Pop culture tries to sell us that ultra independence is cool and sexy. But the reality is human beings need connection and social support. Quite literally, we need a community to thrive and survive. 

I’ve written graduate papers on the subject. I’ve touted the importance of social connection to my clients when I was providing trauma therapy to clients in Los Angeles. And, I’ve pestered Garrett time and time again to ‘make friends’ and ‘reach out’ to people, because ‘connection is important’. 

Why, then, has it been so damn difficult for me to allow myself the connection and support that I’ve been so readily preaching to others?

Like everything else, the answer is complicated. 

I’m actually a very social person, and before moving to San Diego, I had tons of friends that I could rely on. I miss them dearly. 

Since then, it’s become increasingly isolating. 

For starters, making new friends is hard, especially as an adult with a full time work schedule and a family. 

But, my increasing disconnection from people outside my house goes deeper than that. 

If I’m being honest, I’ve been terrified of ridicule and judgment. 

Most days, I recognize that I’m doing the best I can with a shitty situation, and feel pretty damn good about the choices I’m making. But, on my worst days, self doubt and fear of judgment stop me in my tracks.

We’ve been judged and misunderstood by some of the people closest to us, who just don’t understand (and often, intentionally shield themselves) from the reality of what we’re going through. It’s been a painful experience. 

And, if we’re judged by the people closest to us, what would the larger population think or say if they knew how difficult things really are in our lives sometimes? Would people lean in and support us, or would they turn away because the reality is uncomfortable?

I’ve been afraid people would judge me for staying in a difficult relationship, afraid people would judge me for openly talking about my struggles in said relationship, and perhaps most afraid that people would slap me with the ever-feared ‘bad mom’ label.

I’ve also been afraid that if I connect with others, and speak honestly about the struggles in my life, that they’ll get sick of hearing about it. There’s so much social pressure to ‘be okay’, ‘change things when you’re unhappy’, and to not be a ‘Negative Nancy’, that it has become increasingly difficult to admit that things here aren’t always easy. 

Not that things here are always bad. Our lives are not black or white. We try our best to have fun together, and we legitimately do have some good times, amidst all the struggle. Garrett is still my favorite person to laugh and joke around with, and there’s never a shortage of sarcasm or love in our home. 

But, I have definitely felt the social pressure to over-exaggerate those moments, and minimize the extent of our struggles, to avoid being ostracized or ridiculed. 

Aside from the fear of shame and ridicule, I’ve also stopped myself from connecting with others because I’m afraid they just can’t relate, or won’t understand what we’re going through. 

Trying to explain it to people is just taxing.

Then, come the insecurities. Do I really want to make female friends and invite them into my world if there’s even the slightest chance that my husband might be triggered by them? 

Even admitting that out loud cues the feelings of shame and judgment again. 

After all the work I’ve done on myself, I still struggle with these very primal feelings of insecurity and an instinct to protect my family from outside threats. 

Is that so unusual? I don’t think so, but it’s definitely not sexy or fun to admit, and it flies in the face of another social norm…

 “Don’t be jealous,” everyone says, “Jealousy is bad and makes you look weak and vulnerable.” 

But in reality, isn’t insecurity just a natural instinct to feeling like our primary connections may be in jeopardy? 

This is what I’ve told my clients, when they try to shame themselves for feeling jealous and insecure. “Feel the feelings, it’s okay, no judgment here,” I’ve said to them, as I’ve silently reprimanded myself for the same things. 

Fear and insecurity have no doubt stopped me from connecting with others, but burnout is also a very real factor. 

Up until recently, I was attending graduate school full time, working part-time as a trauma therapist in LA, running my PR business full time, creating and implementing Dominic’s homeschool curriculum, doing therapy, and trying to take care of the day-to-day stuff in our lives. All of that adds up to a whole lot of responsibility, and a very limited amount of resources. 

Where the fuck is the time!?

To my credit, I have tried on a few occasions to make friends and be social. 

I’ll occasionally go to coffee or spend time with Dominic’s friends’ moms. And, a couple years ago I was regularly attending and co-hosting some local meetup groups, for other women who don’t drink. But, after a while those didn’t feel like a good fit either. 

Don’t get me wrong, I met some amazing people in the groups. But, I spent so much of my 20s defining myself as the girl with all the drunken stories; I didn’t want to spend my 30s defining myself as a “girl who doesn’t drink”.

Alcohol isn’t running the show in my life one way or another, and I have a hard time relating to people in the groups who align with the AA philosophy that people with drinking problems were ‘diseased’. I didn’t believe that then, and after all my research, I sure as hell don’t believe that now. 

I just want to be friends with regular people. People who can understand and empathize with what I’m going through, but who are also outside of the trauma. People I can connect with on more than just a surface level, who show up for me and allow me to show up for them. People I can have fun with, laugh with, and be myself with, without hiding out of shame or fear of judgment. 

Some of my favorite memories are of being with family during the holidays, hosting dinner parties at my house, and vacationing with friends and family. I’m no longer content depriving myself of these necessities.

Traveling to Europe reminded me of what I’ve been missing. It felt great to be out in the world again. It was the first time in so long that I felt like myself. 

Putting myself out there is still scary, and I’ve definitely been experiencing some vulnerability hangover since putting our story out there publicly last week. But, I also know that this is exactly what I need to do to get back to being myself. 

I don’t know what comes next for us, or if things will ever improve consistently, but I’m no longer stopping myself from experiencing life and connection, while I wait to have it all figured out. 

For so long I told myself that I would write about my experiences and tell my story to others, “once we’re on the other side of this.” But I realize now that may never come, and I feel more compelled than ever to start sharing and connecting NOW. 

Sometimes “I don’t know” is a perfectly acceptable answer. 

What I do know is that I’m ready to get back into the world, and to allow myself the connection and support that I need. And if the price I have to pay to be myself again, and to connect with others, is a little bit of judgment from people who don’t really matter anyway – well, fuck them.