Naming the Electrons in Your Electronic Orbit

Every year or two, I do an assessment of my social atom as a sketch.

The social atom, created by Jacob Moreno, founder of psychodrama, is a diagnostic tool to help clients identify the people in their lives they feel close to. Placing themselves as the nucleus in the center, with their friends or family around them at different distances from the center, the atom provides a snapshot, or an embodied sculpture of the client’s interpretation of their personal relationships.

I use an adaptation of this activity on paper to reflect on the current status of my social network, to notice and name the people who are in my life, and to recognize those who are no longer central in my life. I use a big enough page to place some people in outer circles or orbits, if I still consider them part of my life, but not part of my immediate social atom. I’ll come back to this, as there are at least three layers or circles.

Relationships are fluid. People come and go, some return, some depart, some remain, and new people enter, in a movement that sometimes feels like the ebb and flow of the tides, or the spiraling movement of the stars.

I find it helpful to draw a social atom periodically for two reasons: to name and appreciate the people who are currently stars in my orbit, and to let go of the people who have moved on (and to set them free in my mind and heart). Sometimes this activity reminds me to reach out to people I’ve lost touch with, so that we can reconnect, if that’s wanted. Looking at the shadow side, the social atom helps me to acknowledge when a relationship has become non-reciprocal or hurtful, so that I can decide whether to evict them or hopefully let go gracefully. By creating a social atom, I acknowledge the changing tides, and by naming the electrons/people in my orbit, it gives me a real-time reality check, and helps me to clear my mental/emotional/relational house.

There are many variations on this activity in group work, e.g., building constellations in addition to atoms. On my drawing I place people farther out from the nucleus who are still in my orbit, and others even farther away if I still consider them as part of my galaxy. But I mainly focus on the immediate social atom in my life: the people I feel close to who love, support, and include me and vice-versa.

One of the challenges of the Covid pandemic is that it forced us into isolation, which scrambled a great many of our relationships and the patterns we perceive as making those relationships meaningful, such as singing or working together in close proximity, hugging, or dining out together. The political divisiveness in the US and other countries, and the war in Ukraine have further isolated us or damaged our sense of trust, sometimes breaking up families and friendships, as if the pandemic’s death toll, financial strain, and the long-Covid illness that many have experienced weren’t difficult enough. To say nothing of the attacks on human rights, the shifting sands of social media platforms, and the ravages of climate change.

However, one of the positive outcomes during this time has been that our electronic network became stronger, at least for those of us with access to, and the ability to use technology. The adaptation to Zoom and other platforms has allowed us to connect with people from all over the world, forging new alliances and friendships, some of which are profoundly meaningful, intellectually stimulating, and/or emotionally close. When I think of my “circle of friends” today, some of them are in different countries or different states, but we greet each other on our computer screens regularly, with great affection, and we dive hungrily into conversations, meditations, or creative work. After nearly three years of social isolation, I am out of the habit of seeing friends who live much closer to me, and it occurs to me that these electronically sustained relationships have become a saving grace for thousands of people, and deserve to be recognized on our social atoms.

When my husband worked from home for 18 months during the pandemic, we expected things to eventually “go back to normal”. But instead, we created a new normal, and a new “community” that is broader, globally, yet also more intimate because it comes right into our homes. Our meeting spaces do not require us to travel long distances, or for our houses or offices to be immaculate, nor do they require us to wear suits or heels, if we prefer not to, or masks, or to pay extra for parking, lunches, or highway tolls.

We’ve become more informal, but also more available to our online friends. In fact, the relative ease we have in connecting online now, also makes it easier to identify the relationships which have drifted out with the tide, because it’s simple to connect, electronically, if we choose to do so. This isn’t a judgement on those choices, because obviously there are numerous challenges and demands on our lives which can limit our social time with friends, family, or colleagues, and all of us are free to move on to different star systems whenever we please.

Still, it matters little from the perspective of the atom, whether a person has vacated their spot because of extraneous pressures or personal displeasure, if their absence creates a vacuum. It is important to consider those circumstances, however, before relegating these “electrons” to a different section of the page, or removing them from the page altogether.

But it is worth noting that there’s been a sea change in our lives over the past three years. The tides of time have rearranged our communities, taking some people away permanently, and bringing new people together dramatically, by which I mean swiftly, efficiently, and often across great distances.

In my social atom this year are the names of half a dozen people who are friends because of the magic of electronics. I’ve never met most of them in person. I am buoyed and enriched by their presence in my life, which would never have happened except for the pandemic. I’m deeply grateful for the people in my social atom and in my orbit, electronically and in person. And I’m grateful to Jacob Moreno for giving us this mirror to reflect the stars in our lives.