Īnsula
(Melankoli II by Edvard Munch from Wikimedia commons)
The sluggish process of continental drift – the movement of the continents relative to one another – is one which might be hard to notice. It happens at geological timescales after all and the forces which cause it are not entirely clear. Plus the amount of force that is required to move millions of kilometers of earth at a time is unfathomable, to the point where it's almost hard to believe it's actually real. However these forces have undeniably shaped our world and will continue to do so whether we understand them or not.
As much as no man is an island entire of itself, as much as we are all a piece of the continent, a part of the main, the forces which insulate us are very real and at times can feel unstoppably powerful. These forces are psychological and social, so we may feel some solace over the idea we can control them. But learning to tame the currents of magma and rock which shape us is... well, you're trying to tame nature itself.
Over the past few months I've grown so much. I believe I am a better person compared to who I was just one or two years ago. The change has been significant and necessary. Yet due to the circumstances of my life I have noticed I am slowly drifting apart from everyone, not entirely by choice but not entirely by accident either. And it's scary. It's easy to think that if you're growing emotionally you'll become better at forming and maintaining connections but that is evidently not the case.
For most of my life I've felt more or less alone. I've never had a true home, a place where I belonged. There were little pockets of time over the last year when I noticed that changing. I saw myself building a community, building trust, building love and a sense of belonging. But that eventually had to end.
I did not yet understand myself well enough to properly handle all of these new experiences. With each new discovery about myself – each stroke added to the map of the island of me – I noticed more faults which get in the way of my attempts to build bridges. Each connection collapsed as their foundations were unable to withstand the uncaring tectonic forces gradually sliding away. I do not possess the necessary skills to properly and healthily bond.
I don't mean to seek pity. I am sure this is not a unique experience as I believe the world we live in promotes this kind of situation. Bigotry, capital, vying for dominance... but also more personal matters: rejection, neglect, a lack of compassion or companionship. I am aware many have survived much worse, so in the end I know I will be okay. It is not the end of the world to be alone.
And at the same time I think it can be good to verbalize these things, not just to examine them more closely but to let others know that even if they're isolated they're not alone in their experience and not all is lost. You may not be connected to anyone but you still matter. Your anguish diminishes me, because I am involved in humanity. Whether we know each other or not, whether we ever cross paths or not, you are important to me.
And sometimes you need to acknowledge you're in pain and actually cry about it before you're able to get back up. Feel your emotions, take in the stuffy briny air, the uncomfortable sand on your feet, the ache in your limbs from exploring the island and carrying building materials around all day, the way your jaw is clenched and the tears are flowing. Then get up and keep trying because God damn it this is no way to live. Impossible as it might seem you can defy these forces and make things better. Humans have tamed nature in so many ways before. We have been able to achieve the impossible because our resilience and grit is unyielding. Don't stop trying.