I've been having some deep feelings lately about what I am here for and how much of my energy should be invested in myself vs. those around me.
I am constantly seeking a community that supports me and that I can support.
My family as a unit feels like a lost cause, but I still try to be there for my brother and my older sister.
My mom, although I feel that she doesn't speak up when she should, I think believes deep down that she is doing her best. And I do too.
My father and my oldest sister? Narcissists. But human beings that, like all of us, are flawed.
I struggle with the balance of distancing myself from the energy of a screaming match ending in tears and a panic attack on Christmas Day. One that starts with my oldest sister calling me dumb repeatedly for a minor misstep. That is for my own self preservation.
But the collectivist and community-centered kumbaya bitch in me feels that they are my family and while they aren't perfect, we are all doing our very best with what we have at any moment.
Some of us would just do better with some therapy and more thoughtfulness in the things we said to one another.
How do I care for them AND myself? How do I reconcile the panic that I can't build a new family and community, while not neglecting the one I was born into because it's too hard?
Too messy?
I have made friends with classmates and have even sought out dating apps to make new friends (find me on Bumble BFF).
It isn't that I am introverted or not a friendly person. I am quite the opposite. But I want connection with people who are like-minded enough and interested in building long-term relationship.
But how do you manufacture that in adulthood, where there isn't an 8-hour school day or Orgo II exam studying in the dorms binding us together?
I know I'm not the first person in the world to express difficulty in developing friendships past college. It is just so hard living in a society that is so individualized, during a [freshly re-vamped] pandemic, and wanting to build community.
I know from the work that I've read about, listened to, and talked to others about, that with community, we have power. Power against the individualism, the despair, the loneliness, and the hopelessness. We see it in team sports, churches, civil organizations, and more.
But where can a broke grad student get that without invoking reminders of her religious trauma, that she's out of shape, and that government moves at a painful pace?
I started a group in my cohort where we gather via Zoom to talk about liberatory topics such as police and prison abolition, food justice, queer and LGBTQIA+ issues, and basically whatever we want. We have only met once in November, but I really do have hope for it to serve as, if nothing else, a space. A space for something to grow if watered.
A Vox article I read recently speaks about liberation and freedom movements in the '60s as part of an effort towards the ever-elusive concept of 'happiness'.
While for some of the white hippies, it might have sometimes been more about weed and going against 'the man', many other people, especially people of color and allies, used it as a collective movement to stand against injustice.
It then talks about how soon this was co-opted by corporations, institutions of learning, and politics leading into the '70s and '80s, turning those same hippies into Reagan voters.
This showed me a few things.
That our search for happiness, for better or for worse, takes place within the confines of our situation. In community health, we want everyone to have an opportunity to be healthy and financially stable, for example. But health or financial stability, is not the key to happiness. Just think about all the people that are happy with so little materially.
Okay, so then, I think, happiness is abundance. Abundance of family and laughter OR abundance of security. But people have both or one of those things still struggle with feeling joyful and happy.
So, then what? Well, if we define happiness outside of these standards, anyone can be happy. And that's the good news. Those experiencing homeless can be happy AND millionaires can be happy. Think of the things that make you happy. When things start looking up after a hard time, that joy you feel. Being able to make your loved ones proud, that is almost a universal source of happiness!
It's important to understand that happiness isn't final. It isn't omnipresent, always radiating around you like sun beams (despite that Roald Dahl quote).
Happiness is a choice in being able to look at the reality of your situation and find something good in it, something that is comforting in the sea of disappointments that life oftentimes is.
Now, no, this is not going to me preaching, "Poor people should be happy with what they have!"
This is actually the opposite.
People in our societies, across the world, deserve the same opportunities to feel those feelings I described above. Think of our lives as a balance. We should aim to maximize everyone's 'good' and help them cope with the unavoidable 'bad' (i.e. death, accidents, etc).
We live in a world that doesn't tip those scales equally and thus, we don't have equal opportunities for one of life's greatest gifts: happiness.
Sure, public health focuses on diseases, healthy eating, et cetera et cetera, but it all boils down to this truth: the more we care for the wellbeing of the community, the more we are ensuring greater universal access to happiness.
So what about those of us who consider ourselves 'middle class' or 'alright' (or 'struggling grad student donating plasma to pay for groceries')?
Well, I think what we miss is that feeling of community and support, only worsened by our newfound isolation the past few years. So much research (too much that it isn't even worth citing) reports on the positive effect of a support system on our mental health.
And if we are all searching for the same thing, why don't we help each other out?
All this being said, make an effort to connect with those around you. Build lasting relationships. I think it's what we're made for.
Cover photo illustrated by Wenzdai Figueroa
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