Have you ever, in the downs of mental illness, felt that you were entirely alone? You have your friends and family just a call or text away, but it just doesn’t tear you away from that feeling. Those on the outside looking in, always say that we are self isolating. That due to the natures of mental illnesses, when things get really bad, we begin to hide ourselves away from those around us. I’m not so sure that this is all too true. I mean my family is right outside my bedroom door, yet it feels like miles in between us. It’s not so much loneliness, as it is a feeling of being beyond help or understanding. We can be surrounded by those we love and care for, yet it feels as if we’ve been shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight. We just stay in that place, treading water, trying not to sink into the depths below. Because for most of us, once we begin to sink, we really don’t feel like trying to get above the surface again. We are, content is not the right word, but I think apathetic is more correct. We feel as if there is this giant Boulder chained to our ankle, that we’ve always dragged around with us. Though now that there is no bottom below us, this weight is there to simply drag us down. Once we stop trying to keep our head above water, it becomes far easier to simply let the weight pull us deeper and deeper. This is why we feel alone. We are just sinking into the darkness, not willing to help ourselves, much less bother someone else to aid us. Even though another’s help is exactly what we need, there is that void between us. Again, we’re in the middle of the ocean, water as far as the eye can see, and our would be helper is at the nearest port, but without a boat. They’re so close to reaching us, yet so far away. this feeling, can be described as self isolating, but it is not us that started this process willingly. Yes we just go with the flow, continuing to sink with little resistance, but we did not drop ourselves into this ocean. We, by a series of uncontrollable events, wound up here, and instead of rejecting it, we embraced it, because that is just the easier path. And when you’re in a low, bad place, it’s usually the easier the better, because even if you wanted to, you have no energy to do anything anyways.

The conscious choice that we make, that is us giving in to the weight pulling us down, is usually something that is so normal, we don’t even register it as the beginning of our free fall. For me, it is the act of closing my bedroom door as soon as I get home. I only leave to eat or use the bathroom, but I don’t let anyone into my room, like my mother or my dog. That simple act of just closing the door, is like finishing the wall around me. It is me letting the weight of my depression have its way. It makes the desicions, not me. I just sit there in my room, trying to find things to pass the time, but it never works for long. Soon thereafter, it’s just me and my thoughts, so just me, all alone. Even though my family is mere steps away, that closed door is what cages me in. I chose to close the door, but the desire to do so was driven by the darkness inside me. And once it gets its way once, it continues to do so, for as long as it wants to torment me. This feeling of being alone is nothing new to the mental health field, but I feel as though it has been wildly misunderstood. Yes, people in the depths of their mental illness tend to want to be alone, this is true. Yet each person’s individual reason for doing so is incredibly different, so just slapping the “self isolation” on it feels like we’ve been robbed of something. We made a single choice to give in to this feeling rather than fight it. We did not conjure this feeling up from the bottom of ourselves. We did not ask for it to weigh so heavily on us. We did not willingly allow ourselves to continue to sink. We made a single choice. Everything else is beyond us at that point in time. People will argue that we should just snap out of it, go for a run, take a shower, eat something, and my personal favorite, get some sun; and suddenly we should feel better. This usually comes from those who have no understanding what it is like to drag the weight with us everywhere, every day. It is exhausting doing normal everyday things, and eventually that exhaustion catches up, and demands its due. We are so tired by this point, that even the slightest hint of rest will make us give it the steering wheel but for a moment. But once it takes control, it does not relent it so easily. This choice we make, it not really even a choice at this point. We are running on empty, tired, and just worn out. So much so that it really seems like there is only one option here. To let yourself sink, stop fighting so vigorously. Get the rest that you so imminently need. But as always, this too comes at a cost. This rest you get, is just rebranded isolation. Yet we are so quick to latch onto the idea of a moment without all the suffering, that it just eventually insulates the entirety of our minds. Suddenly, we believe that the only way we can have internal peace, is by removing any variables. Everyone and everything that could possible disrupt our “rest” is shut out. We have no choice. Because the slight possibility that they might make it worse is far more important that the chance that they could help us.

So I agree that people who are going through a low period in their mental illness do tend to prefer to be alone. But I draw the line at we choose this ourselves. We don’t self isolate because we want to. We do it because when faced with the alternative, we really only ever had one option.