Community helped save me

I’ve been meditating on the importance of community lately. I keep seeing news stories that suggest we are in a loneliness epidemic and that it’s only getting worse. Pundits love to blame social media; I suppose pinning a single source for a problem must make them feel more at ease since it provides an easy explanation. The greater truth is that the breakdown of local communities started long before the rise of social media. The industrial revolution led to many people leaving their homes to seek employment in more urban areas. Where people used to grow up in the same place and rarely left their hometown, leaving for economic opportunities became much more common.

Another contributing factor is that, in Western culture and society primarily, a lot of emphasis is placed on the individual. My understanding of Eastern culture, however, is that the betterment of the whole unit, whether it be a family, community, or society, is more of the focus. Please be aware that I am speaking in generalizations, and I know that there are a myriad of nuances to every part of the world. I wish to focus specifically on the United States because that’s where I live.

I’m sure you’ve heard the popular saying of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps when it comes to solving problems in one’s life. The thing with that saying, though, is that its origin was as a sarcastic response to someone saying they could do what was impossible. It’s only been in more recent times that the phrase turned to being one of self-sufficiency and, if we can be totally honest, became a dog whistle for those wanting to preserve an economic status quo despite the harm said status quo inflicts onto the financially downtrodden.

Naturally the modern connotation doesn’t sit well with me (neither do, but I’ll dissect the first connotation here). What if there are no bootstraps? What if you’re not strong enough to pull yourself up to begin with? What bothers me most about this saying is that it completely ignores the importance of community when it comes to bettering oneself and the role community plays in our well-being.

If you’ve been following this blog, you might be aware of the significant mental health struggles I faced about five years ago and the profound impact it had on my life. Healing from such a difficult time in my life was not done in solitude. When I was in the hospital, there were other patients, caregivers, and healthcare providers who encouraged and facilitated my healing. I was never alone, and I knew that I was in a safe place. Upon my discharge, I lived at home with my parents, whereas my siblings came and went. I could do very little for myself at this point. While my basic activities of daily living weren’t an issue, I needed help. I was so overmedicated that I slept twelve hours a day and wanted to sleep more. My mom would wake me up and make sure I got out of the house so I didn’t sleep all the time. Keeping my bedroom clean was impossible. Plates with dried food, wrappers et cetera littered the floor almost every day. I’d still be in bed, or I’d barely roll out of bed to go for a walk with my mom. My dad would patiently pick up the plates and wrappers. He would, of course, gently scold me and point out that cockroaches would love to make such a place their home. As I got better, I was able to keep my space clean myself, but not at the beginning. My siblings would spend time with me when they were home and check in on me. My grandmother had me come spend afternoons with her until I was safe to be alone after PHP. I had friends who offered moral and emotional support when I wasn’t feeling my best. There was a whole community keeping me safe from myself, supporting my family, and helping me rebuild my life.

The two most important communities I found in the aftermath of my suicidal ideation struggles were my church community and my autism support group. I remember one of my dear friends meeting me for the first time at a park and bringing me so much food that I didn’t know how I was going to eat it all. He invited me to parties at his apartment (in my support group, they are referred to as “socials”; I’m not sure why). I was welcomed there with open arms, and I met people who had experienced similar struggles to me. 

I started attending my church because it was so close to where I was living at the time, but I soon fell in love with the people there. There were people there who were autistic or had other disabilities who were involved with the church. I felt seen and safe. I hadn’t been involved in a healthy faith community in a long time. I hadn’t made new friends or socialized in a long time. As I spent more time attending events with both groups and getting to know people, the layers of pain lifted away. My self-loathing started to subside, and I felt that I could build a life I would like once more.

I am still involved with both of these groups, and they give my life so much purpose and meaning. I am not of the opinion that everyone needs to find their tribe in a faith community. Community can be found anywhere people gather to move towards a common goal that the group shares. I firmly believe that we are not supposed to live our lives in solitude. We are meant to live our lives amongst those who are cheering for us to be the best versions of ourselves and who hold us lovingly accountable. Hard work and self-reliance have their place in building a good life, but the value of a loving and stable community has been underrated substantially in the modern world.