from "Year 16," a film by Delaney McCallum
It's been proven that potentially the worst punishment for any human is extreme isolation. Isolation quite literally "warps the mind," and our physical chemistry can unravel if we are in situations of prolonged aloneness. According to a BBC article, "chronically lonely people have higher blood pressure, are more vulnerable to infection, and are also more likely to develop Alzheimer's disease and dementia." In addition, loneliness "interferes with a whole range of everyday functioning, such as sleep patterns, attention and logical and verbal reasoning." Social isolation also "unleashes an extreme immune response – a cascade of stress hormones and inflammation."
To be clear, this is not about the time-out that everyone needs periodically, the extra five minutes alone in the bathroom, the Sunday spent alone with Netflix, or even a general tendency to prefer introversion. No, I'm talking about a different kind of loneliness - a profound sense of being entirely disconnected from not only other people, but also from yourself. It's how I imagine it would feel to be an astronaut disconnected from the space station, sent hurling through black nothing-ness with no will, and no reason, to fight.
Disordered thoughts, which are a symptom of many major mental illnesses (depression, anxiety, eating disorders, bipolar disorders, to name a few) are like a silent killer. Our medical system tends to attack the physical symptoms of your ailment - weight loss/gain, poor metabolism, sleep problems, hair loss, poor circulation, brittle bones - with a vengeance. In fact, I think what I'm going to call "the war on drugs" is a shared experience of many people who have battled mental illness. A slew of pills thrown your way (some of which may work wonders - disclaimer: I am not here to hate on pharmaceutical treatments. Just to say that they themselves are not an end-all-be-all cure), when really your soul is trying desperately to find itself again, to gulp down any sign of familiarity with every water glass-head back-pill in-swallow.
You end up in this weird limbo, this stretching and expanding and then snapping back, curling up inside of yourself because you can't remember your worth. As my beautiful baby sister articulates in her experimental film "Year 16," your thoughts and dreams and fears can run rampant, but then you "can never remember how it ends." Stuck. Alone. Delaney's film brings tears to my eyes every *single* time I watch it (and I've watched it a lot..) because it is so raw in its simple yet profound articulation of the truth of this experience. Stuck inside the cage of your own mind, you wonder if you are just weaker than everyone, if maybe happiness isn't meant for you, if this is what life is just like.
I would highly recommend giving this vid a watch - it will make you feel feelings you didn't know you had. If not for that reason, because it also won Best Original Score at the All-American High School film fest (the instrumental score composed and performed by, you guessed it, Delaney McCallum. Oh, and also the vid helped snag my sis the title of a 2017 Young Arts Cinematic Finalist. Surround yourself with people who create honest beauty - I am a lucky one to call this artist my family.
Watch this baby in full-screen, volume all the way up, here.
In relation to eating disorders in particular, my friend-soulmate Riya is able to articulate the push and pull of social isolation extremely well. In an article for The Mighty, Riya wrote, "An eating disorder fills in for the interpersonal relationships a person lacks, but seriously needs, in their life." Riya told me that she thought people were out to get her when they would mention they were worried about her/her weight, so she would choose to avoid people altogether. And therein is the toxic cycle - we are in so much pain, steeped in so much self-loathing, and craving human connection. Yet our starving brain always gets the last word - and that is that people are out to get you, to take away this piece of you that is so "special." (Spoiler alert: it's not special. *understatement of the year*)
Here are some more very insightful words from my friend and fellow recovery warrior:
Those suffering from anorexia are usually often secretive and fixed to their rigid routines. It brought me an immense amount of stress and anxiety to even think about breaking my daily pattern. I would tell friends I would meet them at a party, only to cancel sometimes five minutes before, even though in my mind my decision to not go had been made long before. I was attached to my standard meals at my desk, where I would feel most productive. I would not be able to eat without Netflix open, playing Gilmore Girls in the background, giving the illusion of familiar friends in the room with me. Then I’d take a bite, and type my essay. It was an exasperating cycle of “I don’t want to be here. But I need to be here. I’m getting stuff done. I want to be here,” and “Why do I want people? When I’m with people I don’t want to be with them. When I’m alone, I want to be around people.” I just could not win. I could not make myself happy. I wasn’t allowed to be happy.
Read the rest of Riya's article here!
I recently came across a poem I wrote circa 2011 which I think encapsulates the feeling of loss that can come with isolation. My heart aches for the girl who penned these lines - a Madeline who felt robbed of her sense of excitement, her perpetual wonder, her adoration for every little thing on God's earth. This girl was left in bewilderment, wondering how she had blinked and suddenly lost herself - it's not a conscious decision, you don't just decide you hate yourself and then actively change your behavior. And to be quite honest, I still don't have the answers for how it happens and I doubt I ever will. All I know is that this sense of loss of an entire chunk of my life has haunted me for a very long time. I will never get those years back, those wandering, empty, lonely years.
a poem by me, c. 2011
I used to stand on the mountain
I used to look down at the sea.
I used to gaze at the islands,
the cozy little keys.
I used to stand on the rooftops,
hear the cars and the dogs
struggling to see the skyline
through the haze and the smog.
I used to float on the lake
I used to climb in the trees
I didn't listen to the questions,
they didn't apply to me.
Days would go by
and the rooster would crow
I used to capture the fireflies
and watch as they would glow.
Time passes and with it brings change,
oozing through the cracks in the door
and before you know it the snowman is gone
the chalk's not on the sidewalk anymore.
I used to light all the candles,
I used to lay in the grass,
I used to name the color of the sky
and count all the clouds as they passed.
I used to pick flowers for Mama
just because they were there and so was she
I used to laugh at my teachers' jokes
and have my dolls over for tea.
I used to take things for granted
I never thought that I might forget
about the secret club in the bushes
or the bird that I had as a pet.
I used to stand on the cliff,
not knowing that eventually I'd fall
I used to keep all the bottle caps;
Now I've lost them all.
I used to wonder what I'd look like
after the next school year passed
I would never buy my ice cream first
just to make it last.
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Do you think you may need to speak to a professional, but are struggling to find the time and the right person? Consider online therapy. Please see https://www.betterhelp.com/ for more information <3
If this post resonated with you, or touched you in any way, please consider donating to my Project Heal campaign for National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Help me fund a treatment grant for someone in need - a floating astronaut, an empty shell, a lonely, wide-eyed young girl who lost her youth to her demons. Any donation would be so much appreciated <3
Find my fundraising team here: https://www.classy.org/fundraiser/913265
xx mm
