“Through all this ordeal his root horror had been isolation, and there are no words to express the abyss between isolation and having one ally.” -G.K. Chesterton
When loneliness persists, either in its intensity or in its duration, it eventually reaches the chronic and desolate place of isolation. Often this threshold is initially crossed unknowingly. But when I look back at these times in my own life, I can admit that there was a moment when I started to knowingly go along with the predicament. I willingly colluded with the unpleasantness and became an accomplice to my stasis of isolation. This was under the false belief that if I stay this way — remain lonely — I would no longer feel it or notice it. Sadly, the seductive softening that slowly arrives through perpetual loneliness does not mean it is dissolving. It continues on in a dormant way, which is the true dilemma and prison of isolating; and why it can be so difficult to escape.
“Isolate” has a different etymology compared to some of these other words we are exploring. The Latin parent of the word is the same as the word “island”. Even more accurately it comes from the Latin term for “made into an island”. This image captures the disconnected and claustrophobic feeling of isolation — of being surrounded with no way out. As aloneness erodes into loneliness, and loneliness erodes into isolation, the water comes up all around you. Worse still, this definition reveals that it is something made along the way. Its as if one walked out on to a peninsula knowing that high tide was on its way, and in a short time there would be no path back. And then from there, as time goes on, one gets accustomed to their island living, forgetting what it is like to have neighbors or to be in community.
Considering all of this, the primary metric that I have learned to use as a means of examining whether I am neglecting my loneliness is noticing how deep and long that lonely feeling continues when I am in the company of others. If the sense of loneliness I have when I am by myself is unchanged when I am with friends or family chances are I have landed on the island of Isolation. Even more telling, if I cannot enjoy the time I spend with myself or the time I am spending with others I am assuredly lost in isolation and will ultimately need help to get out.
That is the other realization I have come to make about what makes isolation different. When we were reflecting on loneliness we may have been sad, may have been disturbed or bothered, but we weren’t completely powerless yet. We still had that choice — the choice to stay with it and go deeper and find a better way to get along with ourself or the choice to do something about it and seek out a friend or company and nourish that hungry place inside us. The choice becomes forfeit to me when I reach that isolated state, and I must turn outward for help. Using our analogy again, its as if I have no boat to leave the island that I have marooned myself on — all I’m left with is sending an SOS or building a fire to signal for help. The good news is: help will come. I assure you.
I know this because it is precisely how it happened for me. Years back I had become so familiar with isolation that I couldn’t even access how lonely I was, or how sad I felt. Nor could I do anything to change it. And then one day I met people, people I didn’t know, who arrived and lifted me out of that fog. The first shock of leaving isolation is confronting the buried loneliness it tried to hide. But once felt the choice mentioned early slowly comes back, the belonging to community returns, and then finally the sense of Self is felt again. That last feeling we will dive into more next month.
Today recognize if you are on that island or not, or if you ever have been. If you haven’t, be proud of yourself for being a good shepherd to the lonely parts within you. If you have, be honest with the fact that those sands have been felt by others who were found and that you can be found too. Today you simply have to ask to leave, have to want to leave, and then be brave on the return journey. Today you pause and take a deep breath. That breath will tell you how much and what type of help you will need, and will give you the strength to seek it. I hope that you seek it, and I hope that as you find shelter you find yourself as well.