Broken Together
We can’t be ashamed to reach out for help. We’re never as alone as we think.
It was March 16, 2020—the first day of the lockdown—when my family doctor and I discussed my treatment for a previously diagnosed anxiety and panic disorder. I had been taking medicine for a year and, based on my improvement, we decided it was time to stop the medication. At that point, we barely knew what was about to happen, that we would spend a very long time at home, isolated, alone. We could not anticipate at that moment the consequences and impact of the pandemic, not only on my mental health but on a considerable part of our community and world.
Spring and early summer went well, and I thought I was free of anxiety for good. But around the end of the summer and beginning of the fall, with many things happening at the same time (my husband’s graduation and lack of job opportunities, our uncertain immigration process, work stress, isolation, etc.), I started to have some health issues. Although those problems were not directly related to my mental health, I realized it was my body telling me that something was not right. I started to learn a lot from Dr. Marco Antônio Abud, a Brazilian psychiatrist, on YouTube. I also decided to engage the weekly support of a Christian social worker.
For a couple of months, my sessions with the social worker were going pretty well, without anything out of the ordinary to discuss. But on November 11, around noon, I had an anxiety crisis. It was so intense that I knew I had to talk with someone. I googled “anxiety crisis phone,” and the first result was the Canada Suicide Prevention Service. I was not considering suicide, but the restlessness was so intense that I called them. I didn’t have to wait for more than a minute or two, and when the responder answered my call, I burst into tears. I told her that I needed help. She was very calm and kind, verifying that I was not intending suicide and calming me down. Then, she gave me the Ontario Services number, which provided a couple of other numbers, including the Distress Centre of Greater Toronto. That evening, I had to call them to get support again.
Although we’re not entirely sure of the pandemic’s effects on mental health outcomes, according to polling done by Ipsos, 56% of Canadians have felt increased stress and anxiety as a result of the pandemic. Among several potential causes for deteriorating mental health, 54% of respondents mentioned loneliness or isolation. As mental health professionals explain, loneliness is not necessarily a matter of circumstances. One can be surrounded by friends, committed to a loving marriage, raise children—and feel alone. Loneliness is a subjective feeling of being misunderstood and disconnected. We can feel alone in a crowded room. This feeling of isolation has been studied as a public health issue by some psychologists who have concluded that loneliness can have the same health impact as smoking fifteen cigarettes per day, including increased risk of heart disease, obesity, high blood pressure, anxiety, depression, and decreasing life expectancy.
The fact that feeling lonely causes us harm should not be a surprise, especially for Christians. In the Bible, togetherness is the ideal for God’s people. In creation history, when God saw it was not good for Adam to be alone, he made Eve. In salvation history, God chose Israel as his own people, beginning with Abraham whom God promised to make "the father of a multitude of nations.” Many, many centuries later, God made his family even bigger, grafting Gentiles into his family tree. As the Apostle Paul explains in Ephesians 2, through the death of Jesus Christ, “[God] united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross … creating in himself one new people from the two groups.” In one of his letters to the Corinthians, Paul compares this new family to a human body. We’re hands and feet, elbows and knees, joined to and belonging to one another. The Apostle Peter sounds this same note of unity. In one of his letters, he calls the church "living stones that God is building into his spiritual temple.” Thus, we can see that God’s plan for Adam (whose name, in Hebrew, can also mean humanity) was always for us to live in community.
As Christians, we might understand the theological and biblical importance of togetherness, but the prolonged time we have spent isolated during the COVID-19 pandemic has made it more difficult for us to reach out for help. Also, we have unlearned how to cultivate relationships. In terms of togetherness, we’re out of practice.
Although technology has allowed us to stay connected with family and friends, it has also given us the means for instant disconnection. We are losing the skills necessary for building resilient community. At the smallest sign of conflict, we have at our fingertips the opportunity to turn off our phones, ignore texts, avoid confrontation, even block the other person on social media. We are forgetting how to read facial microexpressions and interpret non-verbal communication. We are losing the habits of courtesy. We don't greet the cashier at the grocery store anymore nor help an elderly person reach a product on a high pharmacy shelf. We are afraid of giving directions to a stranger on the street, of running close to another person, of taking the elevator with our neighbour. At church, we have not been able to participate in the Lord's table, to sing together, to share what happened during our week or other specific aspects of our lives with our brothers and sisters, and pray for each other in person. These are real relational losses, and it will take concerted work to repair our relational skill (and will). So, in preparation for the pandemic’s end, we should decide if we will be broken apart or if we will stay broken together. Will we hide pain behind smiles or move towards healing as God’s people together?
Gratefully, my last session with the social worker was on March 11, 2021. She and I realized I was ready to continue my journey by myself after many months of therapy and treatment. I’m confident that I can do it, but I also know she will be there for me if I need to go back.
The pandemic has reminded me that we can’t be ashamed to reach out for help. We’re never as alone as we think. For all of us, as the pandemic wanes and physical togetherness is made possible again, we will have to be intentional and put forth some effort to reconnect. We can create empathic, trusting connections by showing our vulnerability. This will involve kindness and the practice of listening without judgment.
As a Christian, I firmly believe that the church can serve our city in this journey of rediscovering life together. When my husband and I arrived in Canada around four years ago, we searched for a church on our first weekend here—and found Grace Toronto. We knew that the church would be an essential piece for easily adapting to a new country. As members of a church, we would be able to live a community experience, get involved with our city and have a new family to support us, not only in our spiritual lives but also in the struggles that most immigrants face while settling down.
While I write this text in the spring of 2021, I cannot wait to be able to transform St. Helen's gymnasium into a place of worship for our congregation at Grace West, then quickly run to the kitchen to help my brothers and sisters prepare the Lord's table as well as coffee, tea, and snacks for after service. I cannot wait to help the nursery team once again at Grace Downtown, to meet the new babies and see those who aren’t babies anymore. I cannot wait to be with my brothers and sisters in faith, to see them in person, catch up and hug them. But the moment I'm longing for the most is to participate in the Lord's supper in community, in communion with my family in faith.
When we drink the cup and eat the bread together, we won’t have to pretend our pandemic year has been easy. But remembering our identity as Christ’s broken body, we can yet choose to be broken together.
Text: Renata Cunha
Photography: Wlad Figueiredo