A couple of months into isolation, some of us are noticing a paradoxical experience with respect to our needs for personal connection. On the one hand, the prolonged separation from friends and loved ones has created a kind of loneliness that some have never felt before. On the other hand, our nuclear family is cooped up with maybe too much time together, and possibly, with fewer healthy boundaries than before.
In the third part of our series, we’re going to examine this challenge through the lens of Optimal Brain Growth and consider: 1) why connection is so important for the human brain, and 2) how we can support our brains’ need for healthy connection during this unusual time of being isolated at home.
It seems that for many of us, this paradoxical combination of “too much time at home together” and “too much time away from others” is taking a toll on people’s ability to maintain a healthy sense of connection.
For me, two factors have really challenged my feelings of connection. First is that my family and I rely on a solid social network for support and inspiration. When things are good, we celebrate together, and when things are not so good, we find ways to grieve. The point is that our brains not only thrive but also cope in bursts of bonding hormones and neurotransmitters that modulate our behavior (oxytocin allows parents and infants to bond, and dopamine affects our emotions and body movements). As we ride the ups and downs of life closely surrounded by loved ones, our voices, faces, scents and touch stimulate cascades of biochemical responses in one another. Our brains source the deep well of connection for cellular fuel as we interact in real time. But these daily interactions have implications for our long-term health, too: for example, oxytocin and dopamine affect the immune system.
In the absence of important sensory inputs that identify our loved ones and signal close connection, we can experience a high degree of stress (resulting in a cascade of stress hormones which affect our moods--and also our immunity). Approaching eight weeks of isolation, I observed in myself a significant drop in my sense of connection--especially physical connection--outside of my nuclear family, and the experience has been intense enough to remind me of postpartum depression. Although I have a very strongly cultivated emotional connection to my larger network, my brain requires close physical connection, in the form of hugs, eye gaze, the harmonics of the voice, and whatever energetic sensations we typically describe in our loved ones as “warmth”. My well of connection is deep, but the prolonged deprivation of this type of closeness is wearing on me.
The second reason that this period of isolation is taking a toll on healthy connection, for me, is that my family relies on quality time together… and quality time apart. Since isolating at home, we have much more time together than we used to, and I am grateful for that degree of safety and predictability. But not only does being confined at home together place unprecedented burdens on work and learning for the family, it also creates an enormous stress on our sense of personal boundaries, both physical and emotional.
What once was my home office is now my husband’s full-time office, and I’m on nearly full-time child care (a role that I relished for the first three years of my firstborn’s life, but wasn’t prepared to relish right now). The gentle but dedicated work that I was doing to nurture my younger child’s sense of autonomy and independence, and thus gradually relieve his intense dependence on me, came to a halt when he could no longer walk proudly down the school hallway to his classroom. Now he has 24-hour access to me, and the single hardest aspect of this constant presence for me is not that I can’t get my work done, nor that he’s too young for almost any kind of online activity; it’s that I can’t get a break from the relentless physical and emotional connection with my family.
The result of this bizarre combination of being separated from so many loved ones, while being cooped up and boundary-less with the family at home, can be a breakdown in our sense of healthy connection. The fact that this is not sustainable is evidenced by the wealth of articles on the long-term effects of the pandemic on people’s mental health, sometimes with special attention to parents and children.
So, what do we do to preserve healthy forms of connection? I want to offer two suggestions based on the framework of Optimal Brain Growth.
The first suggestion is to remember that the brain relies on sensory input from our loved ones, and to get that sensory input in ways that are possible without overwhelming the nervous system. There is currently a heavy reliance on video calls, which are a wonderful technology (especially for grandparents to interact with the grandchildren!) But many people have also noticed the strain of so many video or conference calls, especially if they are also used for work or distance learning.
What I have done to mediate this effect is return to some traditional habits of communication and connection: phone calls, and mail. On a phone call, my visual brain is not taxed by the demands of the screen, and my attention is not distracted by other aspects of the virtual environment; I’m simply present with the sound of the voice that I needed to hear. So while we regularly have video calls with the grandparents, I need regular phone calls with my family and friends to give my brain the message that it can relax, because we are, indeed, connected. Phone calls might be very helpful for some older children and adolescents (I for one can recall endless hours on the phone with my good friends as a teenager. Those hours served me well).
Mail is largely for the children--they create hand-written letters for their grandparents, friends, and even their teachers (yes, we are mailing postal letters to the school teachers). This is of course an exercise in written communication, but the letters they receive are also a very personal and tangible reminder of their love and connection. (Upon receiving a package from my mother, both kids screamed with delight, and my daughter immediately exclaimed as she hugged her gift happily, “It smells like Grammy’s house!”)
My second suggestion is to take small actions to protect your own personal boundaries--and to respect your children’s. I may not have an office currently, but I have designated a tiny space where I routinely go to work undisturbed. (We live in a small row home, so this space is literally a corner of my children’s room). The boundary that I needed to set is the understanding that when I’m in that room working, I’m not to be disturbed. Everyone is clear on this, and no one has trouble respecting it.
What I’ve noticed about my children’s boundaries is that they both require time apart from each other, and moments of time alone with each parent. Despite the many ways we have adapted our routine, we have preserved our habit of spending some weekend or evening time in parent-child pairs, to support each child’s own needs for connection with us. In addition, we try to meet the challenge of nurturing their individual needs and struggles with boundaries. Our older child needs time to herself and so she goes on walks on her own twice per day. In contrast, our younger child struggles with separation from us, even inside the home, and so we must work each and every day to help him build the necessary skills of autonomy to engage in his own meaningful activity, and promote his long-term growth.
The paradox of connection is not new, but never in our generation’s lifetime has it been more exposed or heightened than it is now. We can think about healthy connection as a skill set. The skills include the ability to seek out the sensory signals that let the brain know we are connected to loved ones without overloading the nervous system, and the ability to take actions, however small, to protect personal boundaries. Our success at maintaining healthy forms of connection will affect our family’s wellbeing during the pandemic, and support long-term Optimal Brain Growth.