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A Lone Wolf is a Dead Wolf


As our conversations and interactions become more and more digital, human beings are beginning to lose connection with the people that they need most. We flourish as pack animals. We thrive when amongst groups with comparable likes and beliefs to our own. We need contact, shared experiences, and palpable connectivity. We all eventually crave a human touch, eye contact with a loved one, or shared moments with friends. These actions facilitate the release of feel-good neurotransmitters that help us forge strong connections and learn trust.


If you’re familiar with depression, then you’re probably aware of one large, nagging symptom that comes along with it; loneliness. People with depression tend to avoid human interaction like a small child avoids vegetables. At the same time, they ache for it. This often creates an internal conflict that leads to, or perpetuates, helplessness. When you’re depressed, you really want to be able to talk to someone, but shame, embarrassment, and fear handcuff you to a solitary existence. As your isolation becomes more frequent and normalized, you start to lose your social abilities, while interactions become challenging and sometimes fear-inducing.


Even though depression, and soon, loneliness, eventually consumed most facets of my life, I still pined for human interaction. I wanted to go out, be social, call people, or see them face to face. I wanted to experience life with friends and get away from my depressive thoughts. But, as my anxiety foreshadowed all potential social situations, I stopped short of committing to any social interfaces. Not only was I worried that I would be asked questions about my mental well-being that I didn’t want to answer, but I felt like if I spent time with anybody, I’d be a let-down. I didn’t want my rare social outings to become a conversation about how sad my life was at the time. If I did leave my house, my conversations were awkward as fuck. I’d analyze myself throughout the entire conversation and wouldn't retain anything that was said. I couldn't formulate rational sentences, I had to write things down, or I had to ask people to repeat themselves over and over. I felt like everybody was constantly judging me, even though it was just me judging myself. I was so deep in my own head that I had nothing to add to meetings, discussions or social gatherings. I turned down invites to any situation that made me uncomfortable. Or, I’d show up, say hi, and make some excuse as to why I had to leave early. I was numb and my brain was static. So, instead of pushing past my discomfort, I digressed into my turtle shell and back into my pathetic hole of self-inflicted loneliness.


While I sat on my couch and watched life slip by, my social interactions became almost completely online. Social media became my coffee shop, my hangout, my Saturday night. To make things worse, it was actually easier for me to transpose my thoughts into text than it was to verbalize them into speech, so I accepted it as my new norm. Soon, I began to search out acceptance and praise in the form of likes and comments on my posts and pictures. I scrolled and swiped those apps from the moment I woke up, while I was at work, as soon as I got home from somewhere that didn’t have WiFi or cell service, and I held that soul-draining black rectangle until the moment I shut off the lights to go to bed. That was my only connection to the human world. Well, the only one that I was willing to put the effort into, anyway. As my social media use rapidly increased, I could see changes in my mood dependent on whether or not I interacted with people on social media on any given day. There’s no doubt, it was a drug and a shitty replacement to real life for me.


At the height of my depression, having someone close that I could talk to and be with was what I yearned for most. Being alone day after day with no one but my own negative thoughts was painful. I felt like I was living in a tiny, run-down cabin in the middle of Siberia, even though most of my close family members lived no more than a couple of blocks away from me, while the rest were always a phone call away. Left to its own devices, my brain could think of a thousand reasons to not tell my family about what was eating away at me. I felt like a burden because I believed that everyone around me had their own lives to live. Who would want to listen to my depressing bullshit? I felt weak because no matter what angle I looked at my situation, I couldn’t find any shred of a solution. I felt ashamed because I bought into the preconception that I was “crazy” and “broken.” I thought that I had lost control of my own mind and that everyone would look at me as a lesser being because I couldn’t manage my emotions and thoughts. I felt lost because I had no idea where to turn. In my brain, I was a true outcast. I was the lone wolf that I always saw myself as. But instead of being powerful and independent, I was helpless and too afraid to leave my den. I was confused, useless, and fraudulent. I lacked the mental capability to effectively verbalize what was going on inside of my head and how little control I felt I had. So, even though I wanted my family and friends close to me, I fervently pushed them away. I didn’t know at the time that this action was generating power for my depression. The lone wolf finally understood the pain of mental solitude, and it was fucking terrible. Lonely and defeated, I wandered the snow-covered mountainsides through an endless winter, trying to find a pack that I belonged to. All the while, my pack was searching for me.


I knew that some of my family could see the changes in me. I think that maybe they were concerned but didn’t want to pry. That, and they knew that I’d shut them out at every turn because I just didn’t talk about that shit, ever. Every so often, I’d be asked, “are you okay?” And of course, I’d put on a brave face and ensure them that I was just tired, or I’d reluctantly lie, say yes, and change the subject as soon as possible. I stopped engaging in conversations and I no longer showed up to family functions. I ignored phone calls or cut them short whenever possible. Activities with friends were cancelled again and again. I wanted to go out and to have fun, but at the time I felt incapable. I envisioned myself showing up to a dinner or get-together and just dragging everyone down, so I stayed home. There were no smiles or jokes, unless of course I was backed into a corner. If I was confronted and asked about how I was feeling, I simply put on another temporary mask and assured that person that everything was fine. I’d force some jokes or a happy attitude and exuded a false sense of reassurance, while deep down I was seriously struggling. Nobody wants to be the cause of worry to the people they love. I didn’t want my family members to lose sleep or have their lives interrupted to help with my own problems. But of course, that’s what family is. They take you at your best, but more importantly, they accept you when you’re at your worst.


I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show enough gratitude to my family and friends for helping me during my struggles. A lot of them didn’t even know that I was struggling. But, the thousands of tiny moments when they helped me momentarily forget about my troubles and to see the widespread beauty and humor in life, is a debt that I hope to pay back to each of them, one day. These moments came in many forms. Memories of old times, having the opportunity to teach my nephews new things, my dad’s terrible jokes, and the ensuing ridicule at his expense for telling such a lame joke. All of these things, and so many more, showed me that the bond between family and friends is something to cherish and something that’s important to cultivate and sustain. In the past, my selfishness took this for granted. It was then that I realized that one wolf cannot make a pack.


Every wolf needs its counterparts in order to thrive. Each pack member comes together to make a prosperous family. Lone wolves lack protection and warmth from weather and threats. Eventually, they crack under stress and fall to the ground in a heap. Lone people suffer the same fate. If you want to stand tall once again, I implore you to forge new connections. Stretch those weary paws, grab on to the people around you and watch yourself grow.


Trying to battle anxiety and depression alone is like trying to sit in a chair with three legs. It’s possible, but often, you’re a light breeze away from toppling to the ground. You sit precariously and uncomfortable, waiting for that uneasy feeling of losing grip and falling. We need that support from the fourth leg to feel safe and stable.


No matter how independent or self-reliant I felt, or better yet, portrayed myself to be before I suffered from anxiety and depression, that all went out the window after my first major panic attack in Thailand (which you can read about here). I knew then, that I wasn’t as strong as I always thought I was, and that the infinite number of variables that life can throw at you are truly the gatekeeper in what we foolishly call our own lives. That doesn’t mean that I can’t be strong. It just means that the universe, or whatever you want to call it, decided to finally call me on my bullshit. I was being told that there will be no more pretending, no more faking my way through life and no more cheating the game. It was at this point that I knew I couldn’t live as a lone wolf. I needed my wolf pack to help me flourish once again.


Along with support from caring individuals, facing my fears was paramount to becoming a stronger person. I talk about facing fears a lot, and that’s because it’s a major game changer for me. It’s probably the most difficult thing that you’ll undertake if you suffer from depression and anxiety. Your brain will concoct any possible excuse to keep you in your grave of desperation and fear. And if you stay there long enough, your fears will multiply in relation to the depletion of your confidence. You’ll be starting at square one and you’ll be facing your fears as that scared child that cowers deep within you. It’s not a challenge for the unprepared. It will take strategy and forethought to out-maneuver your opponent, and you’ll feel serious pain as you’re scarred and bruised. But, with the proper support and education, you’ll prosper once more and create a life that is truly worth living.


Books that I recommend on this subject:


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