Why urbanisation has disconnected Dhakaites
Dhaka, like many metropolitan cities, lives by the adage of eat-sleep-work-repeat to the point of exhaustion. Despite the struggles of adulting, what keeps us afloat is our families and social ties. Between our day jobs and household chores, we tend to strategise different ways of catching up with them. Yet, when evening rolls around, we find ourselves in this mental limbo of wanting to socialise versus wanting to isolate.
The realisation dawns that collective burnout has us wanting connection, yet dreading the effort to make plans. But there’s a litany of reasons for us to choose convenience over communication. Getanjali Roy, Psychological Counsellor at PHWC studies the root of this urban burnout and how it impacts the different aspects of our lives.
Sincerely, Suppressed
The inability to manage burnout has forced us into choosing isolation as a way to recharge ourselves. But this also poses the question: is burnout, monotony or isolation something we developed recently, or is it an accumulation of many things that happened from childhood to adulthood?
Getanjali compares our emotional state to a volcano waiting to erupt. We are constantly going through shifts at home, work, politically or globally. And there is no room to address it when it’s bothering us. Flippant comments like “there’s no point talking about this” automatically shut down any scope of unburdening the stress. Invalidating someone’s thoughts and feelings can cause people to bottle up their authentic emotions. Over time, it conditions us to make peace with maladaptive coping strategies. Isolation is one of them.
“Additionally, practices like enablement, devaluation and comparison teach children that some people can be leveraged for personal benefits, while others can be berated or even discarded,” she explains. When social and cultural teachings sway from one extreme to another, children hold on to that well into their adulthood and pass it on to the next generation like a family heirloom.
Caught between nostalgia and reality
“There was once a time when meeting our friends, relatives in the same neighbourhood would feel like an adventure. We didn’t have to brave a massive traffic jam to meet people. That sense of belonging is not there anymore. Nor do we have relatives living nearby. This is a result of urbanisation, globalisation or even technology,” explains the counsellor.
What once brought us joy and respite now feels like a chore. Thus, perpetuates the idea of self-protection because no one understands the hassle of following through a plan, all the while being exhausted from shouldering responsibilities. The added pressure of making appearances throws yet another question at us: Are we even present at that moment? Or are we simply fixated on a submission that’s due or work that needs to be delegated to the domestic help? Apart from tuning out of conversations, the rush of returning home or having to complete a task is evident in our bodies and in our gestures. Furthermore, we’re in this constant loop of working eight hours, only to come back home and work again.
The (Anti)social media
Our human connections also diminish with our increasing presence online. Ironically, we give children flak for being glued to the screen, especially when they’ve learned it from us. This causes many young adults to show people-pleasing tendencies in an attempt to receive compliments. “Teenage girls who’ve gone through extensive scrutiny about their appearances growing up, fixate on the fantasy of beauty that is not attainable for them. As a result, they compare themselves, and at times even resent the curated lives, relationships and social network of influencers.”
Observing the underlying causes of validation, Getanjali says this “need” began early on when we didn’t receive some form of appreciation from our immediate surroundings. “Despite our best efforts at doing something good, we were compared to not meeting someone else’s standards. This creates a vacuum in us at an early age; so much that we want to receive attention from others, in whatever way possible, without assessing the repercussions,”she explains.
The Verdict?
The fact of the matter is, we are a product of our environment. The shifts in our surroundings don’t exactly mean that all is lost. It urges a need for adjustment to the changing times. Getanjali observes that people are keen on learning about things, even if it is through social media. “Although taboo, people are now talking about therapy and mental health. Therefore, communal spaces like schools, colleges, universities and offices need to build a narrative that focuses on ‘well-being’ as opposed to ‘mental-health’ to encourage people to open up.”
It is also important to better understand the difference between loneliness for avoidance versus alone time for the self. “Some people enjoy their time away from others, because they get to do something as simple as reading a book at the park. In case someone feels that their alone time is bordering on crippling loneliness, they could check in with themselves to see if it’s affecting different parts of their life, mood and functionality. If it is, then they could seek professional help.”
Rekindling old connections or having new experiences doesn’t have to break the bank. “An evening get-together at a friend’s place to watch a football match or a movie together; catching up with family, siblings and cousins, or even touching base with someone close at a local cha’er tong, would leave a priceless yet profound impact.”
As for unanticipated situations, acceptance is sometimes our saving grace. Getanjali says, “When you’ve been dealt a bad day, having the ability to respond and not react is necessary, as some things are beyond our control. No matter how angry we get, we cannot stop the rain, but we can certainly learn to enjoy it.”
Getanjali’s call to action for communities is simple: cultivate an environment which practices mindfulness, followed by open discussions so that people can connect over similar journeys. It brings ease in knowing that you’re not alone in your suffering. Preaching to this choir, Sumaiya Rubama, a Learning & Development (L&D) Professional at an HR and Consultancy company, says, “In a city that can swallow you whole, finding that small circle, your niche, becomes an anchor. It’s how you survive the loneliness in a crowded room, and start experiencing the Dhaka chaos differently.”