As we move cautiously or impetuously — depending on your perspective — toward a “new normal” in social interactions, many questions arise, and we sense that personal safety quickly comes into conflict with personal freedom. Put a different way, our need to work, shop, get gas, buy medicine, get a haircut or simply connect with others (a fundamental human need) feel as if they clash with another basic human need: self-preservation.

How do other people’s choices limit my own? How can I maintain an attitude of cordiality and respect toward strangers, yet still protect my loved ones and myself? Some have formed so-called
“COVID-19 bubbles” in an attempt to control their social contacts and guarantee their well-being to some extent. This is limiting, and in time, we will necessarily need to look beyond a small circle of close friends.

There are guidelines upon guidelines for everyone to reference and follow, but concretely, in any given situation, each one will have to follow their conscience and use good judgment. However, in addition to guidelines and good judgment, there is an element that could come into play, at an almost unconscious level, and that is worthy of consideration.

It’s vulnerability

September 11, 2001, taught us as a nation that we are not invulnerable. It was a tragic lesson, but one that we forgot relatively quickly. We adapted to calculating more time when we travel by air, and we actually welcomed the extra check because it gave us back a certain illusion of safety and control over our lives. Things returned to “normal” after some time. It was a new normal, of course, but we became comfortable with this way of living on a daily basis.

We erected monuments, we remember the date annually, and we recognize that this experience has made us stronger as a people and as a nation. We tried not to be suspicious of people with certain physical characteristics. Public service campaigns helped us, to a certain extent, and not everywhere, to be welcoming to those who are different from us. Gradually, we began to believe once again that we are not vulnerable.

Vulnerability is equivalent with weakness, and if there is one word that is not a welcome addition to our U.S. vocabulary, it is the concept of weakness. Feeling vulnerable or weak easily leads us to become defensive, to protect ourselves from a perceived threat, to react rather than act.

When we are afraid, unsure of ourselves, worried, or nervous, we want to find someone to blame and we try to find a way to regain control over our lives and our destiny.

COVID-19 and the pandemic it has caused make us feel very vulnerable. It is not an enemy that we can conquer by force or strength, or from which we can easily escape. It even seems to know how to outsmart the most powerful.

…and a level of anxiety

Receiving an overload of contradicting information has not helped and, at times, has made our choices even more complicated. Yet, we have to make choices.
Our choices, and those made by people around us, will be a decisive factor
in determining the outcome of this tragedy. This means that together with vulnerability, our post-pandemic life brings with it a level of anxiety that accompanies us each time we leave our home. We cannot avoid it, but we can learn how to manage it.

The first step is acknowledging that we are both anxious and vulnerable. Then we can begin to figure out what to do with these uncomfortable feelings.

Brené Brown has dedicated much of her research to the concept of vulnerability. She speaks of the freedom that comes from giving up the need to control and predict. She convincingly proposes
that learning to be vulnerable is key to establishing authentic relationships.

However, we tend to put down our defenses and allow ourselves to be vulnerable only when we are sure we can trust the other person. It already takes courage to be vulnerable in ordinary circumstances; our current situation requires that we balance our sense of vulnerability with being prudent.

Once we’ve accepted the fact that for the foreseeable future we will have to live with anxiety and vulnerability, we can begin to make informed decisions about our actions. Doing this takes courage, but not the kind that leads to being a risk-taker!

Rather, it is a matter of facing our anxieties in order to act responsibly without sacrificing our identity as human beings. And this entails seeking what I would call, optimal human connection.
The meaning of connection.

From the perspective of our psychological well-being, one of the greatest risks
we face in the coming months is losing our ability to connect with others. The isolation of quarantine has led many to a deeper understanding of the meaning of social connections.
These social connections go beyond those important family relationships and close friends: greeting the bus driver, sharing a few words with the man at the check-out counter, learning the story of a fellow traveler on the train, a person you may never meet again but with whom you’ve shared a moment of human connection.

These seemingly casual occasions nourish our humanity, and they leave a mark in the world. It is a mark that’s just as invisible as a virus, yet nonetheless powerful.

I live in Italy. At the end of February this year, I was traveling from Milan to Switzerland on a crowded train. The young man sitting next to me was on his way to Geneva for an interview for a doctoral program. He had just finished his master’s in Holland and was hoping this interview would open up a new opportunity for him.

We spoke about many things, including the news that the coronavirus had reached Northern Italy and we speculated about what it meant. We had no face masks, no hand sanitizer, and, certainly, no social distance. We were sitting right next to each other. When I got off the train, I wished him luck and promised I would remember him the following day when he would have his interview.
In the ensuing days, everything exploded in Italy, and one week later, I found myself on an almost empty train heading back to Milan, where I would change train for Florence. There was a young girl who was on her way to Kenya with her fiancé. I had my face mask in my pocket, and we had room to keep some distance, but it wasn’t intended.

When I reached Milan the shock of the empty train station was more than a little disconcerting. I kept putting the face mask on and taking it off, wondering whether I was exaggerating or being prudent.

Then came the lockdown, future trips canceled, face masks a daily routine, and the recurring question: When will this end? I’ve often thought about those two young people. Did he get into the doctoral program? Will he be forced to follow the program online? Did the young lady get back to Kenya safely?

I will never know the answers to these questions, but the connection I feel with these two people remains as a gift.

It is my decision now, as we move back out into a changed world, to continue to connect with the people I meet, respecting distances and smiling with my eyes, aware of some anxiety, aware that I am vulnerable, but not disengaged.

Nancy O’Donnell (Living City, USA)

The author of this article is from the United States, has a Ph.D. in Psychology and is now based in Loppiano (Florence), Italy