I got a new phone. It takes pictures, plays music, counts calories and tells me where I am, just in case I don’t know.  It’s sleek and blue. It is the keeper of my schedule, the dictaphone I always wanted and the flashlight I never have handy. It finds sex offenders in my neighborhood and French restaurants. The only drawback is that it weighs about 100 pounds. I can’t lift it to my ear.  That’s the excuse I use for not returning your call. I couldn’t pick up the phone.

All my phones have been heavyweights. Even the old fashioned rotary dial, hooked to the wall in our family’s kitchen. Can’t…seem…to…pick…up…the…phone. It’s rude. I know. I am a rotten friend when it comes to talking on the phone. I seem to interrupt and never know how to end the call. “Hey, gotta go.” or “I’m going to get back to…” or “Nice talkin’ to you.” Personal phone calls make me very, very uncomfortable.

Why is this a big deal? Because my therapist tells me that isolation is bad, it is old behavior, it encourages my depression. I tell her over and over that I LIKE TO BE ALONE. I HAVE ALWAYS LIKED TO BE ALONE. I AM COMFORTABLE ALONE. That’s why as a kid I became a top-notch age-group swimmer. I could be around the kids but I did not have to speak to them. That’s why I like reading and writing – I do it alone. That’s why I like scuba diving, solitary walks on the beach and wearing my Ipod at the gym.

Technology as made it much easier and more appropriate to be alone. I can completely avoid human contact by emailing and text messaging. I can have friends on Facebook. I can get a date on match.com. I can shop, buy stamps and direct deposit my paycheck. Thanks to caller ID, I don’t have to talk to anyone I don’t want to talk to. In fact, last month I actually had a weekend in which I spoke to no one. I realized it Sunday night, as I was getting ready for work on Monday. It seemed like a good weekend but I knew it was not good for me. I cringed.

When I was in my last major depression I just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and be left alone. I did not want to talk, see or hear anyone or anything. Music sounded tinny and hurt my ears. Anything anyone had to say seemed insignificant. But I listened to one woman, my friend Pam. She has struggled with depression and bipolar her entire life and she is pushing 60. She called everyday and dragged me to an AA meeting. There I could be among people – many who had been where I was – and I was not expected to say a thing or even make eye contact. My fellow alcoholics saw my condition. The could see my friend Pam was watching over me. They smiled at me, their eyes saying “Keep Coming Back.”

I did. It took months before I was able to share at a meeting. I listened and listened and listened. No one pushed me to speak. Finally, I did. Even now, 11 years clean and sober and three years depression-free, I still don’t want to pick up the phone. I have dozens of friends’ phone numbers and when I do force myself to call one, we have a lovely conversation. Afterward I shake my head and wonder, Why don’t I call her more often?

The behaviors that mental illnesses thrive on are not easy to change. We have done them for so long that they are normal, acceptable behaviors. But I got smacked upside the head when I got my new phone. After an agonizing afternoon setting it up, I waited for it to ring. I wanted to hear the groovy new ringtone. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, my daughter called. Thank God. I realized that no one wants to call me because I probably won’t answer. Even less likely is that I will return their call. .

I’m putting the phone on a diet. I have downloaded the Beatie Boys song, Brass Monkey, for a ringtone. (Remind me to turn off my ringer in church, pleeeeez). Today is the day. I will call one friend and wait for the Brass Monkey.

Comments

This post currently has 9 comments/trackbacks.
You can read the comments or leave your own thoughts.

Trackbacks

Depression behavior: Isolation and the Brass Monkey | Depression … | Get out of your Depression Rut! (September 15, 2009)

Depression behavior: Isolation and the Brass Monkey | Depression … (September 16, 2009)

    Last reviewed: 15 Sep 2009