Last year I spoke of the Fantasy of Isolation…. About how I hated my own neediness and would prefer to be self-reliant.
My mental illness morphs and changes and I’m never sure what set of “coping tools” I’ll need at any given moment for the emotions that take over me… sometimes it feels like “run of the mill” depression, where I just feel paralyzed and want to lie in the bed and my heart feels heavy, other times I feel emotionally overwhelmed and frenetic and self-harm is the only way to get a release, then I feel angry and want to scream along to my favorite grunge songs at the top of my lungs in the car and the pain feels so real and technicolor…
I used to have a strong social circle. If I felt so horrible, someone would come over, and often their physical presence was enough to thwart the intensity of the emotions. Or I would call someone, and processing aloud whatever had triggered or upset with me, would also calm me and sometimes it was the sheer time spent on the phone, that was just allowing the storm to pass.
But these were people I also spent positive times with in-person, lots of shared activities and outings, etc. In 2018, when I was depressed without any signs of it relenting, month after month, I began to hate myself, hate the person I was morphing into with my friends, conscientious of the constant heaviness I was injecting into our relationships…. I moved half way across the world, partially in some effort to relieve them of the burden I felt I had become.
Navigating the social support from far-off was challenging, but I had in-person friends, who lightened the mood, where I could be a version of myself, that had been lost- fun, funny, shooting the shit, not pulled down by illness. When the illness did pull me under, it was hard to then impose that on people who didn’t really understand that side of me. And some people could even say really awful insensitive triggering things.
When I got news of my physical illness diagnosis, reaching out to the far-away support circle failed me, I felt misunderstood, isolated in wholly new ways… I was ready to be done with practically everyone.
And then the pandemic has left me with essentially no one. I don’t have anyone to celebrate my fun sides…. b/c I have no in-person social interaction, I don’t feel comfortable calling anyone in crisis — because everyone is facing some kind of crisis.
I’ve had to re-orient myself.
As I’ve had to foster virtual connections in a new way, I’ve realized what I really miss more than anything is people to laugh with, bullshit with, — that of course we need space to vent about our hardships, but that more than ever, that is a back and forth, that it’s not me, calling my crisis counsellor for help, but mutual sharing — but also when things around are so hard and dark, it’s good to veer into topics outside of that heaviness. I’ve become more connected with some of my older friends, who knew me in different times of life. And that I don’t need to, nor do I want to process aloud, my life anymore… I don’t want to become this caricature of my depressed self, where my hardships define my existence.
I’ve also realized that while there’s some room for error, someone who may say the wrong things sometimes that makes me tailspin for whatever reason, there are people I interact with, that consistently feed me negative energy only, bring me down, make me feel alienated, or unlucky, or small.
But I have persevered in a new way, I have found ways to bring myself enjoyment, I’ve broken out of that needy reflex for others, whether to enjoy things or to comfort me. I have joked that I’ve become my own best friend. I’m not sure without the pandemic I would ever have been pushed this hard, and I’m wary to call this a positive byproduct, b/c like all things in my life it may be an ephemeral positive, but I don’t want ignore this development, b/c it’s something I had wished for.
And if I can provide myself the company I want and need, it’s much easier to cut out the people who make me feel bad. It’s also easier to ensure a better sense of reciprocity in my interactions with others. I am less plagued with the idea that I’m a burden.
Perhaps this is not a radical development…. Over the years I have had to stand on my own two feet time in and time out, that I often feel resentment over the fact that few people have provided true consistent emotional and material support, that I have, in all essence, always saved myself.
But perhaps what changed, is that I can see that more clearly, that I notice how I pull myself out, and now I just prefer it that way. I prefer my own abilities to soothe myself in some ways…. Not that there aren’t particular people who I still love who validate me and help me sort through things, but I can approach those relationships without the neediness, and without the neediness I can also see more clearly who sees me as a whole complete human being, who celebrates my other sides and dimensions, which has a powerful antidote to my depression, than narrowing myself into a pitiable caricature of my illness in need of a crisis counsellor. And I can see and feel the value I offer in those relationships as well, that people are sharing with me how they are navigating new obstacles, and are grateful for my emotional support.
I have always hated the cliched advice that you have to work “ on yourself” – and I absolutely think, that had the pandemic not happened, the love and care of a community is an absolutely wonderful thing, and no one should force themselves to isolate in order to become their own best friend. And I couldn’t survive without the consistent support of my therapist.
Here’s to hoping I can make it last…. That I can keep quality connections and recognize that I derive enough joy and support from myself to eschew the ones that pull me down.
Inside My Madness 