Reasons Why We Might Isolate Ourselves

Mental health spotlight

I love solitude. I wanted to say that first and foremost, because I don’t believe that being alone is at all the same as being lonely.

When I am enjoying my solitude, it allows me to read, write, think — and learning to accept that and make the best of it has played a part in settling me into a person I am comfortable with being.

Alone and making the most of my solitude is actually my favourite place to be.

As part of that state of contentment I happily use message services of various kinds, telephone and video calls sometimes — I may not be wanting to go out and mix with other people, but I’m not actively hiding from contact. There’s just nothing I enjoy more than being curled up with books to read; notebooks and my laptop so I can write; a good, hot, cup of tea; and a furry friend or two (or three, or four) on hand for loves and cuddles.

Going out socialising and getting drunk, been there done that. Oh how I’ve done that. Oh yes, done that, got the t-shirt, but now? No interest in any of that any more, none at all. So yes, I’m a full-on ‘homebody’ now. Which is probably just as well given the problems I deal with concerning my health; and the fact that I’m also caring for my partner, who’s health is even worse than mine.

We rarely leave the house these days, so it’s just as well we’re more than happy with our own and each others company, and the things we love to do keeping us occupied .

Conversely of course, there’s the other thing. Solitude’s evil twin. Isolation.

The tendency to isolate comes along when our mental health is not at it’s best.

For example, we might get the urge to isolate ourselves when under pressure from one of the following issues:

• Anxiety
• Depression
• Panic disorder
• Bpd (bipolar disorder)
• Chronic pain conditions
• Chronic illness
• Chronic fatigue
• PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder)
• C-PTSD
• Agoraphobia
• Physical disability

This list will not be exhaustive, most of the conditions on there are simply the ones I have most experience with. I have personal experience of most of them, which is somewhat depressing in itself; or for the other couple of issues, I’ve had close friends and relations who I’ve seen struggle with them.

Disclaimer: I am not a qualified mental health professional, any statements made hereon in I have either been told by someone who is a mental health professional; I have come across during the vast swathe of reading and listening I have done over the years, relating to an interest in this subject; or in other words, my own opinion.

Obviously, each of these health problems brings with it slightly different reasons why isolation might occur — but in my experience, they do have a tendency to ‘hang out’ together a lot of the time anyway.

To use myself as an example: my physical pain and fatigue flare to a point where I am really struggling to cope with even basic care for myself and my partner (and the house is looking increasingly grimy, because there’s no chance of managing cleaning). A, our twenty-one year old kid, steps up to help with animal care and meals, but they’ve got their own things to be doing (not least of which is their university coursework.)

As my physical pain and exhaustion levels creep up, I am likely to also experience more disturbance of my sleep patterns; increasing anxiety, lower moods; a higher likelihood of night terrors and panic attacks; creeping depression, low self-esteem and a bitch of a guilt complex; a higher incidence of flashback and dissociation episodes. All of this builds towards a dark and debilitating bout of clinical depression, with suicidal ideation and a helping of self-isolation/agoraphobia heaped on top.

When my mental health plummets into my boots I don’t simply prefer my own company. What is usually the case is that I’ve burned out, both mentally and physically to the point that I have simply lost the capacity to cope with being social in any way. I retreat into myself, usually finding it impossible to even discuss what’s going on with trusted friends and family. I become introspective and depressive. I isolate myself, because the thought of leaving the safety of my home brings me out in cold sweats and induces shortness of breath and rising panic.

Most often, we are counselled to push ourselves through agoraphobic tendencies. We are also advised that the best course of action with physical pain and fatigue conditions is to push on through as well. Learn to pace ourselves, so that we don’t burn through all of our energy before the first morning hours are done, but to keep on going. Keep exercising through the pain and exhaustion. Don’t give in. Don’t laze around in bed, or on the sofa at home feeling exhausted, in pain and depressed. Show some metal, some strength of character and Just Get On With It!!

I don’t subscribe to this current thinking.

If you’re running a marathon, sure, don’t stop when you hit the wall, keep pushing and get to the finish line. You’ll be exhausted, possibly to the point of collapse, by the time you get there — but, a hot bath, a good sleep, some aching limbs which will feel better with a massage, or simply given a little time….and you’ll be right as rain again. If you started from a place of good health anyway.

With chronic illness, chronic pain and chronic fatigue however, when you hit that point, the ‘wall’, you’re done. It doesn’t matter if you have ten more things to do that day; if you have an appointment in thirty minutes; if you were invited out to dinner with your friends or the lovely man you only just met. With this kind of ill health, when you’re done, you’re done. Come in number seven, your time is up. You crash. Hard.

There’s nothing to be gained from beating yourself up about it, aside from a speedy slide down into unhealthy mental states to go along with your physical ones.

When you live with all of the conditions I live with, I can certainly say from my own experience that the least helpful thing to do is to fight against yourself. If I really feel the need to stay in the house, cocoon myself with books, hot tea and animals — then that’s exactly what I do. If I have somewhere to be, but I’m struggling with pain/exhaustion/brain fog/rising panic I Cancel. I’m kind to myself.

Let’s say that again:

I’m kind to myself

A radically unusual concept it isn’t, but not really one which you’re likely to be hearing from the plethora of health professionals involved in your care. I’m saying it now though: Have patience with yourself, listen to your body and above all be kind.

As a last note, I want to just recommend a book which is on The Orwell Political Writing Book Prize shortlist:

Finalists | The Orwell Foundation (Marc do you follow this one? They’ve had some cracking titles over the years.)

The book in question is ‘Who Cares: The Hidden Crisis of Caregiving, and How We Solve It’. The author, Emily Kenway, writes about her own experience as primary caregiver for her terminally ill mother. Now, that situation is somewhat different to my own, in particulars of circumstance, but I felt I could certainly empathise with a lot of the things she writes about — like isolation. I’d definitely recommend that you also read it; however, I’m not at all familiar with a single one of the other seven books given a place in the shortlist, so I couldn’t hazard a guess as to which will be worthy of winning. (Winners will be announced at a prize ceremony on June 22nd, so watch this space).

Further reading relevant to this essay, from myself and other Counter Arts writers, you can find below — and if you find yourself inclined to top up my book buying funds at all, there’s a ‘Give A Tip’ button down there too.

Thanks for your time. Stay safe. Stay well. With love — Sadie