Isolation
Posted by JohnD
Some Rights Reserved by Eddi 07 at Flickr
Susan and Dano have presented in comments here two different ideas about isolation that I need to explore more deeply, with your help. This is hard for me to pin down alone. My mind wants to wander, to lose focus, to put itself to sleep because this gets at something I don’t want to face – so bear with me as I try to chain together a few thoughts about what is happening in the urge or the necessity to isolate.
Dano has written with crushing power about the worst times of depression when the illness flattens her under its unremitting pressure and pain. Isolation, then, is not a choice but a necessity. The ability to face others, to speak, to interact is completely stripped away.
I know that when I’m crashing into the thicket of Depression, I need to be alone. The very act of making eye contact, speaking, inhaling and exhaling have become monumental tasks. I feel contagious, as if by even being near me, others will get sucked into my mental black hole.
I know this feeling. When it hits, I can’t talk, can’t think, can hardly move in any direction. And all I’m hearing are voices tearing into my soul, full of hate and contempt. It becomes so intense I think I can’t stand living with myself for another minute. That’s when my inner rebellion begins, and I know it’s a battle for survival. The determination comes back that I’m not going to be defeated by this illness, I won’t let my mind be poisoned into wishing for death. That’s the inner struggle going on. If I don’t isolate myself to get through this fight, I won’t last long. That’s not choosing isolation – it’s a victory for survival and inner resilience.
Susan wrote in a comment here about a different state of feeling – or at least one that I see as very different. She calls it a Siren song of isolation -
I long for it when I am depressed, take the phone off the hook, don’t collect the mail, no human contact. I don’t want it. A few days into it, I long for it, but get so afraid of it…..I’ve lost so many friends over the years through this I don’t know. How can you long for something which is so toxic, but sings to you like a siren and destroys you in the end, and all your friendships and love relationships?
The Siren song is a good comparison. In Homer’s story, that song is an irresistible call to sailors passing the Sirens’ island, only to lure them to their deaths. Ulysses wants to know what their song sounds like so has his crew tie him to the ship’s mast, then seal their ears with wax, warning them not to pay attention to anything he might say or do to get them to obey the Siren’s call. So he listens and fiercely orders his men to free him and to head for the nearby island where the Sirens live. They ignore him and so he and his men survive. He has managed to outwit another of the fatal snares set for him and other travelers in their dangerous voyage. It’s a great fable for this problem.
I’ve heard this song too and have longed to give into it. But, like Susan, I know it will destroy me if I do. So what’s the equivalent of tying myself to the mast? I have no ship’s crew to turn to for help because I am not letting them get near me, but if that’ s true, I’ve already given in. I have to search back to the first moment I feel this lure, the first step I take to seal myself off. What is that? One of my best defenses against other symptoms is simply catching myself starting to accept the reality of the symptom. That’s where I have to stop and think; This is not a real state of mine – it’s a symptom of depression – shut it down, kick it out, just stop it! NOW!
That has worked when I start hearing the voice in my head telling me I can’t do anything right, I’m no good at this, give it up. I can catch myself believing that trash and yell back NO, shut up, you have nothing to do with me! And recently, I’ve been able to catch myself falling into another trap, especially when I’m writing, trying to reach deep inside, express real feeling. I suddenly get foggy in mind and feel the need to sleep, or I actually start nodding off in front of the computer. I know damn well that if I give in to that, I will wake up not refreshed but sluggish and more depressed than ever because my defenses are down. What I do instead is jump to an alternate activity, something more mechanical that can absorb my attention for a few minutes – or I get outside in the air, pace around, look up at the sky, respond to the simple life of the day, feel a part of that, come alive again. Then I can go back to writing, truly refreshed and energized.
What, then, is the first thing I do to isolate myself? In my case, as I think about it now, I stop talking to people, everyone, focus on my own thoughts, which suddenly take so much attention that I hardly notice anything or anyone around me. If I’m already alone, I cut off every possible way I might be reached. Turn off phones, computers, don’t respond to any knocking at my awareness, withdraw into a mesmerizing passivity, staring into a rich nothingness that offers a hope of inner peace.
This depression’s disguise as a pleasant condition promising restoration. It is inducing me to step aside from a troubling day, take a little rest, a little harmless rest. I can see myself soaking into the feeling, like bathing in perfect water. I want to slide under the surface and glide, glide smoothly in comfort and tranquility, the medium I flow in offering no resistance. I long to become one with it, feel myself dissolving in its warmth, wanting nothing more than to disappear as I descend.
But in the midst of that I can suddenly see I’m heading into a kind of death, either literal destruction or the emptiness of a total blockade against everything in my life. Panic sets in, and I am desperate to back away. By then, though, a lot of damage has already been done, especially to those closest to me, who have so much support to offer until I shut them out without a word.
All that I know how to do is to catch myself at that first sensation of yearning for the comfort of solitude. If I can recognize that, call it what it is – another symptom, not a real need of mine – I can see around it, avoid it, reach out to my loved ones and simply say, here’s what’s happening, I’m trying to fight, bear with me. Get a few words out, let myself hear a voice responding and so move farther and farther away from the fake call of a deadly Siren.
What do you do to break out of this trap?
Hi John,
Been thinking about isolation too, I am in the midst of a 4 day total isolation right now.
Let me think about the salient positions you raised with your eloquence and get back to you when my brain is a little less fuzzy.
Thank you. p.s. Added you to my blogroll.
Oh I am so glad that you have met/know susan! She is absolutely wonderful and has been a support to me in the blog world through my own times of depression.
Isolation. Yes I know it well. I feel during those times that I do not wish to burden anyone with me…with this melancholy. I feel like a beast who needs to hide from the sun and humankind until I am well again.
And sometimes it actually does help to not be around people. It takes so much energy that I do not have to engage. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t wish for people to try.
I think it is truly up to the individual to decide when isolation becomes detrimental to healing and when it is necessary for healing. It is a tough call to make especially when you are unable to think during those black dog days.
Sometimes just a teensy bit of engagement is all I need to get me to speed up the process. I have a friend who knows me well who writes to me and simply asks if I will type out one word…”okay” or “hello” or whatver…just as a smoke signal that I am here and responsive. Completing this simple act of engagement makes me feel successful during the bad times.
Excellent question and post as usual. Love your blog and I definitely will spread the word about you.
Isolation … I have to push hard sometimes to even make real contact with my husband. But I know that I’m beginning to emerge from the depths when I start having actual conversations with the people I trust. Yesterday and today, I had three, so I know I’ve turned a corner after eight months in the dumps.
I have a distinction between isolation and solitude: Solitude is a quiet space … I’m engaged with some creative activity, whether it be reading, writing, thinking … Isolation is just that: cut off. No creation; no contact or relation. I’m also out of touch with anything in my mind that can imagine reaching out …
This is a wonderful, beautifully presented blog … Thank you for it :-)
It is so much easier to deal with people if you don’t. Hide in hte house. Surf the Internet. Feel in control.
Unfortunately isolation intensifies the problems. They exaggerate, inflate, explode. Minute details become all-important without feedback from other real, live people.
Instead of avoiding others because of this feeling that I will drag them down, I seek them out with the intention of avoiding complaints, finding something positive to say, enjoying the few moments they may grant me, that being present and The Present.
My apologies for being so late responding. I’ve let too many distractions keep me from this most precious part of blogging.
Susan – I know that fuzziness of mind. It is one of the worst parts of those low times because, as you say, you can’t focus enough on anything. My defenses and tricks for coping go away – the fully formed thoughts and intentions disappear. Best of luck in getting out of that state.
Merely Me – I like your friend’s way of helping you start to come back to connecting with people. Writing down what I’m feeling is usually the one thing I can bear to do and it always helps.
Jaliya – Eight months! I’m glad you’re finally coming out of that. My main reason for taking medication is to restore enough clarity of mind that I can at least get work done, even when I don’t want to face people. And that helps bring me back. I hope you can find some way of cutting those months down at least to weeks. And thank you for those kind words. I look forward to getting to know your blog.
Georganna – Thank you for this insight about your experience. It sounds like you have a way of catching yourself before you get too deep into isolation, and that checks its power. It’s so helpful to hear the different ways people have learned to cope.
John D
hi, I’ve just read your posting, and interested to it… Because I’ve through my isolated life for almost 3 years.
I was suffered depression for almost 3 years, and hide myself from everyone, even to my own girlfriend, spend my day to other days hanging alone in cafe for hours, just sitting and reading… Totally alone. It’s very hard even to make simple human contact to other person. I had my breakthrough 4 month ago, when I met a hypnotherapist and try to understand my deep feeling.
Now I’m already able to make simple contact to human again, yet it still difficult to make longterm relationship (for romance, friendship, or business partner) but I keep trying, never looked back. I also started blogging (to refresh my English skill, and making money).
Thanks for your post. I won’t destruct myself again, and you gave me brief inside look.
Sometimes I don’t think I suffer from depression, just loneliness. I feel completely alone in the world with nobody to talk to. I hate that the more depressed you are, the more you need friends to pull you out of it, but the more depressed you are, the more your friends can’t understand you. They don’t know what to do or say. Or they are too busy. Or you just repel them with your nothingness. Or they don’t care enough.
My experience is weird I know, I think because I am 17 and never had “romantic relationships” and don’t really have a family, so its just friends that I rely on. But they are 17 too, busy with their futures and would rather be with happy people.
ian – I’m glad you’ve made a breakthrough, and I would be interested to know more about hypnotherapy. I have no experience of that at all. Good for you that you’re not looking back – here’s hoping you can go the rest of the way for those longer term relationships.
Aurora – It is one of the terrible parts of depression (and in my case at least the loneliness comes from this problem) that friends can desert you when you most need them. I find that many people are not just turned off by your mood but some are frightened. That’s one of the reactions that leads them to say unsympathetic or cruel things. Your experience is not weird at all. In my twenties, I lived in the West Village in Manhattan, a crowded center of creative people, and in depression was as lonely as could be. And married men in their forties have told me exactly the same thing, despite family and a busy life. I hope you reach out for some help – if not from friends, from a counselor or someone who can help sort out what’s going on.
I don’t know how ready I am to read more entries. I’ve been here a few times now and I’m so very much struck by the artwork you include in your entries. I think that’s why I keep coming back. As I said, I’m kind of not ready to read but trust me when I say the art speaks volumes. This piece here is magnificently powerful.
Austin of Sundrip Journals
Hello,
I read with interest your article on Isolation. I found it interesting how people say they need to be alone, away from other people, when they are feeling low. I have to say that I am mostly the opposite; I get down when there is no one around to talk to. Its probably because I am then left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts in my head. I am by no means a social creature, I really only have my mother to turn to. After 10 years of being alone I really wish i had someone to talk to, the ability to go out and meet people. Who knows, perhaps if I had friends I would experience similar feelings as what has been written about above. Isolation for me, is a major contributer to my depression.
Austin -
Thank you for your kind words about the images – that means a lot to me coming from such an accomplished artist. I hope you will be able to read more in time. There is someone I often have in mind when writing here, but that person also just can’t read the blog. I guess reading about all this takes getting used to, or a kind of readiness. My best wishes to you!
Hips Magee -
I’ve been through long lonely periods such as you describe – and it seemed to me that aloneness would never end. Eventually it did, but I then found that I still had depression with me. Often I could be just as lonely surrounded by loving people because I could hardly see or hear them. I hope you have a good source of support and treatment to deal with the depression. Best of luck to you.