The Words You’re Looking For Are Survivor’s Guilt
Photo: Canva
As I sit cross-legged on the couch—my dog pressed firmly against my leg, my other husky on the ground beneath me, and my partner working on his laptop in the recliner—I pause to appreciate the peaceful simplicity of the moment.
In the background of our respective typing, ABC News broadcasts updates from the ongoing war in Ukraine. Earlier today, Russian forces attacked a maternity hospital.
A maternity hospital.
I gaze up from my screen, and feel my throat catch as images of pregnant women on stretchers, mothers clutching their children, and first responders assessing the devastation flash across the television.
Looking around my living room, I can’t help but observe the contrast between myself—sitting here watching the news story, and those living it.
I turned 28 last week, and since then, as weird as it sounds, I have felt a definitive shift in my being. It’s as if I’ve unlocked a new part of myself, with the key being an increased awareness through the rediscovery of my spirituality.
Each day, God provides me the opportunity to receive a new nugget of wisdom. Every morning I get out of bed, is a chance for a fresh discovery; a lesson to be learned, a connection to be made, a person to help, a blessing to be received.
It’s freeing to understand we will never know everything about the Universe, but exhilarating to realize we have the ability to learn something new every day.
So here I sit, feeling more aligned than I’ve ever felt, and across the globe, an entire country of my fellow human beings is being attacked, killed, and displaced.
There's a saying that comparison is the thief of joy, in regards to coveting someone else’s life. But in this instance, comparison is the giver of compassion.
My partner asked what I was working on this evening; I told him of my attempt to put into words the conflicting emotions of joy for my own life and complete heartbreak for the people of Ukraine.
“Survivor’s guilt,” John calmly stated. “You’re experiencing survivor’s guilt.”
He shared his feelings on the situation, succinctly articulating thoughts that echoed my own reflections, but with a perspective I was ignoring.
For the first time, we’re seeing war in real-time. There’s no lag in information or footage, all you have to do is log on to the social network of your choosing, and you’re immediately flooded with pictures and videos posted directly from those experiencing the horror.
It makes everything so much more real, and all the more terrifying.
“But there are always wars happening,” I confidently said to John, touting the statistic I found last week that states there’s only been about 268 years of peace in the roughly 3,400 years of recorded human history.
“Not like this, there isn’t,” he responded. And unfortunately, I knew he was right.
I’ve been reasoning in my head that, however horrible this war is, it’s no different than other military conflicts of my lifetime. But in my heart, I knew that wasn’t accurate.
Everything about this feels different. World leaders are carefully crafting their responses in a show of calculated restraint. Every country is doing what it can to avoid nuclear war.
And the rest of us, people like you and me, know we have absolutely no control over the outcome.
However, there are a few things we, as ordinary citizens of planet Earth, do have control over.
One, we can find organizations that have direct contact with Ukraine, and donate supplies for humanitarian aid packages. The St. Nicholas Ukrainian Catholic Church in Watervliet, NY, is taking donations until Friday, March 11, 2022. Here is a list of other organizations taking donations for relief.
Secondly, we can pray.
Ask whatever higher power you believe in to be with the people of Ukraine, to protect them, and keep the flames of hope and courage burning within them. Pray for the good people of the surrounding countries, those opening their homes to the millions of refugees flooding their borders. Pray for the leaders making world-altering decisions. Pray for justice to be served to those who disregard human life.
And lastly, in the words of my partner, we can focus on our bubbles: “I think about the war often. I do what I can, and I do what I always do when faced with difficult situations, I focus on my bubble.”
Get up every day and be grateful your heart beats in your chest and your lungs are filled with air. Thank your higher power every night that you have a bed to sleep in, heat in your home, and people who love you. And be sure to tell those people you love and appreciate them, every chance you get.
But most of all, hold on to hope that better days lie ahead. Because war doesn’t have to be inevitable and peace doesn't need to be unattainable.
Until then, I will donate when I can, pray daily, and strive to love and be of service to the people in my bubble.
That's all I can do.
“Until all mankind, without exception, undergoes a great change, wars will be waged, everything that has been built up, cultivated and grown will be cut down and disfigured, to begin all over again after that!” - Anne Frank
