Self-inflicted Isolation: A Letter To All The Friends I’ve Left On Read
“It goes without saying I’ve never been good at replying to messages.
There’s just something about typing out thoughts rather than speaking them; I guess it feels like small talk, and I despise small talk. I struggle to engage when asked how busy the morning train was but tell me about your messy breakup and I’m eating out of the palm of your hand.
Having to methodically press buttons that make my scruffy responses seem way more final combined with never feeling ready to text back means days, weeks or months go by and that message I’ve left on read has turned from a friendly wave to a one punch knockout for my anxiety.
When Covid first hit social communication lines seemed to swell overnight. There were quiz nights, slack teams, 20 new WhatsApp groups, letters to my gran, family catch ups, friend catch ups, facetiming my cat on a Friday night catch ups – weeks would fly by like a gripping read but I just couldn’t get to grasp with the new plotline.
If my anxiety plays up so does my ability to communicate and I found myself going longer and longer leaving my friends on read.
Once a week I’d get a bolt of energy, reply to everyone and then immediately get overwhelmed and crawl back into my cave. It didn’t seem to matter what the texts said, how concerned people were or how many times they messaged, I still couldn’t shake the fear of replying.
The first few months taught me this: I can miss someone an insane amount and yet physically not be able to message them, something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to explain.
There’s definitely been external factors that haven’t helped along the way. The shift in work/life balance, spending so much time cooped up inside and the lack of things to do have all played their part, but everyone else seems to be leaning on each other for support, so why haven’t I learnt to do the same?
This guilt paired with frustration at how selfish shutting everyone out is has made the world feel distorted. I spend hours wondering how I can be pushing away so many people, friends who had been there for me for years and would always drop anything to help me, yet I can’t bring myself to reply to their messages?
Last week after a few months of hiding from my best friend I was able to go for a drink with her. Anxiety can make going for a drink feel like swimming to the bottom of a 400ft pool; it gets darker and there’s more pressure the closer you get. The determination it takes to not come up with a last-minute excuse can be more exhausting than any physical exercise.
She, of course, normalised everything. We talked about how she had been feeling the same, how everyone in her family had been feeling the same, how no one was sleeping well, how everything took fifty times more energy to do, and how sad we feel that the world is so tilted and impossible to quickly elbow back into place.
Since then I can’t say I’ve turned it around and got better at replying. As I write this I have 14 people I need to message back. What I am trying to do, as cliché as it is, is be kinder to myself, and put it out there that if I don’t have every section of my life in full working order then that’s allowed.
For me a softer approach looks like skincare, eating bad food, buying lots of plants and replying to people when I can. If my skin glows up, great. If I gain some lockdown weight, so be it. If I care more about my plants than anything else, that’s cool. And if I can only reply to people every few days, then that’s the way it needs to be.
So to my friends on read – I guess I’m having to soothe and reinvent myself a lot, and it’s taking a long time. But I’m getting really really close to replying, and thanks for waiting.”
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Thank you so much to Ellie for contributing this piece we’re sure so many of you will relate to! To see more from Ellie or to get in contact you can find her on Instagram at @ellie_riddy!