“I really should go with lighter material this time,” I said to my daughter as I cracked open my  MacBook to write this letter on the evening of Memorial Day. “But, my thoughts have been so heavy these days.” It was late, and the kids had just landed back at my house after a fun day with their father and his family. 

“Wait … are those tears running down your face?” she asked.

“You know me,” I said. “Of course they are.” 

Earlier in the day, I had started reading Eighty-Seven Minutes, a blog by Spokane’s own Kent Hoffman, creator of the global platform known as Circle of Security, on attachment and bonding. His blog speaks to the “human condition squeezed inside personal struggle and hidden possibility.” And within that, how we are always longing to connect—with ourselves, without even knowing it most of the time, and with others. That “we live with a presence of absence: something is almost always missing or about to go missing; wrong or about to go wrong.” And on this somber Memorial Day evening having spent the day alone working on a press deadline, I was caught in a bit of lonely reflection on how a day of honoring those we’ve lost unites friends and family throughout the country. I thought about how knowing loss often brings us closer together and reminds us to cherish our connections right now. But, I also thought of how swiftly the world spins on its axis and how fast the time flies right on by. It is said we are one the loneliest societies that have ever been. We may not be fully cognizant of how precious the gift of time together is as we pull out the extra camp chairs, play yard games or fire up the outdoor grill (although, I hear smokers are all the rage these days). 

I watched a TED Talk by Johann Hari not long ago about addiction, and the phenomenonal twist researcher Bruce K. Alexander uncovered while testing addictions in lab rats. In his famous “Rat Park” research, a rat is placed in a bare cage, alone, and offered two water bottles—one with water and the other with water and either heroin or cocaine. The rat will, without fail, choose the drug-laced bottle over the water bottle, and will swiftly overdose itself to death (rats under these conditions have a 100 percent overdose rate). But, when rats are placed in decked-out rat parks—full of toys, food, goodies and other rats—they almost never use the drug-laced water bottle. When they are happy, connected creatures, there are zero overdoses. 

When researchers wondered if those findings would translate to humans, they looked back on studies conducted after the Vietnam War. Twenty percent of American troops were using heroin while away at war and, naturally, there was concern of what would transpire upon their return home. In the end, though, the twist was that 95 percent of those who were using heroin while away stopped upon their return, without intervention or withdrawal. When they returned to their homes and families—when they were once again happy and connected creatures—they didn’t choose the drugs. 

It is no secret that humans have an intense, natural and innate need to bond—and we will bond to and connect with something. Where there is a sense of emptiness or loneliness—when we cannot bear to be present in our own lives—we will numb out the pain, pulling further away from those around us.

Johann Hari ends his TED Talk by saying “the opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety, it’s connection.” As we move through the glorious season of summer cookouts, adventures with friends and opportunities for family time, I wish for us all a continuous reminder to stay connected to one another—right now, while we still have one another (and while the season speaks of fun and opportunity to do so). I challenge where there is unrest, let us connect to one another. Where we see pain and disconnect, let us reach out and connect to that person—whether it’s our spouse, our child, a friend or co-worker, perhaps a stranger on the street. Where we feel recovery is needed and improvements must be made, let us be part of the “social recovery” of actually deeply connecting to one another again, friend or foe. 

We are Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living magazine, and we are Spokane and Coeur d’Alene. Please find me on Facebook or Instagram—and hop over to “like” and follow the Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living magazine pages—to stay connected between press dates, and to share your thoughts, stories and life in real time.

To a connected community,

Stephanie Regalado
stephanie@spokanecda.com