Post Pandemic and The Loss of Intimacy
3/28/2020
When I was in my mid-20's I went to see a therapist in downtown San Francisco. Her office was just a short walk from mine. What I remember most about my time in therapy there was not was said between us, but rather what I felt being in that space.
The room felt intimate, the couch comfy. The space between me and her not too far. Natural light through the windows and a rug on the floor. More important was the emotional space. The difficult emotions that my therapist could hold for me while I was just trying to get it out. The reality of my situation that the therapist reflected back to me through her expression and energy. This space allowed for me to come face to face with more of the reality of my life. More truth.
Perhaps, it also felt intimate in that space because of the relative comparison to my office at the time. My office was about people facing away from each other and towards screens. People staring at Excel spreadsheets, keeping track of financial transactions. The whole environment felt that way; transactional. It felt hollow at its core. It felt meaningless.
So, to be able to walk into my therapist office in the middle of my day and sit on her couch felt good. Being there in that space felt healing and nourishing.
More than a decade later, I am now the therapist who sits in the chair and my patients sit on the couch across from me. I love it. Everything I’ve done over those years was about moving towards intimacy. I went from sitting on a trading desk keeping track of transactions to sitting on a chair from which I listen to my patients share with me the most meaningful aspects of their lives. Of their being. Of their core.
When I came to view the office space I currently use, it felt right. It felt cozy and it felt lived-in. The room had some character. It was homey. The office is situated in the middle of the building and therefore, feels like it’s in the heart of it. The color of the walls is warm and so is much of the furniture. The building itself is located in the center of the town, near its core.
Just as I was settling into the space and feeling more and more comfortable there, something happened. That something is still happening. A global pandemic. As a consequence, what I am missing the most right now is intimacy.
When I would see a patient, we would most often shake hands as we greeted one another and made eye contact. I miss this. When we would be in a session, I would naturally use my senses, intuition and perception to pick up on body language and energy. All of this was so valuable to me to understand what was being communicated to me. It was also what allowed me to do my work by expressing empathy, and to reflect the emotions involved in what was being discussed. It allowed me to truly try and be with someone where they were. And to hold the difficult emotions when they weren’t quite ready to hold it all themselves.
I miss all of this. I miss intimacy.
A few days ago, I approached my closet in preparation for my work day. I became sad and somewhat despondent when I realized that it didn’t matter what I would wear to work that day because although I was going to the office; I would be there alone. I would be having that day’s sessions over the phone. Later in the week I would also have sessions via video. That didn’t cheer me up much either.
On one hand I was grateful, that while we are in the middle of this pandemic we could still connect and carry on our work. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but feel what was lost; or perhaps reduced – intimacy. No handshakes, no cozy office, no eye contact; no two people in a space together. It is a wonderful thing to be human – to smile, to laugh, to cry, to express ourselves in all of our ways.
The video felt less connected to me than just the phone, but perhaps this is just because I am old school. It’s such a poor attempt at a substitute (as if there is one), looking at a lifeless screen instead of a real live human being.
The last thing our society needs in 2020 is more social distancing (while understanding the need for us all to adhere to it while we get through our pandemic). This is what technology and our ways of consuming it have already done for us. Over the last decade our society has become increasingly lonely, alienated and felt less intimate than we were pre-internet. Over the last two decades we moved from spending real time with each other to spending time with devices. Thus, I am sad that after all the effort to carve out a space in this increasingly distant world for simple coziness, warmth and meaningful connection, that it would suddenly be taken away.
Many people in society with powerful resources and a lack of appreciation for subjectivity have been pulling us in this direction of less direct human to human interaction and more human to technology interaction. The emotional intimacy of people truly being with one another cannot be replaced with anything. It is an expansive and unlimited experience that allows for humanity and life to flourish. It allows for transcendent experiences which are often subtle and precious. Literally being together is life itself.
A screen is artificial and lifeless. A human being is alive and natural. It concerns me that for some this substitute seems like no big deal. Many people even see the upside to ‘teletherapy.’ Me on the other hand, I miss the therapy without the ‘tele’ every day and that won’t stop until we are back in the space together. Let’s hold that space for each other.
I know, I know – it's effing old school.
3/28/2020
When I was in my mid-20's I went to see a therapist in downtown San Francisco. Her office was just a short walk from mine. What I remember most about my time in therapy there was not was said between us, but rather what I felt being in that space.
The room felt intimate, the couch comfy. The space between me and her not too far. Natural light through the windows and a rug on the floor. More important was the emotional space. The difficult emotions that my therapist could hold for me while I was just trying to get it out. The reality of my situation that the therapist reflected back to me through her expression and energy. This space allowed for me to come face to face with more of the reality of my life. More truth.
Perhaps, it also felt intimate in that space because of the relative comparison to my office at the time. My office was about people facing away from each other and towards screens. People staring at Excel spreadsheets, keeping track of financial transactions. The whole environment felt that way; transactional. It felt hollow at its core. It felt meaningless.
So, to be able to walk into my therapist office in the middle of my day and sit on her couch felt good. Being there in that space felt healing and nourishing.
More than a decade later, I am now the therapist who sits in the chair and my patients sit on the couch across from me. I love it. Everything I’ve done over those years was about moving towards intimacy. I went from sitting on a trading desk keeping track of transactions to sitting on a chair from which I listen to my patients share with me the most meaningful aspects of their lives. Of their being. Of their core.
When I came to view the office space I currently use, it felt right. It felt cozy and it felt lived-in. The room had some character. It was homey. The office is situated in the middle of the building and therefore, feels like it’s in the heart of it. The color of the walls is warm and so is much of the furniture. The building itself is located in the center of the town, near its core.
Just as I was settling into the space and feeling more and more comfortable there, something happened. That something is still happening. A global pandemic. As a consequence, what I am missing the most right now is intimacy.
When I would see a patient, we would most often shake hands as we greeted one another and made eye contact. I miss this. When we would be in a session, I would naturally use my senses, intuition and perception to pick up on body language and energy. All of this was so valuable to me to understand what was being communicated to me. It was also what allowed me to do my work by expressing empathy, and to reflect the emotions involved in what was being discussed. It allowed me to truly try and be with someone where they were. And to hold the difficult emotions when they weren’t quite ready to hold it all themselves.
I miss all of this. I miss intimacy.
A few days ago, I approached my closet in preparation for my work day. I became sad and somewhat despondent when I realized that it didn’t matter what I would wear to work that day because although I was going to the office; I would be there alone. I would be having that day’s sessions over the phone. Later in the week I would also have sessions via video. That didn’t cheer me up much either.
On one hand I was grateful, that while we are in the middle of this pandemic we could still connect and carry on our work. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but feel what was lost; or perhaps reduced – intimacy. No handshakes, no cozy office, no eye contact; no two people in a space together. It is a wonderful thing to be human – to smile, to laugh, to cry, to express ourselves in all of our ways.
The video felt less connected to me than just the phone, but perhaps this is just because I am old school. It’s such a poor attempt at a substitute (as if there is one), looking at a lifeless screen instead of a real live human being.
The last thing our society needs in 2020 is more social distancing (while understanding the need for us all to adhere to it while we get through our pandemic). This is what technology and our ways of consuming it have already done for us. Over the last decade our society has become increasingly lonely, alienated and felt less intimate than we were pre-internet. Over the last two decades we moved from spending real time with each other to spending time with devices. Thus, I am sad that after all the effort to carve out a space in this increasingly distant world for simple coziness, warmth and meaningful connection, that it would suddenly be taken away.
Many people in society with powerful resources and a lack of appreciation for subjectivity have been pulling us in this direction of less direct human to human interaction and more human to technology interaction. The emotional intimacy of people truly being with one another cannot be replaced with anything. It is an expansive and unlimited experience that allows for humanity and life to flourish. It allows for transcendent experiences which are often subtle and precious. Literally being together is life itself.
A screen is artificial and lifeless. A human being is alive and natural. It concerns me that for some this substitute seems like no big deal. Many people even see the upside to ‘teletherapy.’ Me on the other hand, I miss the therapy without the ‘tele’ every day and that won’t stop until we are back in the space together. Let’s hold that space for each other.
I know, I know – it's effing old school.
