Cooties

I think I know how Carol felt in Grade One.  She had cooties.  The moment her shabby, too tight running shoes hit the tarmac the entire population of primary students abandoned their playground activities and rushed away.  A herd of antelopes running for their lives as a hungry lion appeared on the horizon.  Only Carol wasn’t a lion.  She was a poor sweet child.  I cannot imagine her confusion and sadness as day after day her wee heart faced rejection and ridicule.  I didn’t consider that at the time.  I was five.

Just the other day, I was walking down the sidewalk enjoying the scent of freshly cut grass and spotted a man mowing the boulevard.  As I approached, he let go of his lawnmower, and (to protect himself from me), moved onto the road affording me a wide berth as I passed.

The bitter sting of rejection slapped me in the face.  I was shocked.  I wasn’t coughing, had recently showered (took a quick account of this in my head to make sure) and I don’t have cooties.  But then, neither did Carol.

That familiar sense of rejection has cropped up in my brain often in recent days.  Folks cross the street to pass and even close friends need to keep their social distance.  Strangers are quick to display their disapproval of others’ choices and if you accidentally find yourself walking the wrong way down the store aisle (there were arrows?) you are sure to receive some nasty glances.

In a 2010 study called “Humans are Hardwired for Connection,” researchers found the area that lit up in the brain as a result of social rejection—the anterior cingulate—was the exact same area that lights up for the distress of physical pain. Dr. Amy Banks pointed out that the distress of social pain is biologically identical to the distress of physical pain

This is hard stuff.  The pain is real and this new normal of social interactions is not ending soon.  Can you relate?

Here is what we need to remember.  These actions, reactions or choices are not directed at us. We have no way of knowing the story of other people and they don’t always know ours.  I have friends who have lost loved ones to this virus and are forced to grieve in a new way without family huddled around. Others are enduring chemo treatments along with a host of other vulnerabilities.  Some have autistic kids and this total break from routine is debilitating at best. Some people are living with a spouse who hates them and constant conflict at home is beyond belief.  And to top it all off, we must consider mental health. Depression and fear itself are huge issues and we have barely begun to see the devastating effects of this.

Instead of taking this rejection personally, of being offended and holding this inside, let’s decide to let it go.  I will give up my little pity party (I can’t invite anyone anyway – Covid.)  These are difficult times indeed for every single one of us, in different ways. We all want things to return to normal.  We want to hug our grandkids and you want to send your children back to school.

But until then, I am going to support other people.  If they make different choices than me, I want to accept that, not take it personally and remember that each one of us is making our best choice with our unique situation. 

And listen, sister, we CAN control our thinking which will change how we feel. We can choose a different thought.  Every single time I feel rejected, I’m going to stop and remember this is a feeling, not truth. The truth is that I am chosen and loved by God. And I’ll be thankful that I am able to help that person feel safe.   Showering is still advisable.
♥ Tess

Colossians 3:12 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.