Navigating a new world with pride and community
By Lee Ruggles
Some of us have come to the realization that we have always felt that we needed another person’s approval to validate our existence. It’s not a new thing brought on by today’s near isolation, but the solitude imposed by these restrictions has allowed us to face one of our life’s truths: our personal beliefs are more fluid than we thought. The concept of change, insight into our own unique character, understanding what motivates us slowly slips into our consciousness.
But addressing new ideas in the third person is comfortable. That becomes apparent as I put pen to paper and see not “some of us,” but I see myself.
It is startling at first, delving into my inner self, comforting the little girl in me who never quite felt a part of what seemed to be the real world. What’s changed? Well, age for one thing. A bit more than three quarters of a century has passed since I wailed my way into this world. Toddling down the dusty lane, getting lost between the tall rows of corn stalks, hearing my father call out “Little girl! Little girl! Where are you?” are etched into my memory.
Fast forward through the decades of life – love, family, deaths – good times and bad.
And here I am. Here we are. Sitting on the deck of the Star Ship Enterprise, Captain Kirk at the helm. Mr. Spock, representing so many mixed genetic beings.
That’s what it feels like. Smart phone. Smart tablet in hand. Looking out from my tiny space in the universe. Mostly alone, thanks to an otherworldly leech. No, not an Extra Terrestrial, but a lifeless lovely-looking virus. I have to admit, the special microscopes have shown this orb-like infinitesimally tiny creature with its wee suction cup-like projections to be beautiful enough to enlarge, frame, and hang on my living room wall.
That will never be the case. What this faux E.T. has successfully separated me from is those I hold dear as well as from my neighbors who have been a part of my life for the past thirty-four years.
The recent past (i.e. the last decade) has been rife with concerns – physical issues, emotional trauma, and retirement, not necessarily in that order, has taken its toll. Not surprisingly, I bounced back from all of that, not too much the worse for wear.
During all of this time I’ve learned that I don’t need another person’s approval to validate my existence. I need to help solve problems. “We have to do something about the flooding when the torrential summer rains come!” says the email from one of my neighbors. OK. Here’s what I’ll do. We’ll work with our neighbor, the retirement center. I call the administrator. I’ll get the information she’ll need for us to work out a mutually agreeable solution.
I’m aware of a lifting of my sense of aloneness. There’s a feeling of exhilaration, a slight bounce to my step.
I don’t need another person’s approval to validate my existence. I simply need to be needed.
Photo by Ryan Jacobson on Unsplash
