Disconnect…to Reconnect

Disconnect….to reconnect

We are pros at disconnection, aren’t we?  Checking out, numbing out, narcotizing, falling asleep to our lives...this coping mechanism, while necessary at times, has become our go-to stance in dealing with our messy lives.

We read about practices of being present, mindfulness, and finding balance. And we all want that. But sometimes, it feels just… too hard.

And it leads me to believe that there is a time and a place for disconnection. A type of disconnection which could actually lead to growth.

We aren’t meant to be “on” all the time. To be paying attention all the time. But we’re also not meant to check out from our lives all the time, either. 

My husband and I both deal with depression.  While mine has mostly resolved over the past few years, his ebbs and flows.  Recently, an accident on the job spun him into that place of anger turned inward and quiet, sullen broodiness.

It threatened to pull me under, too.

I have a vibrant career as a therapist and speaker.  My days are typically filled with meaningful connection, conversations that matter, and an overall sense of purpose. But I’m not invincible. When these seasons of depression loom large over my spouse, it’s hard for me to walk through it unscathed as well.

Lethargy. Powerlessness. Weariness.

They threaten to overtake me at times.  

I can easily slide into disconnection, as I did this winter when the world was cold and sleeping. My soul became sleepy. I got stuck scrolling Facebook and Instagram, bingeing shows on the Firestick, and ignoring everything else.  

You know the drill.

But nothing is worse than a sleepy soul.

Eventually, as I usually do, I became sick of myself and began to right my course, partly out of necessity, partly out of disgust at how far down the path I’d wandered. And it was tempting to run straight ahead at plans, productivity, and projects.

Let’s accomplish something!

That always makes me feel good, right?

Do you see the direction that’s going? In lethargy and checking out, I ignore my sleepy soul, and let the drone of social media and This Is Us create the soundtrack of my days. But if I miss my soul on that end of the spectrum, I’ll also miss my soul on the opposite end of productivity. I disguise productivity for soul-strength. 

Why must we tend towards extremes?

Lethargy or hyperproductivity.

Legalism or licentiousness.

Frugality or extravagance.

When the days are full and the nights are bleak, weariness sets in and if I’m not careful, I allow it to dictate my mood, my trajectory, and my self-talk, shaming myself into shape.

But our response doesn’t always have to embrace an extreme.

What if we could allow ourselves the grace to disconnect...and grieve?

What if the break we need from the stress and messiness of our complicated lives could actually bring our purpose and growth?

But, grief….really?

It’s not a popular word.  No one really likes grieving.

I can almost predict the blank stares on my clients’ faces as I talk to them about grieving the loss of a meaningful childhood relationship with a parent who was there, but wasn’t really there… or the way a family secret pitted siblings against each other, stealing years of relationship… or facing the reality of never having heard, “I love you” from their father before he died.

These scenarios are all deeply worthy of our grief.

But what about the less obvious wounds? Could I grieve my husband’s accident and the weeks of emotional vacancy that followed? What would that look like?

I’ll tell you what it looked like for the first few weeks.  Imagine two people in the same room, sitting 5 feet apart, but in two separate worlds.  Him, lost in the distraction of the glowing blue screen. Me, following suit, ‘cause I didn’t have the energy to do anything else. Day in, and day out. 

Sometimes, when we can’t muster up the motivation to move, we can give ourselves the grace to detach with love, and grieve.

I couldn’t continue to watch the same scene unfold, night after night. It brought me low. So I decided to detach, disconnect.  

But not with disgust or anger. (Although, let’s be honest, there were moments….)

I disconnected quietly, into my bedroom, with my pen and journal, and wrote out my woes to God on the fresh page before me. I allowed the feelings of abandonment and anger to surface.  I let them be what they were. 

And I felt reconnected...with myself….reconnected in a way that told me I would be able to enter into the mess another day. 

No promise of relief, but a promise of Presence, of manna for today.

Grief has the ability to produce profound gifts… compassion where there had been contempt; sorrow where there was hatred; repentance where only blame existed; a softened heart where once there was a heart of stone.

Grief has the power to reconnect us with God, ourselves, and others. It doesn’t have to be a big, scary awful monster of an emotion. It won’t take you out. 

It’ll lead you back home. 

Ezekiel 36:26

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. [NIV]