No one cares about your problems

Deal with it. Accept it. That’s the reality.

In all likelihood.

‘…as we barrel toward the first anniversary of the World Health Organization declaring the coronavirus a pandemic, the physical consequences of extended disruption, isolation, and stress have begun to make themselves known en masse, in doctors’ offices and telehealth video calls.’

Closing in on a year of this, with some kind of end in sight, hopefully, and we aren’t really sure of the ramifications as of yet.

Everyone’s suffering. To some extent.

Everyone’s struggling. To some extent.

We’ve all got our issues and problems.

But face it: your problems are inconsequential.

We’re all wrapped up in our own solipsistic worlds.

We’ve all got our own stuff to worry about.

A month ago I came across yet another pandemic-themed article, from the Atlantic, entitled ‘Yes, the Pandemic Is Ruining Your Body: Quarantine is turning you into a stiff, hunched-over, itchy, sore, headachy husk.’

You don’t need to read it. The title says it all.

Speaking for myself: how many books have I read…how many articles have I read…how many things have I read, where I tell myself ‘yes, yes, that’s it, that’s it, that’s the problem, they nailed it, yes, that’s it, thank goodness, there are others out there who have the same stuff going on, oh praise the lord, hallelujah!’

And then…stop for a minute. Control yourself.

What good does it do?

So what, right? Someone else…millions of others are dealing with the same shit. Misery loves company, as they say. What do you feel, vindicated? Someone else has the same in their life? 

So what? What does it change? We’re preaching to the converted at this point. The only people who are with you, the only people who care, are nodding along in agreement, saying ‘yeah, yeah, okay, that’s it, yes, others are suffering too.’

It’s yet another form of confirmation bias.

No one who should care is reading the same thing.

Because they don’t care.

My next post will be titled ‘A simple guide to the most pernicious cognitive biases’. And I’ll deal with confirmation bias more then. I’ve dealt with it before. I probably think it’s the worst of all the cognitive biases.

We only read and listen to what we care about. The people that we want to read these posts, the ones whose sympathy and understanding we crave, they aren’t reading it. They aren’t the target audience. Things are fine for them, so they don’t read it. And they don’t care.

No one cares about your problems. 

Except you, and others in the same boat.

But the people you want to care about it, don’t. The people you want to read it and take notice, don’t. The people you want to empathise with you, don’t. And it’s hard to change that.

Impossible even.

So you can continue to read the same things. To find solace in the heartbreak of others. To know that you’re not alone. 

Not alone, but those who may care are digitally far away. Possibly. They may also be living next door. They may also be good friends of yours who care but are unaware. And vice versa.

Reading more may bring some of us comfort. Stories help. We want to know and we want to console ourselves with the thought that there are others out there…

…but yet…

‘Immersion in narratives brings about isolation from the facts of the real world. (The Delusion of Crowds, William Bernstein)

Some excerpts from the Atlantic article, honing in on the physical and mental aspects of pandemic life:

“In the office, people work for eight or nine hours, but now they find themselves working 10 or 12 hours at home just because there’s no commute time,” Natalia Ruiz, a physical therapist at NYU Langone Orthopedic Center, told me of her patients. “Expectations of productivity have increased because you’re working from home.”

And this, right here, encapsulates everything that is wrong with everything that is going on. Late in 2020 I signed up at a contact lens site to have contacts delivered, but never ended up actually ordering. But alas…

‘Amy in IT is working from home, but just shooed her kids out of her office to complete setting up your new 1-800 Contacts account, as requested. When she finished, she messaged the entire company to announce the good news: you decided to turn to us for contact lenses. Some called their parents. Some baked elaborate desserts. Others felt moved to write poetry. That really jacked guy in Finance started doing vigorous push-ups. All rejoiced. So, thank you for trusting us to help with your vision care...and for giving us a reason to get excited.

Your new socially-distant friends,

The 1-800 Contacts Team’

I guess someone does care – my ‘new socially-distant friends’.

Is this what it’s all come to?

Let me rephrase this:

No one who matters cares about your problems.

Back to the Atlantic:

‘It’s not just our muscles and bones that are burdened. People spending more time gazing at screens have found that their vision is suffering, too.’

‘For many people, the physical ramifications of a year or more in isolation will be temporary, or at least largely reversible. For some, though, the accumulated toll of the pandemic’s disruptions to daily life could be deadly.’

[end excerpts]

‘Yes, yes’, you cry, jumping for joy. ‘That’s me, that’s me!’

And…so what? Yes, indeed the ramifications will be blah blah blah and our vision is suffering too, and all this ‘could be deadly’, blah blah blah…’

What do you do to cope with it all? Talk? Read more? Wallow in self-pity? Hope others will also understand?

Write, perhaps?

‘Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in the human situation.’

(Ways of Escape, Graham Greene)

Escape…now that’s not a bad idea.

But where? How? 

Physically? Mentally? Emotionally?

‘[He]…went on at length bemoaning his affliction, which can never be understood by those who have not undergone the terrible torment of losing control of their mind and the ability to think rationally. [His] derangement belonged to a category of insanity that is accompanied by bodily anguish: a madness that hurts!’

(Life is a Dream, Gyula Krudy)

Bemoan all you want, but don’t expect to be understood.

(It’s madness, I’m telling you, all madness!)

Because no one cares about your problems.

And I got my contact lenses from elsewhere.

So take that, Amy.

It was all for naught.