Opinion: Finding a safe space in a world filled with anguish and anger

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“How are you feeling?” This usually banal question has taken on more relevance as emotional tremors are rumbling through our souls like earthquakes. Images and stories of unimaginable violence in different parts of the world shake us out of our usual slumber. Sure, the climate, the war in Ukraine and sundry political conflicts find space in our minds, but the emotional upheaval caused by the turmoil in the Middle East has felt like a virulent, psychological pathogen, a pandemic of emotional distress.

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Like COVID, emotional trembler symptoms vary: anguish, despair, anger, sympathy, helplessness, rage. Each of us responds in our own way. At the geopolitical level, we take sides; we passionately root for the “good guys” while angrily condemning the other side, we sympathize with the suffering victims, we empathize with the needs and goals of our team and we look on desperately, frantically hoping that the violence will end and the Middle East will look the way we want.

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There are no masks we can wear both to protect ourselves and to prevent the spread of our inner turmoil. We could tune out, stop watching TV, ignore our social media feeds, read only the entertainment and sports sections in our newspapers, but burying one’s head in the sand doesn’t offer much protection in an earthquake. Patients, colleagues, friends, family, even the proprietor of a local dépanneur have told me they have lost sleep agonizing about events thousands of miles away.

While earthquakes cause plates to fall, sidewalks to crack and buildings to crumble, the recurrent in-your-face exposure to man-made catastrophe shakes the foundation of our sense of self. The consequences vary. Anger leads some to sign petitions, others to march in raucous, flag-waving demonstrations and many to engage in rage-filled arguments only to have relationships end. Despair results from reading too many opinion articles or engaging in “doomsday” conversations. When our despair metastasizes into hopelessness we can easily sink into clinical depression.

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For many of us, anguish is the tremor shaking our emotional foundation. It’s the unremitting feeling of dread, the sense that something ominous and unpredictable is on the horizon. We feel it in our bones, yet can’t adequately describe what it is that we feel or why we’re feeling it. When I ask patients about what they’re feeling, the common answer is: “I don’t know, but I feel awful.”

For many of us, these emotional reactions are new and unsettling. But it’s no wonder. People are shot, bombed, starved, held hostage and mourn in our very living rooms thanks to our interconnected world. And for many of us, passions fuelled by ethnic or religious affiliations make it easy to identify with one side or the other. It’s much harder to acknowledge the aspirations of both.

Suggestions for coping range from meditation to exercise, from psychotherapy to medication, from writing letters to politicians to putting flags in windows. Yes, strategies are good. But most important is to recognize that we are not alone; we are all standing on shaky ground. Empathy will go a long way. We are less likely to fall if we hold onto each other. Our relationships with family, friends and community organizations can all be strengthened, while they, in turn, can provide a place of security and comfort as we await the last aftershock.

Gerald Wiviott is a psychiatrist affiliated with the McGill University Health Centre.

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