Isolation
The last existential fount of anxiety that I’ll be exploring is isolation. We brush up against this source of anxiety when we feel misunderstood by those that should understand us the most, or when we are expected to fill interpersonal roles that aren’t a good fit for us. We can experience deep feelings of isolation when our exterior portrayal of ourselves is very discordant from our inner reality. We can also experience intense feelings of isolation when we enter a new phase of life that our current support networks don’t understand or don’t fit well with (terminal illnesses, grief, becoming a parent, divorce, becoming an empty nester ect.). Like other existential sources of anxiety, we tend to reflexively pull away when we contact our alone-ness as though it were a hot stove that hurts to touch, or the edge of an abyss that we might topple into if we don’t stay away. This isn’t a question of having bad social skills or crappy relationships, though those are ways that this angst can be aggravated. It’s a fundamental part of the human experience that all of us will have to wrestle with at some point.
Similar to other sources of existential anxiety, the dilemma is that the anxiety will never completely be conquered. If the dilemma is navigated successfully it will be experienced as a punctuated experience - coming and going at different times of life. If it is not successfully navigated, it can develop into full blown anxiety or crippling loneliness. With the recognition that the void can never be fully filled some relief from the ache can be found in healthy relationships and community participation. We’re social creatures and need community around us to thrive. Our need for “togetherness” is deeply profound. Through my faith lens as a Christian I believe that all humans are made in the image of God who is Triune - three persons in one. This model of interdependence is the basic template that we need to embrace to live most fully. This original creation is reinforced deeply by natural selection as during our cavemen days, lone rangers were promptly eaten by saber tooth tigers or killed off by other humans. In our modern lives we meet this need in our relationships with spouses, friends, faith communities or participation in cultural activities. I deeply value self-reliance, but I’ve been humbled enough times in the failure of my individual strength to know that a healthy community foundation is critical for optimal individual thriving.
Unfortunately our need to assuage our fear of isolation can be taken in less than healthy directions. We can chase the fleeting taste of togetherness in pseudo-connections on social media, pornography, or in shallow relationships in which we are unable to be vulnerable. Our need for community can also be co-opted by abusive relationships, cults, advertising or toxic movements. Our fear of alone-ness can make us easy targets to individuals or systems that offer a sense of “we” in exchange for our loyalty or servitude. Our vulnerability to being used in this capacity being correlated to the the lack of healthy experiences of community or relationship in our life both past and present.
I’d like to toss out some thoughts about how to distinguish between toxic and healthy “we-ness.” I think one hallmark of a healthy community or relationship is that our unique characteristics will be welcome and maybe even celebrated. Not in an “everyone gets a trophy” sense, but through a communal sense of trust that everyone’s life has a purpose and a genius that needs to be discerned and encouraged. I once had a mentor tell me that the “measure of a man is in how he treats someone that he has no use for.” Kindness for folks that don’t seem to fit anywhere may be what they need to flourish and develop latent talents that society deeply needs.
By contrast, If the “we” that you are entering seeks to conform you to a one-size-fits-all mold, especially if the tools for doing this are fear, anger, or shame, then run like hell, you have found a “toxic we” and will suffer damage commensurate with your depth of participation. A good metric for discerning if you have gotten into a toxic sense of “we” is to verbalize to other members of the group a way that you differ from the mainstream thought of that group and then pay attention to what response your receive. Again if it’s characterized by fear, anger or shame, take note and be careful. Beware of leaders or partners that treat people like disposable commodities. Relationship patterns both good or bad usually repeat unless the participants in the relationship do some deep personal work. You may enjoy a “honey-moon” period in a toxic group or relationship where you are made to feel special or different from others, but if it’s truly toxic this period will end, likely with some sort of shaming interaction.
An important principle for assuaging existential terror is to intentionally encounter the terror from time to time on your own terms. In volatile chemical reactions, if you add all the ingredients in large quantities all at once, they’re going to have to shut down the lab to clean up the mess you’ve just made. Existential anxiety can be similarly intense if encountered unexpectedly for the first time. By contrast, If you deliberately encounter your anxiety in smaller doses more regularly, you get the same chemical reaction taking place without the big explosions.
To intentionally encounter your fear of isolation, I prescribe deliberate, periodic, solitude both from other people and from technology. Something like a silent retreat where you get away by yourself for a few days every year and learn what lessons silence has to teach you. Robert Bly, a pagan writer about masculine spirituality and growth develops this idea in his book “Iron John” for men that find themselves prone to whirlwind romances or infatuations:
“What does it mean when a man falls in love with a radiant face across the room? It may mean that he has some soul work to do. His soul is the issue. Instead of pursuing the woman and trying to get her alone, away from her husband, he needs to go alone himself, perhaps to a mountain cabin, for three months, write poetry, canoe down a river, and dream. That would save some women a lot of trouble.”
In short, if we can resist the urge to distract ourselves or hide from our fears, we can grow familiar and maybe even comfortable with isolation. I try to do this a few times a year by going hunting alone. The moments of silence when I’m in a tent alone or observing a sunrise while drinking burnt coffee on some mountain are bitter-sweet and profound in ways that are hard to verbalize. I think it makes me a better man when I give myself that time each year.
As you read over this, do you recognize any ways that you have experienced fear of isolation? What are the healthy and unhealthy ways that you have tried to fill the need in your life for connection with others? If any of this blog post has been helpful to you, feel free to share it to others.
