Don't Go Dark

In tough times, it's easy to isolate. Here's why you shouldn't.

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

On my limb-girdle muscular dystrophy journey, I’ve experienced periods of intense isolation. Some of it was due to life circumstances — living far away from friends, health challenges, etc. But much of it has been my own doing.

Although I understand the temptation to withdraw, I know firsthand how destructive isolation can be to our resilience, and ultimately, our mental health.

Today’s post is about how to combat isolation — understanding why we do it, and ultimately, what can be done to break out of this trap.

The road to isolation

In hard times, it's easy to become consumed by our struggles. Health. Finances. Relationships. Unfulfilled dreams. The state of the world. When our minds are constantly processing new stressors and fears, and there are no easy answers in sight, our mental energy drains, our nerves fray, and our emotional reserves are depleted.

When this happens, social interaction becomes a chore, something to endure instead of enjoy. Even small talk begins to feel like an impromptu speech in front of a packed audience. Sometimes, without even realizing it, we begin to disappear — not physically, but emotionally. We can be surrounded by people who love us and still feel completely, utterly, alone.

This is the road to isolation. But exhaustion is only part of the story. Deeper reasons are also at play:

Shame. We don’t want to admit that what we’re going through is a problem, or that adversity is getting the best of us. We fear that if people find out about our struggles, we’d be letting them down. Or they might look at us differently, like we’re damaged goods.

We feel like a burden. Even when we know deep down that our friends and loved ones want us to be open about things, we fear that speaking up will saddle them with our baggage. We don’t want them to feel like they always need to be “on call” to jump into problem-solving mode on our behalf.

We want to protect others. It's not just about how we'll be perceived — we also don't want our pain to become their pain. We don't want them to lose sleep worrying about us, or feel sad because we’re struggling. So we withdraw, convincing ourselves that this is our problem, and ours alone.

We don’t want to be defined by our struggles. If our problems are always the topic of conversation, we believe that people will grow tired of hearing about them — or worse, that our struggles will become our whole identity in their eyes. As if all the qualities that make us special are less important than what we’re going through.

In my life, I’ve faced all these issues. When my symptoms worsened after college, I was so consumed by fear and sadness that I had no energy to be social. Instead of hanging out with friends on the weekends, I chose to stay home and watch TV. Then, as the weakness accelerated and basic movements like walking and climbing stairs became difficult, I struggled to open up about my challenges, and more specifically, ask for help.

I was ashamed by my lack of resilience. I didn’t want to burden my family and friends with worry. And I didn’t want anyone to look at me differently.

It took years for me to let people in on what was going on in my life and embrace the power of connection, but once I did, I felt better equipped to handle what came next.¹

Isolation is a trap

And yet, to this day, this lesson has been hard to hold onto.

When life gets difficult and my problems accumulate, I find myself retreating into isolation.

Why? It’s just…easier.

Connection involves showing up as our messy, imperfect selves. If you’re anything like me, this can be an uncomfortable process even when life is going well. Isolation, on the other hand, requires no vulnerability and takes little to no energy.

Isolation might feel better, but as I’ve learned, it’s a trap.

Some solitude is good every once in a while, don’t get me wrong. We can’t be social butterflies 24/7. But when withdrawal becomes a default response to hard times, it can make tough times even tougher.

Every time we ignore a friend’s text, say no to a social gathering, or stop showing up in our community, we reinforce our isolation, making it that much harder to reverse course.

The longer this goes on, the more our problems accumulate.

When we isolate, there’s no one to offer their perspective, talk through solutions, or simply be present to validate our pain. There’s no opportunity to commiserate about the weather, fret about current events, or update one another on how our families are doing. Without these friendly voices to brighten our day, we’re left with just the voice in our heads — which, for most of us, is critical and unforgiving.

When our inner monologue becomes the dominant narrative we hear, it goes unchallenged. In the absence of other voices, it takes full advantage, reminding us of our failures and character flaws.

In our lowest moments, it tells us that the struggle we face is permanent, and that reaching out is futile. It says:

“You’re incompetent.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“No one wants to hear your problems.”

“No one cares about you.”

In isolation, it’s hard to refute these claims. No one actually said these words, and yet, we take them as the truth. Meanwhile, the perspective, support, and help we need — which others can provide — remain just out of reach.

So we soldier on alone, waiting for things to get better. Then, when they don’t, it reinforces the negative script playing in our minds. We feel worse about ourselves, which leads to destructive behaviors and further isolation.

What starts as a simple “no” becomes a lonely way of life.

Escaping the trap

Every time I feel isolated, it’s because I’ve lost sight of how healing it is to have a genuine conversation. But when I remember how connection has changed my life, I’m motivated to open up.

The key to this process is a good memory. Let me explain with an example.

The last few months have been hard for me, between health challenges, the enduring stress of an unfinished book, and the self-reflection that comes from approaching a milestone birthday. I just haven’t been in a social mood, and as an introvert, it’s mentally taxing to chat when I’m not feeling my best.

Many times, I’ve been tempted to cancel a call, ignore an email from a friend, or stay indoors for days on end. But just as I’m about to withdraw, I stop myself from making this mistake.

Because I know that when the temptation is greatest, I need connection the most.

Some of the most important conversations I’ve ever had were with family and friends who helped me through a low moment. Their support — whether it was reminiscing, laughing, or hearing their words of encouragement — was just what I needed to weather the storm. Their presence and love served as reminders that for all I’m going through, I’m not alone, unless I choose to be.

The benefits of connection extend beyond close relationships. Sometimes, just leaving the house — going into town, attending church, exchanging small talk with a stranger — is enough to improve my mood and put my challenges in perspective.

These moments of connection fill me with fulfillment, and ultimately with hope. Every time I make an effort to escape the isolation trap, I feel better.

Every single time.

We are made for connection

Life is hard for everyone, and yet we often believe we’re the only ones in the world dealing with our challenges. But no matter what you’re going through, you’re not as alone as you think.

Others have faced what you’re facing, felt what you’re feeling, and found their way through it.

Connection is how you find them — and with time, the meaning, joy, and strength to keep going.

A few simple ways to foster connection

When we’re isolated, it takes a lot of energy to be social. This is why it helps to start small. Even little bits of connection can build momentum and make a difference.

Here are a few simple actions that can help you get started:

1. Write down important conversations that have changed your life. When you’re tempted to cancel a Zoom chat with a friend, use this list to remember what can happen when you show up.

2. Expand your network. Sometimes it’s easier to reach out to someone who isn’t aware of your life’s story. If there’s someone whose work has influenced you (a writer, speaker, musician, etc.) or is doing something you admire, send them a message. If they respond (and they often do!), it can motivate you to do more outreach.

3. Tie connection to a hobby. It’s easier to talk to people when you’re doing something you enjoy, especially when it has nothing to do with your problems. My fantasy baseball leagues are a fun way to stay in touch with my friends and talk about something other than my challenges.

4. Text someone who brings a smile to your face. Send them a simple text. “Just saying hi”, or “How are things?” works great. Small talk works too. Mention a book you’re reading, the changing weather, or share a picture you just took. Not every conversation requires baring your soul.

5. Honor your commitments. The next time you’re tempted to postpone a call, or skip the gym, or miss church, don’t. Sometimes fostering connection simply means not falling off the map.

Do Loss

My friend Sue Deagle of The Luminist is out with her new book, Do Loss: A New Way to Move Through Change. In it, Sue shares her grief journey in the aftermath of losing her husband Mike in 2016, detailing the tools and strategies she learned to navigate loss, and ultimately, grow from it.

If you’re struggling to process a loss, or know someone who is, this is a powerful and practical read. Sue’s an excellent writer and approaches the topic with great empathy. Order your copy today!

1. I’ve written about opening up several times, which I’ve included in the hyperlinks in the previous paragraphs. I don’t mean to gloss over this part of my journey — rather, these posts do a great job of describing that experience in detail.