Feeling Discombobulated
As oddball words go, “discombobulated” has to be one of the oddest. It belongs to a family of equally zany words and phrases that includes off-kilter, non-plussed, wrong-footed, gob-smacked, squiffy, and flummoxed. The dictionary will tell you that discombobulated means to be in a state of confusion; disoriented; or disconcerted – (and that it may have first appeared in the New York Sun in 1834).
But whatever its etymological origins, we’re all feeling a little bit that way just now, aren’t we? Discombobulated, that is.
As a grief counselor, I could offer a learned description of numerous categories of grief that might apply to our current Covid-19 situation, with all of its lockdowns, social distancing and quarantines. Such a list would include anticipatory grief, disenfranchised grief, ambiguous grief and complicated grief - to name just four – but those don’t entirely cut the mustard.
Nor does the delicious French word “ennui” (a sort of listlessness), or the crisply Teutonic “weltschmerz” (world weariness) – although they both come close.
No. What we’re experiencing right now is a kind of culture shock.
And what a shock it is proving to be. Almost overnight, it seems, the everyday trappings of normality have been torn from us.
For many people, their jobs and therefore their financial security have either vanished, or are in serious jeopardy. The essence of their livelihood is in peril and with it, the essence of who they are.
Familiar routines have been turned upside down and dismantled. No more restaurant meals or trips to the local watering hole for a drink with friends. No more afternoons at the ball game or evenings at the theatre or cinema. No more travel for business or pleasure to far flung destinations. No hotel overnights or sight-seeing excursions or conference attendances.
And for our kids, no more school or playtime with chums.
And it’s there – in our social and family lives – where the restrictions hit hardest.
No one knew the phrase “social distancing” until a month or two ago. It had no meaning. And it’s truly unfortunate that the phrase was adopted without a second thought, because what was really needed was an understanding of the need for “physical distancing”. The physics of infection are pretty straightforward – droplets of moisture from an infected person’s upper respiratory tract will contain millions of tiny viruses, so if they cough or sneeze in your direction or onto a surface that you might touch, you could be in trouble if you don’t do anything about it, like persuading them to wear a mask, wearing a mask yourself, keeping your hands away from your face and thoroughly washing those hands as frequently as possible.
“Physical distancing” addresses that physical reality.
In my view, “social distancing” sounds more menacing.
And actually, I would argue that what we have been witnessing across the country has been a degree of social engagement, cooperation and collaboration that is far from “distant”. The degree to which communities have stepped up to support each other, and especially their weak or vulnerable members, has been inspiring. And the outpouring of appreciation for the medical and health professionals, the first responders, and all the other essential workers is something that I hope will last long after the pandemic has receded.
So “yay” to physical distancing, but “nay” to social distancing.
I sincerely hope that we don’t return to “normal”, if that means a return to mindless selfishness and a thoughtless disregard for the dignity and inalienable rights of our fellow citizens. But a new normal that has reprioritized what is important in a civil and civilized society might be rather nice. A new normal that is socially connected in ways that perhaps had been allowed to slide in our previous “me and mine” oriented society.