The Dazzle #18

Connection is the opposite of addiction

When I found myself in rehab almost 7 years ago, they taught us that a relapse tended to start long before you found yourself picking up a drink. Rare was the person who simply fell off the wagon out of the blue - if they were really honest with themselves, the slide towards a slip had probably started much earlier, when they began dropping their meetings, or stopped calling their sponsor.

To prevent this from happening, we were asked to make a list of things that might signal ‘relapse drift’: not working a sobriety programme; planning to meet up with friends who were hard drinkers; fantasising about going on a binge without fessing up to anyone; that kind of thing. I mention this not because I’m about to tell you I’ve fallen off the wagon, but because over the years, I’ve adapted this exercise for my mental health generally. ‘Depression Drift’ is a list of all the things I start doing as I slip into a dark place, or an episode of OCD: doom scrolling; obsessively checking social media; finding excuses not to get out of bed; comparing myself to others, and so on and so forth. I keep this list in my iPhone Notes app and I refer to it from time to time to remind myself of what not to do. And so it was that the other day, I realised I was slipping in to a habit that is so bad for my mental health, I need to call it out here: isolating myself, from friends and family.

Isolation is the biggest sign that I am heading somewhere dark. When I stop answering the phone, start cancelling plans, and spend hours of the day trying to work out excuses to get out of things, then I know I need to give myself a kick up the behind. No, no, a loving hug. Yes, that’s it. When I realise I am isolating, I immediately have to ask myself what is going on: am I overwhelmed? Have I been dismissing myself? Have I been letting someone else dismiss me? All mental health issues thrive by isolating you, by telling you that you’re a freak and nobody is going to understand what you’re going through. This isn’t true, but when you’re alone in your own head, you are more inclined to believe the lies.

I think it’s important to have alone time, but there’s a difference between alone time and isolation. As an alcoholic with a history of depression, OCD and eating disorders, I cannot afford to cut myself off for longer than a couple of days. As a sober friend once said: one or two days of moping at home alone is normal, three is alcoholism. She’s right!

I’m writing this to connect with you, in case any of this happens to resonate. Because connection is the opposite of addiction. It really is. It’s also the opposite of depression, and a host of other mental health issues. For me, connection doesn’t have to mean calling someone up, or forcing myself out to social engagements. It could simply be going outside for a walk, or acknowledging that I am feeling a bit low. It’s taking small steps to prevent myself from falling deeper.

Here’s some other things I’ve been doing to connect:

- taking my daughter to her first Arsenal game, and singing my heart out on the terraces, much to her embarrassment. It’s one way to let it all out!

- getting back to my local Crossfit gym, where the instructors have kindly been adapting the workouts for my shin.

- reading Salman Rushdie’s new book Knife, in which he writes powerfully about surviving an attempted murder in 2022.

- chatting to the All is Well My Darling community in our monthly Zoom book club. We just read The How by Yrsa Daley Ward, and are now delving into What Am I Missing? by Emma Reed Turrell. We’ll get together on May 15 (for security reasons, you need to have a paid subscription to get the link and take part).

And finally, here are some connections I’m looking forward to in the next fortnight, that you can come along to: I’m doing the Guernsey Literary Festival this weekend, and the Fowey Festival of Arts the weekend after.

See you in two weeks,

Bryony x