Focus
By Kavi Deo
Artwork created by Michelle Kondrich for “Is empathy overrated?”
In her book Comfortable with Uncertainty, Pema Chodron asks us to look beyond our own personal feelings, and out into the world; when you’re feeling poorly, breathe in, and think of every person who must be feeling the same way that you are. Hold your breath, and hope that everyone’s suffering goes away. Breathe out, and offer your best wisdom to your fellow beings, and you’ll find something to offer yourself.
It’s safe to say that I’m depressed. I have to wonder if everyone’s depressed, having spent at least six months in the midst of a global pandemic, climate change, political turmoil. The conflict is big and small and ever-present.
I’m staying with my parents because I have nowhere else to go. I’m isolated from my chosen family, forced to confront the old resentments and traumas that I thought I left behind. It took me three years to learn how to love myself enough to stand up for what I wanted, and now I’m back to being paralyzed. I want to deal with that. But the thing is, my story feels comparatively meaningless in the face of everything else.
I’ve been running through the refrains in my head since the moment I got here: I’m very lucky to have a family that I can stay with. I’m lucky to have a room and a laptop and air conditioning. I don’t have to worry about losing those things right now—not everyone can say the same. We’re in a pandemic. People are dealing with a lot right now. It feels selfish to focus on my problems, but it’s also hard to focus on everything else. Everything demands attention.
In my bedroom with the unmade bed and the piles of laundry and the bits and pieces of unfinished art projects, I breathe in. I think of all of us who are feeling stuck in the world. I think of the frustration and hurt and anger we feel at a global pandemic that pushed us away from the people that gave us the most support. When I left the apartment that I could no longer afford, I joined the ten percent of young adults who did the same. A friend of mine from school, Jessica, joins the 10.9 million Americans who aren’t sure whether or not they’ll be able to afford rent next month. The pandemic has seen a rise in depression symptoms by a threefold. Thirty million unmade beds.
I hold my breath. I want it to get better for us. I want all of us to find food and shelter and stability. I want us to stop having panic attacks every other morning, to stop being afraid of everything falling apart. I want us all to find the strength to go outside and to talk to our therapists. I want us to live in a world where we don’t have to worry about basic necessities.
I don’t know your life, and you don’t know mine. But I like to think we know each other's feelings, because I’ve sat with fear and uncertainty and helplessness every day of this pandemic. Maybe you’ve sat with something else, or something more, but I think we can still understand one another. So you should know that you’re not alone. And you should also know that I send you strength and love. Please, take it a day at a time.
I breathe out.
Kavi Deo is a diaspora Indian who was raised in a family defined by conformity to the rules. As a 21-year-old, queer, non-binary person, they still find themselves wrestling with hegemony. Kavi recently graduated from George Washington University with a BA in Political Science and is currently pursuing a MPH in Health Promotion. Having worked in a variety of non-profit, activist, and educational spaces, they hope to give every person the fighting chance to help the world become a better, more accepting place.