When You Feel Disconnected from the World, Small Businesses Might Be the Anchor We Forgot

Last February, I lost my mom.
And if I’m honest, things haven’t felt right since.

Back then, I consumed every headline.
Now, I can barely open the news.

Yesterday, I looped an old Coke Studio track for hours. Today, I updated my playlists for the first time in months.
These tiny moments—music and writing—have been my way of staying human.

At first, I wrote about my grief. I poured everything into essays about my mom.
But over time, it started to hollow me out. So I stopped.

I thought I was just pulling back to heal.
Now I wonder if I was also reacting to something deeper—something happening to all of us.

My wife doesn’t feel the same way.

She works in healthcare. Her days are defined. Patients come in, patients leave. There’s structure. There’s demand.
Me? I’m unemployed, rebuilding. Reimagining my purpose.

We live in the same home, but in different realities.
Different seasons. Different states of mind.

And maybe that’s the grace in it all—because if we were both drowning, who would throw the rope?

My family has been that rope. My anchor. My reason to try again.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself:
Why do so many of us feel powerless right now?

I watched an old Bollywood film set during British rule. The villagers had no voice, no tools, no power.
It hit me hard. Because it felt familiar.

We live in our little "villages" now, too—except they’re online, on Zoom, or in tiny co-working nooks.
And even if we’ve built wealth, careers, even families… so many people feel like they’re one bad month away from collapse.

Especially small business owners.

Small businesses are the new village.
The local baker. The freelance designer. The solopreneur with a Shopify store. The coach trying to make a living with real impact.

They’re not just economic engines.
They’re emotional ones.

They carry the hopes of people trying to own something in a world that feels increasingly owned by someone else.

And when the world starts to feel like it’s slipping away—politically, economically, emotionally—it’s these small engines that keep us grounded.

That reminds us there’s still dignity in doing your own thing.
Still power in serving a few people well.
Still humanity in being known by name, not by email list size.

I think a lot of us are grieving. Not just people, but systems, safety, and predictability.

COVID may have cracked the facade.
But this feeling? This disconnection?

It’s newer.
It’s quieter.
It’s scarier.

Because it tells us the rules changed… and nobody told us.

So here’s where I am now:

• Rebuilding.
• Staying close to the music.
• Writing again, not just to process grief, but to reconnect.
• Supporting small businesses, because they remind me of what still works.

If you’re reading this and feel disconnected too, you’re not broken.
You’re just awake.
And maybe that’s the first step to something better.

If you’re a small business owner navigating your season of uncertainty, I see you. Let’s build something resilient—together. Share your story in the comments or hit reply.