isolation: a lovely beige existence
29 April 2020
HA! this post is long and doesn't say much...
During this weird time of isolation or what I’ve been thinking of as a sort of world metamorphosis, most people, who I’ve spoken to, are feeling some sort of anxiety or having weird dreams. Yet, I haven’t been. I was incredibly unsettled when I was sick a few weeks ago though, and couldn’t sleep for a bit then, but now I am really fine and calm. They are saying introverts are relishing the spaciousness and the slower pace of their days, and I guess I could fall into that category.
When I was a teenager, I felt so different to everyone around me and I guess my strong sense of self was partially formed out of that perceived “abnormality”. Although as I grow and continue to examine what I am in relation to the world, I feel exceptionally typical - beige, one could even say. I get a sense of achievement with cooking veggies before they go off, doing all my washing, having an organised house with clear surfaces, with having a full tank of petrol in my car or taking Sophie for a walk. I make my bed, I shower, I listen to talk radio, I pay my bills. I constantly fold and put away tea towels and call it my “spiritual practice”. And yes, I often bake banana bread. Essentially, I have been made for isolation.
I know for a fact that living with depression kind of forces me to function by following a blueprint of how to live, to know how to wake up and do all the things other adults generally do. Maintaining my own survival is a habit I have had to consciously and deliberately form, as lots of people do. I continually have to zoom my attention in to seek out moments of joy and appreciation. I have been teaching myself to say, “this will be nice” (because whatever it is, probably will be), and to not focus on my consistent dread and exhaustion. Like this, I live quite confidently and peacefully.
However, this matter-over-mind approach to living sometimes means not dwelling in my heart too often or for too long, and actively stopping myself from doing so. It’s not that I can’t. Actually, I think I am quite brave with confronting uncomfortable parts of myself and dealing with difficult facets of my psyche. It’s just such a vacuum (and I absolutely love vacuums, even mental and theoretical ones). This one just sucks all of my energy that I can’t do anything else for the day.
In this time, where any touch is potentially risky. I am noticing I am increasingly longing for it, like it sometimes physically aches. I wouldn’t say it is something I normally and consistently seek out. I have spent long periods, where I flinched whenever people touched me. I am quite used to being a self-contained creature, but having it as a current social norm is different. I think that’s why I have been thinking about everyone and my relationships more. This morning, I woke up in a heavy state of absolute grief. It was accompanied by the ridiculous sense that I am hurting everyone in my life, and having the urge to write to a few people to express my love and talk about things. It was unusual, the feelings I mean, because they seemed to come from nowhere. The urge to letter-write isn’t that unusual for me and is always a good thing to do.
When I started typing this, I didn’t know where I was heading or what I wanted to express. All I knew was I needed to write it out, carry on thinking about it and articulate it so it didn’t fester. But during the last paragraph, I started to think about a bullshit childhood thinking process that I had until my mid-teens I think. I didn’t discuss it until a few years ago and I can’t remember if I have written about it, but I had this feeling of being disgusting to others. I knew it was irrational at some level. I used to get extremely anxious every time I was touched or went to touch anyone outside my immediate family though. I incessantly was worried that people would get uncomfortable and pull away. It’s an incredibly long bow to draw, but the current connotations of infection and touch is so similar to that feeling I had as a child. I don’t know the subconscious is weird, it might be that and having more time to think. Maybe?