On Being a Good Mammal, and the Ensuing Isolation

Wherein jef, at the very end, takes a faltering step towards living unsafely again.

So there's this thing that's been on my mind. I'm going to tell you about it, even though it's none of your business, ok? I was first able to put it into words in an IM session with a buddy of mine:
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(01:41:51 PM) derthnada: i often think that the human experience is a slow spiral towards self-imposed isolation resulting from our innate reaction to unpleasant stimuli
(01:42:14 PM) derthnada: it is a compilation of fears
(01:43:15 PM) derthnada: the very reaction that, in youth, teaches us how to survive in a world full of dangers also contributes to our spiritual death by shadowing every decision with past experiences where at least one of the possible outcomes has hurt us before
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See, when it comes to learning to survive, we are one-trick ponies. It goes like this: we touch a hot stove, and we learn that it hurts. A switch has turned on in us at a very fundamental level, saying "don't touch that stove when it's on." But we don't stop there. We abstract it: "Hot stoves, in general, are painful."

This very simple pattern is probably the most primal, instinctive, and (frankly) useful strategy for self-preservation that we have. It trumps higher-level "head" learning, simply because these life lessons reside (or at least start) in a very animal, emotional place. Their only mechanism is fear, and fear is powerful.

Now, these little fears build up over time, like sediment. And in so doing, they create a remarkable emergent pattern that helps us to navigate the dangers of life by keeping us from constantly walking into the clutches of known hazards. The more of these fears we've developed, the more likely we are to stay safe. We'll recognize more things that we'll "know better" than to do or say, and more activities to shy away from because they remind us of other dangerous activities...and so on.

It's not just kinesthetic, either. You ever hear someone say that they'll never fall in love again? I used to think that was total whiny bullshit. But now I can practically hear it...BAM!...a new fear switch being thrown as a result of that person's rejection or pain. Drama and hyberbole aside, they now know for certain--for themselves--that love can produce pain. The remarkable thing is that they learned this lesson through exactly the same mechanism that taught them not to touch the hot stove when they were 2 years old.

Stoves. Passion. One-trick ponies.

Now, there are other nuances to this process, I know, like the impact of intensity, reinforcement, rational overriding, the experiments that hone down the generalizations, etc. I recognize that. But they don't really impact my point, so I'm just gonna leave them be.

Speaking of my point...where, exactly, in this long-winded, half-baked jumble of mixed metaphors, is it?




It's here! -> So this mechanism...it's about self-preservation, protection, and nothing else. That's important, because it never really stops as long as we're alive. With each experience, the sediment builds and builds, inexorably. And as it does, it seems like most of us eventually pass some point in life where our sense Wonder and Openness towards new experiences starts to sag under the weight and give way, more and more, to Reluctance and Aversion. And why not? The fewer risks you take, the less you're contributing to your own chances of demise, right? So becoming jaded is...it's biological. It's a SURVIVAL STRATEGY based on pain avoidance, and if you've lived long enough to reach the point of becoming jaded--when you're mostly cynical about what life has to offer, closed up against intrusions of intimacy, and running out of people that you actually trust--then....

Well, that just means it's working. That sense of isolation you feel means that your primary defense mechanism has been doing its job.



And so it was that I woke up one morning and realized that, despite my active life, comfortable relationship, and cool friends, I had somehow, in the midst of it all, become terribly,

terribly

lonely.


This really blind-sided me. "How did this happen? I used to be so open...I was practically infamous for it! This isn't who I am!" Well, now I have some idea how it happened. The progression may have been completely natural, but I feel that I have lost something in becoming safer and in not encouraging others' trust. I don't want to live this way, so...there's only one thing to do, and only one honest way to do it.

Thus began jef's very public exploration of his most privatest touchy-feely parts in an effort to learn how to engage openly again.

Loneliness, you have company! Meet Scared Shitless and A Little Bit Hopeful.