In an age where most of my student meetings happen on Zoom, it was a rare privilege to meet with this young woman face-to-face. As we prepared to review her work together, I looked down at her hands and noticed that there were thin grey lines across the back of them. I asked what was wrong, but she calmly explained that she’d be working out at the gym and the tape that she used to support and protect her hands left some glue behind when she had removed it. We then continued with the lesson for the day.
Later, I was still reflecting on that brief interaction. She wore the tape on her hands each day to protect them from the wear and tear – from the intensity of the exercise that they were about to endure. But after the tape had done its job and been removed, there was a residue that remained. The residue wasn’t a part of the protection; instead, it was simply what was left behind after the tape had completed its job and been removed for the day. The glue lines were just the markers of protection that was once there, but now gone.
Many of us were stripped of our protection over the past year. A pandemic that we thought would last for mere weeks is heading into its third year, separating loved ones from each other by fear, caution, or death. Our educational systems are failing under the stress of an ad-hoc virtual learning that is leaving students with gaps that will take years to remediate. Our friends and loved ones have ghosted us in some cases as they delve deeply into their own emotional reserves just trying to get through their everyday not-so-routine. Marriages have fallen apart. Churches have closed their doors. Businesses have failed.
And it seems all that remains is a residue – a sticky reminder of the help that we once had. Memories of good times with friends that we no longer see. Thoughts of plans that we had made that no longer seem possible. Remnants of relationships that were not apparently made for the kind of distress that we now face. The marks remind of us the support that we once had, but also point to the fact that it is no longer there.
Still others wrestle with sticky memories from days much further in the past. I still remember mean kids on the school bus and mean words from school hallways. Maybe you have your own dark memories of things that you would rather not hold onto, but it seems they hold on to you. You’ve had those adhesive marks for so long that you don’t even pay attention to them, but every now and then someone asks, reminding you again.
Two days later, I saw the same student again to continue our work together. And I don’t think that she was aware that I was eager to see if the same marks would be on her hands again. To my surprise, there were none. This time, the protective support had done its job, but the residue was no longer there.
In 2022, I wish you a year where the marks of your former supports that are now gone no longer remain. Relationships have changed. Jobs have transitioned. People have experienced trauma that will leave them forever changed from the people that you once knew. But go back to work the next day, find new supports to uplift and sustain you, keep building those muscles and reaching for your goals. Because residue doesn’t have to leave scars. And whether it is fresh from 2020 or lingering from the past, it can still be washed away.
The next time I see you, if you need to protect your hands for the task that is ahead of you, know that I always keep tape with me. And I consider it an honor to be a part of the support team for the dynamic group of people that give me life and strength as well. Let’s stick the landing in 2022 – I’m certain that we can do it together.
