What a crazy time we’ve endured of late.
With the ceasefire, albeit wobbly but in place, it has been great to try to sleep without one ear listening for the sound of sirens, and without looking for possible safe places to run to when on the road. However, we are far from being out of the woods. No shortage of concerns in terms of our beloved hostages, evacuees, and all of our soldiers and their families.
Nonetheless, we have to be in this moment, appreciating with tremendous gratitude every single tiny bit of good that we see. There are many.
With my husband about to celebrate a special birthday, he not infrequently says quite emphatically, “We are old.” I reply strongly with “We? I am not old. I am getting older, as is everyone, but I am not old.”
At what age is one actually old? Old or older – there is a big difference, and our approach to life in general reflects this. While my husband is the predictable pessimist, I am the annoying optimist.
That said, one of my more upbeat clients came into the office recently and spontaneously said, “We have all aged this year.”
Let’s be honest: It is really not just this year. Add COVID to this horrific war, and we can see that the last five years have been very difficult for just about every one of us, and the suffering has been enormous. We are all carrying a heavy load.
As I look around, I see that in many ways my client is correct. People are heavier, more exhausted, have deeper facial wrinkles and more gray hair, and definitely are experiencing more health issues, burnout, and stress.
We are sadly showing signs of wear and tear, both on the inside and outside. Not yet old, we really are all older.With no place yet to really escape – we are in our beloved country, and not wanted or feeling safe elsewhere – I am left wondering, Where are we meant to be? And are we even meant to feel comfortable?
Perhaps not, given all of the chaos we have experienced. What meaning are we to derive from this extremely difficult time in our lives?
Surprisingly, we continue to rank fifth in happiness when compared to the rest of the world.
How can this be when many of us have been and continue to be seemingly quite miserable? How do we explain this disconnect? How can we be simultaneously both miserable and happy?
I believe I may have the answer
We are in the middle, and hoping desperately to soon be at the end of, the war. We can’t yet be happy.
However, the war has enabled us to begin to search on a deeper level for meaning and a greater sense of purpose. Finding meaning in the small things – be it our actions, our work, and in our connectedness to our family, loved ones, and friends – is huge. The sense of unity and cohesiveness when we have been fighting so valiantly for everything we hold so dear has given us strength as individuals, as a greater community, and as a country.
We have reached out to help each other and can be incredibly proud of all that we have accomplished in the past year, as well as all that we have learned. It is enormous. It continues to be a work in progress, and each one of us plays an extremely important role.
Now more than ever, we must hold on to this going forward. The question is, how? We must see ourselves as important pioneers in this project.
One place to start may be to examine our work/play balance. For years I have suggested that a four-and-a-half day work week in our heavily stressed country is essential for our emotional well-being. Having the time to get out in nature and socialize, with a day off other than Shabbat, especially after the war, will help each of us begin to heal and perhaps strengthen who we want to be and how we see ourselves as we enter this next phase of our lives.One look at the drivers on the road suggests that we are not at all mindful, and the roads have become more dangerous than ever. Road rage has increased exponentially. People fail to put a blinker on to signal others when turning or dodging in between lanes, and they actually eat, shave, and apply makeup all while speeding up and weaving in between cars.
We cannot afford to lose our focus both figuratively and literally. We are preoccupied and multitasking and thus are not doing anything as well as we once did.
In addition, our phones have become huge distractions that take us away from those we love the most. People walk across the street with headphones on, looking at their phones and oblivious to the outside world. Screen time in families has increased massively because parents are exhausted and need their own quiet time.
While standing in front of a cashier recently as she was processing my purchase, two people interrupted her to ask her a question without an apology or a thought that their actions may have been inappropriate. I don’t know whether I was more surprised by the customers’ behavior or that of the cashier, who stopped what she was doing to attend to their questions.
We have all become more impatient, but what has happened to our manners, replaced by a sense of entitlement? What values do we want to teach to our children, who absorb everything that we say and do? Are we simply so preoccupied that we are not aware of others?I refuse to believe that we don’t care.
OUR BELOVED reservists will hopefully return home soon and join their families who have worked so hard to keep the home front functioning. They need to know that we are so very proud of them.
We have to believe that our hostages and the evacuees will soon be back home where they belong, and we will continue to comfort those who have been wounded or lost loved ones. The war will end, and there will be a tomorrow.
They will all need our emotional and physical support more than ever as they attempt to reintegrate and feel connected after all they have been through. It will be a huge challenge.
It is definitely a changed world. By being there for one another, we will repair, rebuild, and be better and stronger than ever before. From the youngest to the oldest, we all need this.
Looking out for and after one another has been our greatest strength. United, we have cared for one another in ways never believed possible.
We are resilient, and we know that what is worth having is worth fighting for. As we work together in this beautiful country we call home, we will continue to rank high in both happiness and meaning.
Together we will succeed.
The writer is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Ra’anana, specializing in trauma, grief, and bereavement. The author of Life’s Journey: Exploring Relationships – Resolving Conflicts, she has written about psychology in The Jerusalem Post since 2000. ludman@netvision.net.il, drbatyaludman.com
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