Becoming Social Again & Our Hannah

Yesterday we took Hannah’s car in to the shop to get it repaired. Apparently, the heater core was beginning to leak. We haven’t gotten out too much these past few days. With all that has happened, seeing people and getting back into “normal life” is really not something that is easy for us to do. It feels like the things we have just experienced are so big and unrelatable to most people, that social interactions are just awkward. Nothing really seems worth talking about, but also very few could even understand what we have seen and felt. But, once again, I am reminded that people are different. We have heard from some who feel that they need that “in person” connection with others to help them heal. They need the face-to-face conversation, the physical interaction, and maybe a hug. This helps them to feel supported by others, so returning to “normal life”, socially, comes quicker. Some, however, are on the opposite spectrum. They need time to themselves. They need to almost be in complete isolation while they process things internally. They need time to let it all sink in and come to some semblance of “peace” or at least acceptance of the situation. Rather than needing others to aid them in bolstering their strength, they need to have that strength restored, first, in order to be able to face people again.

A couple years ago, we got a small pet. We named him Ned. Ned is a tortoise. He sleeps a lot but then walks around his habitat for exercise. He loves bath time and tall green salads. Ned is used to the activity and noise of our home and seems to be completely comfortable just doing his thing. When we have company, however, he hides more and is far more cautious. Of course, a tortoise isn’t your average pet, and people want to see him, talk to him, or even hold him. Being by nature a shy creature, Ned will pull himself back into his shell until he feels comfortable with things, then he slowly and cautiously emerges to see what is going on once he feels confident that danger has passed. I think that in some ways, many of us are a little like Ned at these times. Too much stimulation from others can drive us back into our “shells”. This may seem irrational to those who need to feel and experience the socialness of others, but if they pay attention, they will likely see that person who they are trying to encourage may become quieter and more withdrawn as conversation continues. Neither one of these approaches to healing is bad, as long as perpetual denial is not taking place. This is just another way in which we are individually different, but also something to be aware of as we try to help others. When trying to reach out and help, be aware of the type of person that you are dealing with. If you are greeted with open conversation and a warm embrace, then you are probably talking to someone who needs your support, but if there is coldness, distance, and periods of silence, then, perhaps, respecting the person would require a little more distance and a little more time. As with Ned, he will come out when he feels comfortable, but tapping on his shell will only drive him deeper inside, and then it will take him even longer to “come back out”. But then again, on the opposite side, holding someone back from socializing may also not be good. Being sensitive to the needs of others begins with understanding the other person, adapting our approach, and then being patient. Sometimes being kind means respecting the distance and other times it may mean reaching out. We are not all the same.

Yesterday we reread a “thank you” card from Hannah, to us, that she left just before going to college. It was, of course, a touching note of appreciation for the things that we did for her. Although hard to read now, it is also such a blessing that we were able to have had the time and relationship that we did with her. At the end, she signed it, “Your Hannah”. Although there are many people with the same name, she was proud to identify herself as ours! We are even more proud to call her ours as well!

We are blessed.