My psychologist tells me it sounds like I need to be heard. It’s not the first time she has said this to me; is this perchance why I write? Maybe.
Mental health is a tricky thing. I’ve been thinking about it a lot more lately.
One of the unintended consequences of being polyamorous is that it forces you to face your demons. More people involved means more communication to make it work and more questioning of ingrained assumptions being made.
For me, so far one of my issues that I’ve had to face with more open eyes is that I don’t experience jealousy. No really, I don’t. A recent experience tested that theory: an acquaintance got their breast reduction surgery. I have wanted that surgery since high school and am (finally!) in the agonizingly slow process of getting it done. Let me tell you: if I can’t muster up a single jealous thought or ounce of jealous feeling about them getting their surgery before me (and I can’t), nothing else will.
Not feeling jealousy may not sound like a bad thing – and indeed it is often represented as the ideal others should strive for within the polyamorous community. But why don’t I feel jealousy? I feel that it is a symptom of an avoidant attachment style. Meaning I struggle with relying on others to the degree that I’ll be hurt if I lose them. In Buddhism, this would be touted as a good thing. After all, the way to enlightenment is to not have any attachments, is it not? But then, science tells us that children do not do well when they have no attachment figures in their life. Children in lonely orphanages have in fact died from seemingly no other source than a lack of physical touch1. We need attachments to survive, let alone thrive.
So I ask, is a lack of jealousy really a good thing? Particularly when it means that you can’t relate to those (the majority) who feel it. And when society teaches us that you don’t really love somebody if you don’t ever feel possessively jealous about them.
Okay; that last one is society’s problem, not mine.
Speaking of society’s problems and mental health, I’ve been feeling a bit depressive lately over covid. Specifically, from testing positive for covid for the first time this pandemic. It’s been rough. Not hospitalization rough, but paramedics to the house and hours spent in the emergency rough. And dragging on for weeks rough, with new or worsening symptoms every 24-36 hours for the first two weeks. Not able to do the things that keep me functional with my other chronic issues and will directly cause weeks to regain that lost functionality kinda rough.
As an immunocompromised person, having a rougher time of it was entirely predictable and I’m grateful it hasn’t been worse. I’m especially grateful that it took over two years for me to catch it, giving me time to be vaccinated and boosted, plus giving the virus time to mutate to be less deadly. But I’m also furious. Furious that the pandemic wasn’t squashed earlier. Furious that people forget we’re even still in a pandemic when so very many vulnerable people are too at risk to even get their own groceries or see friends. Furious that people won’t care for the wellbeing of the most vulnerable in society. Furious that people won’t even worry about protecting themselves from getting long covid, effectively making themselves disabled with one infection. Surely they are aware that hardly anyone keeps the interests of people who are disabled top of mind. A healthy individual not getting covid is not just about protecting the people who are vulnerable, it’s about giving them better odds at not becoming one of us.2
It’s natural to think you’ll win the odds. Even when I first got sick with covid, I felt inexplicably confident that it wouldn’t get too bad for me despite my health history.
And to the many, many people who have become newly disabled since the pandemic started: welcome. We’re generally a kind group who are oh so very tired and sad of dealing with the bullshit but also good about helping each other out as best we can. And it’s okay to be angry on arrival; we’ve all been there. I promise, it’s not all bad. Try to find the silver linings. You might learn to appreciate gallows humour! You might learn how to slow down and kick those workaholic habits. You might get into mindfulness. You might meet new and interesting people while quickly weeding out fair weather friends. You might learn to allow yourself more grace for your bad days.
To be clear, these benefits do not outweigh the costs. Not just the cost to health, wellbeing, personal relationships, and the like; it is expensive being ill!! Even in a country with public health care, many expenses aren’t covered and your income is likely to plummet. We desperately need a basic income to be a legacy of this pandemic. That could be a silver lining from all of this. Many of our current social nets were created because of the world wars, why not create a similar lasting legacy from tragedy?
In the meantime, it’s no wonder we struggle to be heard and get angry about it.
1 https://www.evergreenpsychotherapycenter.com/importance-touch/
2To be clear, I am angry at society in the way feminist are angry at the patriarchy; I am not mad at the individuals so much as the environment that has made it so.
Time Well Spent 