Protecting Your Peace or Your Prison?

Written By Quincy Yeoman

“It’s chill” -A perfect non-answer when someone you love expresses concern.

The maddening thing about depression is when I don’t recognize I was depressed until the end of it. That feeling of coming up for air and realizing that I was living underground because I had absolutely nothing to give to anyone. Every single drop of energy was being funneled back into myself via a slow dripping sink where the water was made up of a bare minimum routine and taxing but necessary self-investigation. 

That was all I had the capacity for, which as my therapist said, is a lot. The rare occasions when I do decide to see someone, they can see my unhideable weariness and they take a shot at soothing which I quickly block. 

Taking everything in stride has always been my best performance. The denial… What is that? As if acknowledging the undercurrent of sadness that’s gnawing at my spirit will make it worse. 

Does it come from a lifetime of feeling me and my emotions are too much? Or from a neglect that forced me into healing in isolation? Can I fully heal under the circumstances of forced isolation? Or does healing like so many other things, take a village. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that it does. 

CONCEPT:
The more emotional someone is the more self-involved they become. 

When I was introduced to this concept, I felt a resistance. My ego chose to deny it because: pride. There was no way that my reason for being sad or mad or fearful was due to me retreating into my head. Surely this emotional turmoil was caused by this miscommunication or that unmet expectation or the other person. 

Sidebar: Vagueness is the pandemic of communication

Self-involved has become synonymous with self-care, strong “boundaries”, being “evolved” or “healed”. Giving a convenient out when it comes to being accountable to myself and to the people I care about.

This became clear for me during a fallout with a friend. After months of attempting to see and hang out with this bestie I sent a lengthy and vulnerable text. In a long text, which I never regret, I aired out my concerns for our friendship being downgraded and if they were actually ok. The text concluded with an expression of love, letting them know the ball was in their court and that my door would always be open. And most importantly a clear directive that there was no pressure to respond. 

The response I received to this text approx 3 weeks later was scathing. Filled to the brim with vitriol. A proactive attempt to twist my words. And therapy language weaponized that made me feel like a selfish piece of shit. 

NOTE: Common opinion, the use of therapy-speak to overindex every feeling, problem and each inconvenience is sending the collective into a perilous predicament of being able to convey feelings while not feeling the actual feelings. 

In our feelings but not feeling our feelings is making connection more difficult than ever. 

I did make the choice to step out of this friend's life after this. Not merely because of the text but because it was another incident in a long pattern of her availability to be there for me based on her convenience. Once I took a step back from my hurt feelings, I am able to empathize that I’d only get a response like that from a person who was in a hurt place. You don’t get an “I don’t owe anyone anything” from people who are receiving what they need.

When you’re receiving what you need the ability to give overflows. 

And she was being honest about that. And it doesn’t make it fair to take it out on someone you claim has nothing to do with it. If you’re going to be in your feelings, be honest about that, there’s no need to flip it to bring someone else down to your level. 

I will add that me and this particular friend had been in a situation(s) before where neither of us could give to the other what they needed. Walking parallel in our own pain and self-destruction created an uncrossable gorge. When I’d gone back to the friendship after our last falling out, I assumed we would work through anything so to my dismay when this came up and we were unable to, I had to sit with the reality of this repeating again and again. 

A reality I can no longer accept. I’ve reckoned with and now reconciled my relationship expectations which include what I want and what I bring. Within these realizations, I’ve lost relationships that I expected to last a lifetime. 

The part I cannot take back is that for my lifetime up until recently, I prioritized not being alone vs being seen. Not being alone put me firmly in the roles I played for others. As I got deeper into those roles and the feelings of what it meant to be, I found myself sequestered into a prison of my own making. 

I was resentful of who I was for a person and the fact that who I was for them didn’t feel like myself. I was lonely in the feeling that when I tried to step out of that role and be seen, I was not looked at, I was not heard. I’d upheld an emotional architecture of a relationship that served the person I’d chosen to be in relation with. 

And then I was left swallowing the hard pill that when I choose someone, they don’t necessarily choose me. And an even harder pill, sometimes the way someone chooses me doesn’t result in me feeling chosen. I’m learning in real time how to trust this feeling and say it when I feel it.

When I began to speak on the dynamics that I am partially responsible for, people tend to lose their shit. Suddenly it was me who was abandoning people by bringing up my feelings. I’d built a foundation so strong on my own back that when I stepped from under it, it crumbled. 

My inability to speak on these feelings leaves me feeling isolated and inadvertently lets people know that those feelings don’t exist which is not true. 

As I backed away from these connections I disappeared into myself. A search continues for safety, a place to discover what makes me feel cared for/seen, a classroom to learn who I was and why so much of my identity was based on who I was to others. In this emotionally off grid moment, I failed the people who saw me in my multitudes. I got so deep in my own shit that I neglected the other people I cared about who deserved the truth. I was fumbling my opportunity to be seen. I was fumbling my chance to be cared for.

I spent months in a mindset of individualism and convinced my mind that to be alone was to be safe.

I was wrong for this. And I will probably do it again.

The isolation was necessary and felt good for a bit. There is a recalibration that happened in those months that did lead to many of the answers I was seeking. The most unexpected answer was that connection is a top priority for me and that even if my way of going about it needs improving, I shouldn’t let this part of myself languish in the dark. 

In the digital age isolation is what permits the acceptance of unrest, distrust and disempowerment. Isolation is and always has been a tool for oppression. 

Reflecting back on the conversation with my friend, her inability to give was based on the necessity to grind for capitalism and then bolstered by therapy speak which helped her conclude that she was doing this by herself. That connection was secondary when the going got rough. Blinding her to an option that maybe connection could relieve the pressure, even if it was temporary. I don’t blame her for that, cause we’ve all been there. 

Dare I say that we are collectively living in this moment for better or worse and to an extent, against our will. And most definitely, against our nature. 

People are calling out for third spaces while simultaneously being afraid to leave the house. Phone calls are deemed intrusive while we can see what people are “doing” all hours of a day. The inability to connect is a responsibility we remove from ourselves and put on our diagnosis, our need to get the bag, or to reschedule to a later date when we won’t have problems and be rich in both time and emotional expansiveness.

In actuality, the ability to connect doesn’t arrive at one moment when you’re in your best state. It’s forged through the practice of trying even when you don’t want to. 

There are moments I’m embarrassed by the desire to connect. More than a desire, my need for it really. I feel cringe that my muse is the way I exist in relationship to other people. I feel a shame for wanting to be seen but not always knowing how or picking people who show me repeatedly that they lack the capacity to meet me.  

It’s ok to crawl back to people you disappeared from. The reals will welcome you back even if they require an entrance fee of personal accountability. 

Self-disclosure is a pillar of connection with others and yourself. Sometimes it’s the gaze of another person that forces the feeling you're avoiding. Another person may be the sounding board that moves you to peace. Yes, being open with others can (and should) result in owing them openness at a later date. 

Reciprocity is a tenet of human existence. It’s how we build. And even in this era where the idea of that feels uniquely vulnerable and terrifying if we let this fall the wayside we stop growing. We find ourselves in a solitary dwelling of resentment, pain and disconnection that feels impossible to get out of. 

By neglecting the practice of messy interactions to protect our own image we lose sight of what we truly look like. When we avoid others we lose track of our own feelings in the vortex of rumination. Disappearing on the people we love is at times the first step of disappearing on ourselves. 

After my stint in emotional isolation, I can now say that I will always take the risk of connecting with others. The risk is always worth the squeeze. The loss is a lesson earned. The gain is worth the effort. I remind myself that I have to be wrong to be right. And that when it’s good it’s so good. 

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SOURCES

Quincy Yeoman https://www.quincyyeoman.com
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