Since I now work from my home office, my schedule has changed a bit. I see clients virtually [I’m a Mental Health Counselor and Marriage & Family Therapist], and at least for the foreseeable future, I won’t be facilitating any in-person COSP groups. So, with the extra time I have, I run. Headphones are a must, and the song that’s been on repeat most lately has a chorus that goes-
See I got GPS on my phone
And I can follow it to get home
If my location’s never unknown
Then tell me why I still feel lost
“Tell me why I still feel lost.” I did not expect these words to continue to echo in between my ears after returning from a recent run and passing my next door neighbor’s house. A woman and her husband live there who have both strictly and strategically quarantined themselves due to ultra-high-risk health concerns in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic. She has a new grandchild whom she adores and is publicly smitten with, and has been forced to distance from due to their own medical necessity.
From the point where our yards share a small Japanese Maple, I found my neighbor sitting on a mound of grass barely a few feet from the little one she had, until this moment, distanced from and longed for (the actual distance described here may be better described in mere inches, though to my neighbor I believe may as well have felt like 300 miles). My neighbor was watching her granddaughter try to crawl, her gaze fixed on the little girl’s eyes. She attuned to every movement this little one made and expressed, but did not touch her.
Caught by this interaction and what that must have felt like for them both, a few days later, I took the opportunity to speak with her about that afternoon. “Can I ask what that was like”, I said. She replied: “You know when you first learn you can have more than one feeling at a time? It’s the perfect example of joy and sadness; being able to see her and knowing I can’t hold her. Like holding her and smooching her… I know this is such an important age for touch, and as a grandparent there is no getting that back”. She cried recalling this memory only a few days old, and added that she felt guilty for not being able to hold her granddaughter, or support the parents, even under her extreme risk.
I heard impossible longing in her story and how she told it. I offered empathy, and asked what she needed. She replied that she can’t have what she truly needs. It reminded me of parents I’ve had in COSP groups, and my own parents. As a COSP Facilitator, I couldn’t help but ask the question “Any idea what that was like for her?” She explained that it felt like her granddaughter didn’t know her like she usually does because it had been so long without interacting. Though, she thought, after a little while on the grass she felt more receptive again. She told me if there was one message she could send her little one it would be, “I’d be closer if I could, I just can’t risk it”.
I felt lost. I think my neighbor felt lost, her granddaughter too. What was that day in the grass like for the girl, and where did she go on the Circle? How does my neighbor resolve her longing and not having her Hands on the Circle (at least in the physical sense)? I reflected on my neighbor’s guilt, and how hard it must be to feel that on top of everything else. I decided not to address the guilt. I thanked my neighbor and told her I appreciate her sharing with me, telling her what I saw was special.
Much like the GPS we have on our phones described in the song, COSP is my road map. With the onset of COVID-19 and the continuing changes in and around us, moments like what I experienced still leave me asking why I feel lost. Like my neighbor in the grass with her granddaughter, I miss in-person facilitation, and wonder what virtual facilitation would be like, and what would still be longed for.
Registered COSP Facilitator, Spokane Washington
I invite you to share with me your comments, reflections, Circle stories and experiences with Circle of Security Parenting. Your submissions may be used in future blog posts, with all identifying information excluded, unless you specifically request to be identified. Contact me at brooke[at]circleofsecurityinternational[dot]com
