Isolation by its very nature allows you to feel alone. Sometimes it’s by design (says the gleeful introvert). Sometimes it’s not. Clearly, the world in which we’re living is a place that is lonelier than it used to be—whether you’re quarantined alone or with others. We’re still missing the interactions with the usual “day players” in our lives. I miss visiting family as much as seeing my neighbors and hanging out eating, drinking, and talking together. For many of us, our day-to-day families have vanished–at least in person.

While we’re lucky enough to have video technology so we can see the faces of those we love and miss, I think we can all admit that it doesn’t feel the same. Sure, it will do for the time being, but we crave more.

I miss hugging people. I’ve always been a hugger—whether family members, or friends–men or women. Nothing feels like a tight squeeze when you’re greeting or saying good bye to some you care about. I won’t stop hugging people in my circle—as long as they’re comfortable with it. I miss it. (Shaking hands, on the other hand, I’m good with letting go of. I mean, meeting a stranger and touching would could be the dirtiest part of their body…c’mon.)

A trick I’ve used since I was a kid coping with something terrifyingly new or seemingly insurmountable–particularly in dealing with new situations or the loss of loved ones–is a reminder to myself that I wasn’t alone; that I wasn’t the first person to have dealt with whatever I was dealing with; that I wasn’t the only person who has lost a grandparent or loved one; that other people I love were feeling the same way; that people manage through the grief and move forward with their lives. I think it’s a rare gift given from being a “child of television.”

When Ken was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I remember employing this tool a lot, thinking: “Other people have dealt with this situation before and have managed to live through it. I will too.” Somehow, the reminder that innumerable people had walked in my shoes gave me comfort and strength. It’s somehow ingrained in my DNA to look at challenging situations with a positive spin. My sister Shelli lovingly refers to this as my “glass half full” syndrome. Somehow the innate feeling of knowing others have felt or are feeling the same way as I am engenders a connection that binds us together; making me a part of something bigger outside myself.

The world today is an isolated one. Reminding myself it won’t last forever doesn’t always help assuage the sadness I can feel on the daily…like it used to. Reminding myself how lucky I am has lost most of its punch, as well. The emotional roller coaster of navigating constantly swirling currents has eroded my optimistic spirit. Yet, the one thing that stands between me and whatever lies in the shadows beyond my inner light is the reminder that I’m not alone. I’m not the only one feeling this way. We are all quite literally in this together–globally–for probably the first time in recent history.

Ruminating on that that one idea lifts me back up–even if just by the smallest amount. The follow-up trick to remain there is to reach out to someone and see how they’re doing. For me, it sort of locks me in place for the time being, taking the focus off myself and shining it on someone else. It reinforces by demonstration, that we’re not alone. As a son, brother, team lead, colleague and friend, I take my responsibility to check in with my network very seriously.

I’m not always able to fake it ’til I make it, but that doesn’t matter. Our connections to each other are more important than ever before. For me, reaching out to each other is the only way I’m able to maneuver to wherever the other side of this pandemic lies. Doing so lifts me—all of us—upward.