When a disaster or a crisis strikes, it can feel like there is no right place to start. It can feel like, logically, there is no right thing to do. There are books written on the subject, and I have read quite a few. The same way a biology major ingests text after text about blood cells, body and bacteria, communication majors devour books on how to handle crises. When disaster strikes, we sit in our classrooms and discuss the aftermath, hoping to glean some insight on what the right approach is.
What I can say with certainty after countless debates is that there will never be the perfect way to answer something. Our professors tell us that is okay, and a large part of me agrees. Most of us can recognize that perfection does not exist. I am okay with that, too, even though I am a perfectionist (I know many people can relate).
Sometimes, I think it can be easy to fall into this trap of wanting to give the perfect response. We so desperately cling to this idea that there is a right thing to say in every situation and that if we mull it over long enough, it will come to us. I have sat, fingertips poised over a blank document, with the news blaring quietly in the background. I listen. I think. I ponder. I ache. In my darkest moments I have read words that have lifted me up and given me comfort; how can I accomplish the same?
The problem with the perfect response is that you end up with no response at all. You end up with a blank page a week after the disaster has struck, and time is running out. Time has already slipped away. People are hurting, but now they feel ignored. People are suffering, but now they feel invisible.
The problem with the perfect response is that in moments of darkness and suffering, no one wants or expects perfection. In those moments, we are hit painfully hard with the reality that life is not perfect. The only perfect response is genuine, sincere, human compassion. The only perfect response is to sympathize, to empathize, and to let those affected know you care.
To those who have been impacted by Hurricane Harvey, I cannot understand what you are feeling. I am sorry if you have felt neglected or ignored. To those impacted, I extend my love. Most of all, you are important, you are not invisible, and you are loved.