There’s a specific feeling that I get when I am anxious and overstimulated that’s really hard to describe, but to me it makes perfect sense. I remember noticing it not too many years back when I was seated at a diner with my mom. The small log cabin looking room with hard plastic booths smelled of crispy hash browns, sizzling bacon, and maple syrup. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but I remember my eyes getting lost in my small cream colored ceramic mug of black diner coffee. I was entranced at the thought of being small enough to dive into the dark, warm liquid, shutting out the world and being suspended in nothingness. No sounds. No emotions. No scary anything. Just stillness, darkness, and warmth.
I remember a separate, more recent time trying to describe that feeling to a friend. Except this time, the best description I could give was desperately wishing there was a way I could open my skin, and crawl inside of my own, warm body, and squeeze it all shut like a heavy blanket. It’s a feeling of desperately wanting to shut out the world, quiet the noise, and just be comforted. Maybe that sounds morbid and crazy to someone who doesn’t feel these things, but it’s very real for me sometimes.
Isolation is such a dangerous game. Naturally, believe it or not, I am introverted. In order to recharge I need to be alone for a while, create something for myself, listen to something I want to listen to, or just find ways to spend time with myself. Sometimes, but very rarely, that recharge bucket can be filled while I’m sharing space with a few select people. But those people are very few, and normally recharging means sitting together and not talking.
The tricky part is that my anxiety is also complimented so beautifully and seamlessly with depression. Except it’s not beautiful. It’s messy, and it requires regular reflection and balance. If I spend too much time alone, I get too sad. But I need that alone time to recharge. If I spend too much time with people, especially groups of people or crowds, I begin to run on fumes, but I know that I need that community time to stay healthy. You can see how this gets challenging.
I notice this challenge often when I am sick for multiple days. While the hobbit that lives in me quietly rejoices at the thought of watching whatever shows I want and reading whatever books I want while I take time off of work and hide under the covers, after a couple days of that, my brain realizes that my body is mimicking depression symptoms. I start getting really worried about how alone I feel, how desperate I am to hear someone else’s voice.
Isolation is my greatest and most unhealthy defense mechanism. It works but not in a way that's actually good for me. If people are just going to hurt me, if the world is just going to continue to be overstimulating and awful, shutting it all out only makes sense. More isolation, less pain. More isolation, less stress. Right?
At least that’s what my unchecked gut reaction is. It’s what I say to myself when I don’t actually want to face the problems. While some alone time is really good and refreshing for me, too much of it can make me spiral really fast. The truth is, more isolation means less community, less space for friends and loved ones to speak love and truth into your life, and it really just makes everything worse. You need people you can trust. You need to have people. None of us were created to fully do life alone.
Self isolation is a really natural response for someone who has experienced trauma. In order to protect itself, our brains can do an exceptional job at convincing us that we are the most safe when we build walls and refuse to let people in. Sometimes this shows up in the form of pushing away loved ones and people we already have good relationships with. It makes navigating new relationships really difficult. I find myself reflecting on the questions, “Am I pushing this person away or are they choosing that? Am I the one pushing them away because it’s good for me or because I am actually afraid of a good thing?” a lot.
The most vulnerable example I have of this is a recent one. I had been navigating the wonderful world of new medical insurance the last couple of months, so I hadn’t seen my therapist in quite awhile. I thought maybe this switch would mean that I would have to find a new one, but when I found out that I didn’t need to, I still hesitated to make the appointment. I spent a few weeks trying to convince myself to find a new therapist because what I was dealing with was too much for her, and it would be safer to push her away and start over.
You read that correctly. I was trying to shut out the paid professional whose job it is to sit quietly, listen to my personal garbage, and not judge me but help me untangle and process it all. It took quite a bit of prayer before I realized that I was actually trying to push away a good thing. That’s a me thing that only I am responsible for, not my therapist.
All that to say, if you are reading this and you see similarities in our stories, you are not alone. Isolation is often the easy choice. It is never the best for you. To be honest, if you have been isolating for a while or pushing people away, the people who care about you are noticing. They miss you. They deserve a you in their life who will fight off the whispers of self preservation and work on being a better version of yourself for them. You deserve a you that makes memories and finds joy among other people in real life. You deserve people who will make you laugh, that will make you feel safe and loved. If you haven’t found those people yet, please keep looking. Chances are, they have been right next to you the entire time. We just need to get better at not pushing away good things.
Sure building walls and keeping people out will protect you from the pain of betrayal and loss, but it also deprives you of the breath taking depth of being human, being alive. Without letting people in, you never get to experience a love so wide that it feels like you could explode at any moment, overflowing with joy. You'll never have those life altering, meaningful, basement floor conversations that don't end until 3:00am. You might be able to walk along the shore and feel the waves lap against your toes, but you'll never know the freedom in running barefoot through the wet sand, furiously giggling while you and your friend scare a flock of seagulls. You could go load up on Taco Bell after midnight on your own, but it won't hit the same as a car full of friends shoving your faces with tacos and laughing until you cry, blasting songs you danced to in middle school through the stereo. When someone you love leaves or passes away, the people around you are what make it possible to keep going. When you are at your darkest, having a friend with an outstretched hand makes taking the next step a little more bearable. Life is so much richer, so much more full, and intensely beautiful with people.
If you need today, go sit under a warm weighted blanket or take a long bath. Find a quiet space a breathe for a little while. You deserve that too, but it’s important to me that today you remember that you deserve to not only take time away, but to rejoin the people you love and have experiences with them that fill you and help you. Shutting all people out is never the right answer. Maybe you need to call your sibling today, or have a game night with friends. Maybe you need to take your partner out for dinner. Whatever it is you need, go do it today, and take someone with you.
You are truly and deeply loved.
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