When Everything Happens at Once: Alarmed Aloneness, Resonance, and the Kindness That Carries Us
Some weeks Life arrives with a cascade of challenges, each one landing before you’ve had time to catch your breath. Do you know these weeks? Mine began on the hill outside Sheffield, when my car slowly lost power and refused to go forwards or upwards. The RAC came to the rescue, and three hours later I was on a bus, salvaging what remained of my day in Hathersage. He was a kind man who explained what he was doing and kept an eye on me, as well as looking after the car. The garage know me and four chaps came out to receive it off the tow and push and roll it into a parking bay to await their attention. It’s the clutch – the part of the car that disconnects the engine and wheels so you can change gear.
By evening the next day, the next wave arrived: a call from my son. He’d fallen off the climbing wall and hurt his foot – clearly in some pain and shock – could I come and pick him up? Err… no, sorry. I have no car.
I said I’d get an Uber – only for my phone to die completely, ignoring all attempts at revival. In that moment, shock, despair, and a familiar alarmed aloneness washed through me. A little self‑resonance helped me breathe again. “Lucy would you acknowledge some acknowledgement of shock?” yes and do you need acknowledgement of alarmed aloneness? and despair? yes” and various other wonderings. These Resonant guesses act like a clutch to help us uncouple our fight/flight/alarmed aloneness state and shift gears into enough sense of safety to think more clearly. So my thinking brain soon came back online, and I knocked on my neighbour’s door. She immediately offered us a lift.
We scooped up my boy from his pillow and free chocolate brownie at the climbing wall, and headed to children’s A&E – only to be redirected to adult services because he’s now 16. That’s a bit of a shocking graduation that happened silently and unknowingly to us some months back.
Back in the car, at adult A&E he was triaged within minutes, X‑ray done… and then his dad arrived. That was its own strange moment: we haven’t spent more than a couple of awkward unexpected minutes together in over a decade. Mostly he doesn’t reply to messages and carries an air of contempt around me – it’s not his fault, I reckon it was as if it was in all the air he breathed as a kid, his family system holds much contempt. These were uncomfortable hours, and yet I’m so glad we were both there with and for our son. I kept things light for our son’s sake, asked a few long‑held questions, and remembered all the Systemic Constellations work I’ve done around our little family. Wanting to bring a little more lightness and flow into the system for everyone sake. Here we were, 3 of us, together when our son needed us, we came together. We did it.
I could easily and silently acknowledge, with love, this beautiful child we co‑created, and feel grateful for the good times we shared. My body was surprisingly peaceful.
Five hours later: the X-ray showed no breaks. Crutches, rest, ice, elevation. Home at 2:30am, my marvellous neighbour acting as taxi yet again.
The Modern Fragility of Everyday Life
Morning arrived with another realisation: without my phone, I couldn’t access my bank, rearrange meetings, or receive the codes needed to log into essential apps. Or find out what was happening with my car! Modern life has made me astonishingly dependent on functioning technology. And the way through is always reliant on the kindness of myself to myself and to learn to ask and receive from other people. (Now if you live alone, you may think your goose is cooked, but thanks to technology when it works, we can connect around the world.)
There was a loud knock on my door and my neighbour had come with some freshly picked tomatoes for me. My eyes prickled with tears. She noticed and offered me a hug and said, “You are not alone in this.” Such a simple, powerful sentence. Such a relief. To be seen, and known, and be accompanied. Thank you!
One of the hardest parts of juggling multiple unexpected situations: the alarmed aloneness that rises up. It’s not fear. It’s not loneliness. It’s a primal mammalian distress – the feeling a baby has when it cries out and no one comes. My mentor Sarah Peyton’s term of Alarmed Aloneness captures it perfectly, alongside Fight and Flight and Immobilisation.
Having responsive, warm support has been invaluable for me this week. Thank goodness for WhatsApp on my laptop too. I ate breakfast with a friend who lent me her nervous system and prefrontal cortex. I’m not sure they’d have seen it quite this way, but they were calmer than me and more clear and practical thinking. Offering clarity and details for the next steps I would not have managed alone. Being accompanied by someone who is genuinely trying to understand makes such a difference. Strategies and advice, can be invaluable – at the right moment, with consent, otherwise it spikes our cortisol and adds more alarm.
Yes, my nervous system is jangled. I haven’t slept enough. I need to rearrange a couple of sessions this week. But I am not alarmed and alone. My mammal body knows I am safe. Others know where I am. I’m seen and cared for.
And in the midst of all this, it’s GCSE results day. My neighbour took and collected my son so he could receive his results in person and alongside his friends. Happily, they were even better than expected – so we celebrated, via WhatsApp. The modern way. I’ve booked his favourite restaurant for when we are together again.
A Gentle Invitation
If you’re juggling a lot emotionally, historically and ongoing, would you appreciate having someone with you – someone who can accompany you, whatever you’re living through, so you don’t have to be so alarmed or alone. In an ideal world we would have friends, family and community around us to do this more spontaneously and without having to pay. But the truth is we often don’t have access to the kind of warm attention and undivided resonance our nervous systems need to make repairs. It makes a huge difference. Let me know if you’d like more information and some attuned resonant accompaniment.