Isolation is an extremely common symptom of depression and often invoked as a warning sign for suicide. At this point in my life, it’s so intuitive to me that I forget other people don’t understand.
Isolation is a positive feedback loop; the more someone isolates the more they feel they need to isolate. Let me unpack some of that logic. Maybe you can see these behaviors in yourself and fight against them. Maybe you see someone you care about, and this can keep you from getting angry or personally hurt. It really isn’t about you.
Step 1: Not enough energy
So, I have one caveat here. I am an introvert; I lose energy being around (most) other people and gain it by spending time alone. I would guess that extroverts have a very different experience of isolation, and I’d like to hear more about that. I can’t find much information on it, but I’d guess that it takes longer for them to withdraw, but the negative effects ramp up quicker.
Anyway, for me the first thing that happens is I just don’t have enough energy to go out and do things. Depression is literally suppression of brain activity; you have less energy and cognitive space to work with. I need that energy to struggle to push forward a little in my job or take a shower or walk my dogs. I just don’t have it in me to go out and make conversation. It’s OK to take a break and recharge your batteries. But, if you don’t get back in the saddle after a week or so, things are probably going to get worse.
Step 2: Embarrassing mood swings
I have rapid cycling bipolar disorder, and if I’m not doing well (up or down) I’m likely to have at least one bizarre mood swing every couple of hours. This has often resulted in crying in public or sometimes raging at someone who usually would only have ticked me off. It’s embarrassing and potentially more damaging to a relationship than simply ghosting. So, I learned to ghost.
I know people think when I cancel plans at the last minute I’m just sitting at home watching Netflix and eating ice cream. I’m probably weeping in the shower then smashing things in the backyard. Or sleeping. Or staring at the wall for literally hours on end. Trust me, I am not having fun without you.
Step 3: Inability to find humor or joy in things
As I get further down the depression road I become really bad company. For starters, I spend all my time alone trying to cope with terrifying and painful emotions. What kind of conversation can you have about that that doesn’t make most people want to crawl out of their skin? I become less and less aware of things happening outside of my little world-movies, music, trends, news. If I’ve been depressed a week or two it’s not a big deal. But if I’ve been under for several months or a year? It’s humiliating. It’s like I’ve been in a cult.
Because of the depression I don’t enjoy anything. No matter what kind of fun-filled day you’ve planned, it’s very likely I won’t really enjoy it much. That doesn’t reflect on you at all. I just can’t. There’s no dopamine flowing.
Similarly, I really struggle with humor. I don’t get jokes. I certainly don’t make jokes. I struggle to celebrate other people’s good news. I am completely aware that I am Debbie Downer, yet I’m unable to pull out of it. It’s so uncomfortable, and I know I’m making other people uncomfortable. It makes me never want to go out again.
Step 4: Not identifying with other people
If you do manage to get out of the house and go out with people, it’s very likely you will feel like an alien. If you talk about what’s been going on you might end up feeling more alone than before. I have a couple of people who struggle in similar ways, and those are the people I have to start with. They never look at me like I’ve grown a tail. They don’t spout platitudes obviously designed to make me shut up. They don’t stop replying to me when I start talking about my fears.
It’s taken me a long time to realize this. I can’t expect just anyone I love or care about to be kind to me when I’m underwater.
Those people who brush you off, they can make you isolate even further. They don’t give you strength. They may care about you a lot, but they can’t empathize with you. Maybe they’re scared of losing you. Maybe they’re exhausted (as though we’re not). Maybe you gave them too much credit before and they really are selfish assholes. I recommend putting that relationship on hold for a while. It’s not your responsibility, as someone dealing with severe mental distress, to make other people feel OK.
I really do think it’s like drowning. Some people are good at pulling you out of it. Some people will hold your head underwater through panic or cowardice. Be brave enough to let go and tread water on your own. Try talking to people you don’t consider your “core” group. There may be someone that can help pull you out of that shell. If not, who cares? They were ancillary anyway.
Step 5: Guilt and shame
If isolation goes on long enough, the guilt and shame of “disappearing” is enough to fuel further isolation. Now, you don’t just have to get the energy to simply talk to someone, you must find the strength to be judged and possibly lectured on your “inconsiderate” behavior. Maybe you don’t believe you deserve a second chance.
Step 6: Shift in sense of time
Another thing that contributes to my long stretches of isolation is my warped perception of time. If my brain isn’t cooperating, months feel like weeks, years feel like months, and days just blend into each other. My perception of how long I’ve been gone and yours may be completely different. You may feel like we’re not even friends anymore, while I don’t perceive much time passing. This might also be extremely disorienting and damaging to relationships.
Step 7: No one seems to care that I’m missing
After a while, it becomes clear that no one seems to care that I’m gone. Once you realize “wow, I haven’t seen anyone in months!” you start to get upset about it. Most people won’t try to track you down. Most people won’t go the extra mile of surprising you at home or work just to see if you’re OK. In mainstream American culture that could be perceived as crossing boundaries. We have an informal “right to be left alone.” People might think it’s respectful to back off.
To me, it seems like you’re fine with me killing myself.
Recently, I’ve struggled with someone I love telling me that she thought I was being abused during my last period of isolation. I wasn’t, but I was extremely angry that people thought I was in physical danger and didn’t try to intervene at any point. When you start to come out of the hole, people might tell you crazy things. That’s extremely hard to take when you’re still on shaky ground. I’m still trying really hard not to interpret that as “We were all OK with you being murdered.” It certainly feels like that.
Step 8: How long can I go missing before someone cares?
Once you get into the mind set of “no one notices or cares that I’m gone” you might start testing it. I think I am probably guilty of this. You start noticing how infrequently anyone tries to talk to you. You notice how they don’t try again if you are unable to respond. I start doing the math about how long it would take people to figure out I was dead. Once you’ve been in full isolation for a long time, it could take weeks. It would probably only be the smell. That doesn’t give you much sense of purpose.
There is no “selfishness” in suicide when no one even cares if you’re alive or not.
Step 9: Paranoia
I’ve talked before about depressive delusions and how they get stronger in a social vacuum. It’s hard to imagine people are just trying to give you space, or that anyone is hoping you’ll come back. It seems as clear as day that they hate you. They want you to fail. They want you to die so they don’t have to think about it anymore. You imagine what they’ll say about you when you’re gone. “It was inevitable.” You know it wasn’t inevitable, but they wanted to isolate you, to cull you from the herd for some reason.
Nothing will ever get better because they will never want you. No one will ever want you. Since you’re by yourself all day and night, there’s no one and nothing to slow or correct these thoughts. I can’t tell you how real they feel. It is the TRUTH. You start to see the hate in people’s eyes when you do see anyone. You can tell they want you gone. You know they’re talking about their life to make it clear to you that yours isn’t worth living. You hunker down in your now-fortress. You might despair; you might rage.
>>>>>>>>>>>
I’m currently pulling myself (very slowly) out of a deep, dark hole. Perhaps the most important change has been reconnecting with my best friend, who is also pulling himself out of a similar hole. I know it may seem counterintuitive to a lot of people, but having someone to rage with, to hurt with, makes the pain less intense. We are social animals. The neurological rewards of being social (if you feel accepted) are wide-ranging and cascading. An inch of progress will give you the strength to go a foot.
It’s not perfect, and I still have bad days. That’s the nature of the beast. But everything in my life gets better when I’ve been able to spend some time with friends. It’s the only time I can relax. If I’m alone I don’t feel like I deserve to relax or have fun. I feel so far behind in life that I must spend every ounce of strength playing catch up. If I can reframe it as doing something for someone else (even just watching TV with them) that seems to give me the go-ahead to slow down and enjoy things.
It was uncomfortable at first, but it quickly became normal. I hate the experience of going back to work and having everyone tell me, “haven’t seen you in a while, where have you been?” It should feel like I was missed, but it feels like an accusation. However, things always go back to normal more quickly than I expect.
If you’ve been away for a long time just try to show up. I had to start at the very bottom of agoraphobia. A year ago, it was an accomplishment to leave my apartment to go to the grocery store. I had to go at 2:00 in the morning so no one was there, but I left my fortress. Then I started going at busier and busier times. It felt stupid. It felt like it wasn’t enough. But I couldn’t have started immediately back at full social butterfly mode. I had to start where I was. Just show up. If you have to leave early, that’s fine. It’s like exercise. Every attempt makes you stronger. It will be hard; it won’t be as hard as you’ve come to believe.
I’m the girl who hid in the art room closet to eat lunch alone every day in high school. If I can crawl out of the hole, you can too.
Isolation is a positive feedback loop; the more someone isolates the more they feel they need to isolate. Let me unpack some of that logic. Maybe you can see these behaviors in yourself and fight against them. Maybe you see someone you care about, and this can keep you from getting angry or personally hurt. It really isn’t about you.
Step 1: Not enough energy
So, I have one caveat here. I am an introvert; I lose energy being around (most) other people and gain it by spending time alone. I would guess that extroverts have a very different experience of isolation, and I’d like to hear more about that. I can’t find much information on it, but I’d guess that it takes longer for them to withdraw, but the negative effects ramp up quicker.
Anyway, for me the first thing that happens is I just don’t have enough energy to go out and do things. Depression is literally suppression of brain activity; you have less energy and cognitive space to work with. I need that energy to struggle to push forward a little in my job or take a shower or walk my dogs. I just don’t have it in me to go out and make conversation. It’s OK to take a break and recharge your batteries. But, if you don’t get back in the saddle after a week or so, things are probably going to get worse.
Step 2: Embarrassing mood swings
I have rapid cycling bipolar disorder, and if I’m not doing well (up or down) I’m likely to have at least one bizarre mood swing every couple of hours. This has often resulted in crying in public or sometimes raging at someone who usually would only have ticked me off. It’s embarrassing and potentially more damaging to a relationship than simply ghosting. So, I learned to ghost.
I know people think when I cancel plans at the last minute I’m just sitting at home watching Netflix and eating ice cream. I’m probably weeping in the shower then smashing things in the backyard. Or sleeping. Or staring at the wall for literally hours on end. Trust me, I am not having fun without you.
 |
| Or this. I do a LOT of this. |
Step 3: Inability to find humor or joy in things
As I get further down the depression road I become really bad company. For starters, I spend all my time alone trying to cope with terrifying and painful emotions. What kind of conversation can you have about that that doesn’t make most people want to crawl out of their skin? I become less and less aware of things happening outside of my little world-movies, music, trends, news. If I’ve been depressed a week or two it’s not a big deal. But if I’ve been under for several months or a year? It’s humiliating. It’s like I’ve been in a cult.
Because of the depression I don’t enjoy anything. No matter what kind of fun-filled day you’ve planned, it’s very likely I won’t really enjoy it much. That doesn’t reflect on you at all. I just can’t. There’s no dopamine flowing.
Similarly, I really struggle with humor. I don’t get jokes. I certainly don’t make jokes. I struggle to celebrate other people’s good news. I am completely aware that I am Debbie Downer, yet I’m unable to pull out of it. It’s so uncomfortable, and I know I’m making other people uncomfortable. It makes me never want to go out again.
Step 4: Not identifying with other people
If you do manage to get out of the house and go out with people, it’s very likely you will feel like an alien. If you talk about what’s been going on you might end up feeling more alone than before. I have a couple of people who struggle in similar ways, and those are the people I have to start with. They never look at me like I’ve grown a tail. They don’t spout platitudes obviously designed to make me shut up. They don’t stop replying to me when I start talking about my fears.
It’s taken me a long time to realize this. I can’t expect just anyone I love or care about to be kind to me when I’m underwater.
Those people who brush you off, they can make you isolate even further. They don’t give you strength. They may care about you a lot, but they can’t empathize with you. Maybe they’re scared of losing you. Maybe they’re exhausted (as though we’re not). Maybe you gave them too much credit before and they really are selfish assholes. I recommend putting that relationship on hold for a while. It’s not your responsibility, as someone dealing with severe mental distress, to make other people feel OK.
I really do think it’s like drowning. Some people are good at pulling you out of it. Some people will hold your head underwater through panic or cowardice. Be brave enough to let go and tread water on your own. Try talking to people you don’t consider your “core” group. There may be someone that can help pull you out of that shell. If not, who cares? They were ancillary anyway.
Step 5: Guilt and shame
If isolation goes on long enough, the guilt and shame of “disappearing” is enough to fuel further isolation. Now, you don’t just have to get the energy to simply talk to someone, you must find the strength to be judged and possibly lectured on your “inconsiderate” behavior. Maybe you don’t believe you deserve a second chance.
Step 6: Shift in sense of time
Another thing that contributes to my long stretches of isolation is my warped perception of time. If my brain isn’t cooperating, months feel like weeks, years feel like months, and days just blend into each other. My perception of how long I’ve been gone and yours may be completely different. You may feel like we’re not even friends anymore, while I don’t perceive much time passing. This might also be extremely disorienting and damaging to relationships.
Step 7: No one seems to care that I’m missing
After a while, it becomes clear that no one seems to care that I’m gone. Once you realize “wow, I haven’t seen anyone in months!” you start to get upset about it. Most people won’t try to track you down. Most people won’t go the extra mile of surprising you at home or work just to see if you’re OK. In mainstream American culture that could be perceived as crossing boundaries. We have an informal “right to be left alone.” People might think it’s respectful to back off.
To me, it seems like you’re fine with me killing myself.
Recently, I’ve struggled with someone I love telling me that she thought I was being abused during my last period of isolation. I wasn’t, but I was extremely angry that people thought I was in physical danger and didn’t try to intervene at any point. When you start to come out of the hole, people might tell you crazy things. That’s extremely hard to take when you’re still on shaky ground. I’m still trying really hard not to interpret that as “We were all OK with you being murdered.” It certainly feels like that.
Step 8: How long can I go missing before someone cares?
Once you get into the mind set of “no one notices or cares that I’m gone” you might start testing it. I think I am probably guilty of this. You start noticing how infrequently anyone tries to talk to you. You notice how they don’t try again if you are unable to respond. I start doing the math about how long it would take people to figure out I was dead. Once you’ve been in full isolation for a long time, it could take weeks. It would probably only be the smell. That doesn’t give you much sense of purpose.
There is no “selfishness” in suicide when no one even cares if you’re alive or not.
Step 9: Paranoia
I’ve talked before about depressive delusions and how they get stronger in a social vacuum. It’s hard to imagine people are just trying to give you space, or that anyone is hoping you’ll come back. It seems as clear as day that they hate you. They want you to fail. They want you to die so they don’t have to think about it anymore. You imagine what they’ll say about you when you’re gone. “It was inevitable.” You know it wasn’t inevitable, but they wanted to isolate you, to cull you from the herd for some reason.
Nothing will ever get better because they will never want you. No one will ever want you. Since you’re by yourself all day and night, there’s no one and nothing to slow or correct these thoughts. I can’t tell you how real they feel. It is the TRUTH. You start to see the hate in people’s eyes when you do see anyone. You can tell they want you gone. You know they’re talking about their life to make it clear to you that yours isn’t worth living. You hunker down in your now-fortress. You might despair; you might rage.
>>>>>>>>>>>
I’m currently pulling myself (very slowly) out of a deep, dark hole. Perhaps the most important change has been reconnecting with my best friend, who is also pulling himself out of a similar hole. I know it may seem counterintuitive to a lot of people, but having someone to rage with, to hurt with, makes the pain less intense. We are social animals. The neurological rewards of being social (if you feel accepted) are wide-ranging and cascading. An inch of progress will give you the strength to go a foot.
It’s not perfect, and I still have bad days. That’s the nature of the beast. But everything in my life gets better when I’ve been able to spend some time with friends. It’s the only time I can relax. If I’m alone I don’t feel like I deserve to relax or have fun. I feel so far behind in life that I must spend every ounce of strength playing catch up. If I can reframe it as doing something for someone else (even just watching TV with them) that seems to give me the go-ahead to slow down and enjoy things.
It was uncomfortable at first, but it quickly became normal. I hate the experience of going back to work and having everyone tell me, “haven’t seen you in a while, where have you been?” It should feel like I was missed, but it feels like an accusation. However, things always go back to normal more quickly than I expect.
If you’ve been away for a long time just try to show up. I had to start at the very bottom of agoraphobia. A year ago, it was an accomplishment to leave my apartment to go to the grocery store. I had to go at 2:00 in the morning so no one was there, but I left my fortress. Then I started going at busier and busier times. It felt stupid. It felt like it wasn’t enough. But I couldn’t have started immediately back at full social butterfly mode. I had to start where I was. Just show up. If you have to leave early, that’s fine. It’s like exercise. Every attempt makes you stronger. It will be hard; it won’t be as hard as you’ve come to believe.
I’m the girl who hid in the art room closet to eat lunch alone every day in high school. If I can crawl out of the hole, you can too.
Comments
Post a Comment