Of course, the numbers have only grown since that time.

The monster winter storm that engulfed the United States from Texas to the northeast resulted in four million without power in Texas alone, and forty deaths across the land. By Thursday of that week, FEMA had already distributed seven hundred twenty-nine thousand liters of water, fifty thousand cotton blankets and two hundred twenty-five thousand meals.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, forty one percent of adults surveyed in January 2021 had some degree of anxiety and depression, up from 11 per cent in January through June of 2019. Thirty six percent of those questioned related poor sleep, and thirty-two had appetite changes. Up to fifty-six per cent of young adults ages 18-24 had been battling depression and anxiety.

Did you see how I wrote all these numbers out in words? Why? Because it takes you longer to read out each word, to really process what the sheer numbers mean, than if you see another in a long string of mind-blowingly large figures. The numbers do not lie. We see them, day after day after day, but my fear is that we are becoming more and more (un) comfortably numb to them.

It is easy to develop compassion fatigue in times like these. There is so much hurt and fear and pain and need and stress in our world right now that it is easy for us to develop emotional numbness to these massive threats to our daily way of life. Compassion fatigue is that indifference to charitable appeals on behalf of those who are suffering, experienced as a result of the frequency or number of such appeals. It comes in no small part from actually absorbing into ourselves the trauma and emotional stress of others, leading to a vicarious pain and discomfort that become a secondary trauma to the caregiver or helper.

How does it manifest? Physical and emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, irritability (raising my hand here), self-contempt, decreased sleep, weight loss (or gain in some), and headaches are just a few of the signs and symptoms you might find yourself experiencing during these very troubled times.

How might it affect your ability to function at your best daily? You might be trying harder but find yourself helping less. You might give up, feeling that the stresses in the world are so huge right now that there is nothing one person can do. You might find yourself coping by using alcohol, drugs, or food to self soothe. Small, nagging physical symptoms might worsen into actual illness.

How do you decrease emotional numbness?

Reconnect with the world, with your world. Find a way to reach out and connect locally, nationally or internationally as you feel might be most helpful.

Practice good self-care. This is not the time to back off good pandemic hygiene, good patterns of eating and sleeping, or your usual exercise routine. It is time to double down on these things that make us healthy and keep us happy. I have recently started meditating, having never done it and knowing absolutely nothing about it. I have been amazed at how a brief ten-to-twenty-minute meditation practice session can put me back in the game. Learn something new. I recently listened to a chapter in Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s book Keep Sharp that talked about learning a new language or something equally as challenging. I was heartened to hear him say that it is not impossible to learn these difficult new things as we age, though it might take a little longer than when we were younger. Give yourself the grace to try, to do, and to succeed. We are making history just by surviving in this one-hundred-year pandemic!

Take time with family and friends when you can do so safely and practically. We need social interaction, as discussed here before. We just need to realize that continued vigilance is necessary until we can see the true end of the pandemic approaching.

Write in a journal. As you know if you have been reading my columns and blog posts for long, I love to write. I write in small notebooks, large notebooks, software programs, on Post-It notes, and on the back of envelopes. Our thoughts jotted down on paper or converted to ones and zeros in an app somewhere will be the primary sources for someone who one day writes the definitive history of this pandemic. Think about that and contribute.

I’ve borrowed from Mother Teresa before, and I will do it again to close these thoughts for the week.

“We cannot all do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”