CONNECTION ADDICT

I've been home alone for seven days while Hub is off on a snowboarding trip -- his first of several planned this season.  I decided after a troubling and depression-inducing couple of difficult interactions with people recently that I needed a re-set -- a "people break" -- while he was gone.  

So as soon as he pulled out of the driveway I began a silent/solo retreat where I intended to sequester myself from other people (mostly).  I had no energy or interest for being with anyone.  To do so felt overwhelming.  Plus, I was pretty sure everyone hated me, because Depression told me so.  So, I cancelled all my social plans for the week (or what passes for social plans in this time of Covid resurgence -- a couple of Zoom get togethers, my yoga class (after signing up for a solo intensive online training), a tentative in-person meet-up,  a phone chat with a friend, and all email/social media interaction.  I told Hub I didn't want to talk on the phone or email or message him except to exchange one photo each day that represented something we liked about our day or how we were feeling.  I wanted to be non-verbal.

What I noticed is that my friends all were gracious and understanding of my cancellations.  And while I don't feel addicted to social media, it felt different and weird to scroll a bit each day and not do a knee-jerk "like", "comment", or "post".  I saw some funny things, thought-provoking things, uplifting things, friends doing stuff -- and I had to keep reminding myself that I was not participating.  It got easier, but not easy, yet it felt like a good exercise in self-control anyway.  

Which led me to think about how important connections are to me.  I am an introvert and as such close and intimate friendship, longstanding friendship, social media friendship, all feed my soul.  I don't need or want to go to big in-person gatherings, although I have and I can.  There is misnomer that introverts are loners who don't need others or prefer to be alone.  Sometimes I do prefer to be alone, appreciate being alone, crave being alone...but that in no way points to being someone who has no need of other people.  I, more than most I think, really do need to feel part of a group, part of people's lives, someone people like and care about.  I work hard to try to ensure that happens.  I try to be a good friend to get a good friend. I work at organizing and facilitating groups of people and have for 50 years in some capacity or another.  I don't avoid people!

Yet, as with most things, my people-craving tendency likely goes back to a childhood of being fairly 'invisible' in my family, the middle "good girl" between two sometimes rambunctious brothers who sucked up all the attention, even if lots of it was negative.  I sat quietly, waiting, while I watched my self-esteem evaporate.  My parents were loving and caring and I was in no way "neglected" in the classic sense, but neither was I seen for who and what I was in any meaningful way, except to be praised for being "good" or point out the ways I could be better.  

Naturally there is lots more to this story, but at this point in my long life I am finally coming to terms with my "addiction" to need to be in connection with other people.  

Recently two incidents occurred that stabbed at my little girl wound and I went into a tailspin of self-loathing.  That was not productive, but if you've experienced depression you understand that a significant "trigger" event will drag you into the dark hole with zero ability to access rational higher executive order functioning to "talk yourself out of it" -- nor can anyone else.  

But I have learned over my lifetime, that eventually the Monster will grow tired, I'll find a lifeline in a book or a friend's kindness, or an "a-ha" conversation or a train of thought, and I start to climb out again.  That's where I am today.  Plus the sun is shining -- always a gift in these dark gray winter days.

So this thing with people:  I felt I needed to experiment with being truly alone.  I needed time and space to think about the triggers that pulled me under and what part I played and what part others did--mostly around agreements made and broken, expectations dashed, fears of emotional abandonment showing up as judgement.  

I needed to also just STOP trying so damn hard to analyze everything and just "be"; this week moving through my days as I was called to internally:  read, eat, clean a closet, meditate, listen to a podcast, write, nap, watch TV, go for a walk, consider taking a shower...giving myself permission to let go of any and all obligations and expectations for accomplishment, productivity, or people-pleasing.  When any ruminating started, I stopped it in its tracks with mindfulness awareness of only the present moment. (Thank you to every meditation teacher I've ever had! 🙏🏽)

I find myself today in a place of peace and contentment, feeling a sweet longing to welcome Hub into my little cocoon of warmth and silence when he returns.  I have no illusions that "real life" won't intrude upon my refuge when I open the doors again to interacting with people.  And I again will be imperfect in those connections, as will others.  

But what feels different is that I have practiced being alone -- physically AND emotionally.  I don't need to grasp for and crave "belonging" in order to feel safe.  I just need to be quiet and at peace with my own company, trusting my own inner guide and nurturer. From this place I can let go of all longing and expectation for relationship and connection to feed me and make me safe.  I can welcome it when it comes and allow its absence when it doesn't.  This might seem easy or like commonsense to some of you.  We are all different with different hurt places. I've lived with mine for a long, long time.  Maybe this is a step in healing it. 

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com