Isolation as a Coping Mechanism: An Ongoing Battle

Lately, I’ve been confronting the way isolation has quietly rooted itself as my go-to coping mechanism. It’s not a new discovery—more like an old, familiar pattern that’s resurfaced in light of recent events. Scrolling through social media, I noticed everyone’s “October dumps,” and it hit me that I’ve been missing in action. My WhatsApp inbox is overflowing with unread messages, and I haven’t seen my family or friends in three weeks.

“How did I end up here again?” I asked myself. I’d promised myself just a month ago—and countless times before—that I wouldn’t slip into this place. After some honest introspection, it dawned on me that this latest retreat began right after my community service placement was announced. It’s a familiar rhythm; I withdraw whenever a major stressor hits. My therapist and I traced this pattern back to my second year of internship. Around that time, a close friend outed me to my family and friends, and the support system I’d relied on for years crumbled overnight. Those I’d counted on—the people who’d been my anchors—either attacked, judged, or withdrew from me. I felt stranded, hiding in my room, avoiding campus, ignoring the phone. Each ring felt like a confrontation with a truth I wasn’t ready to share.

In isolation, I felt safe. Alone, I couldn’t be hurt. In my mind, I found solace. And though I try to be socially present, this coping habit has stayed with me. On the surface, I might seem extroverted or even cheerful. But deep down, I’m still holding onto that survival instinct to retreat.

This habit has cost me relationships. There are family members and friends I haven’t spoken to in years—not out of malice, but out of a deeply ingrained fear of rejection. The longer I go without reaching out, the more guilt piles on, making it harder to reconnect. I still find myself avoiding messages and phone calls, a bad habit that only leads to a mountain of unread messages and a cycle of social procrastination.

Living in my mind has its upsides; a rich inner world nurtures creativity, intuition, and empathy. But it’s also a double-edged sword. When introspection turns into rumination, when days of isolation blur together, it becomes a breeding ground for anxiety and depression. And that isolation can be incredibly damaging to my mental health.

For years, I tried to manage my anxiety by forcing myself to “live in the moment.” But now, I’m learning to embrace my introspective nature. There’s value in being reflective and imaginative; it fuels my empathy and insight into emotions that aren’t always visible on the surface. Writing and creative expression are becoming outlets for me to process abstract thoughts and big-picture questions. But even so, staying grounded in day-to-day reality is still a challenge.

The external world often feels overstimulating and daunting. I find myself drifting from my surroundings, losing touch with routines. I struggle with to find a sense of “object permanence” when it comes to my relationships—I sometimes forget I exist in relation to others until I consciously remind myself. Reconnecting with people, and maintaining those connections, is an ongoing journey.

Have you ever found yourself retreating inward when life gets overwhelming? I’d love to hear how you cope and reconnect—or any advice you might have for finding balance. Let’s keep this conversation going in the comments!