WHAT KEEPS US APART IS …
OFTEN WHAT HOLDS US TOGETHER
Estrangement. It’s what’s for dinner.
No wait. That’s beef. Unless, of course, you’re sensible and pursue a vegetarian lifestyle. Then it’s tofu. Definitely tofu. And vegetables. And, yeah, maybe a hefty dose of dairy-free ice cream.
But we’re not talking nutrition in today’s post. Unless, come to think of it, we are: emotional nutrition.
So first, what is estrangement?
Merrian-Webster defines estranged as an adjective meaning: having lost [a] former closeness and affection; in a state of alienation from a previous[ly] close […] relationship.
If you start doing some reading up on estrangement in general, a lot of what you’re going to stumble across initially is how harmful it is. And if you’re feeling estranged from someone, that’s probably going to make you feel worse than you already do. You’re going to be thinking, what’s wrong with me?
One of the operative words in that Merrian-Webster definition is lost.
But I’m here to say, don’t let society gaslight you. Why? Because the truth is what is keeping you apart may actually be holding you together. What if estrangement were actually a gain?
There’s a baked-in expectation in our society that distance = deficit. Thing is, that’s only one point of view. Sometimes distance = the breathing room you need to thrive.
Maybe you’re wondering what has me onboard this particular train of thought today. Well, it all began with an early NPR piece this morning about the difficulty one little girl—all of age four—was having adjusting to preschool.
Her difficulty adjusting stymied the so-called experts. They said it was because she was “autistic.” They said it was because she was “gifted.” But is it possibly more simple than that? Could it be that forcing groups of very young children into non-familial settings at such tender ages is actually unnatural to their developmental stage?
The NPR piece was all about one of the latest 3-letter pathologies to hit the news: PDA. It stands for Pathological Demand Avoidance.
Of course, we’re talking two different topics here, but my listening to the one (much of which I thought was a lot of hogwash) made me think of the other; it made me think of avoidance in general, and how avoidance isn’t always a pathology.
Often, avoidance is the act of saving your sanity because it’s actually preserving your sense of self.
All my life I’ve heard endless chatter about the importance of community, yet my prevailing mindset has remained one of individuality. Why is that?
Look, I’m not trying to pretend community isn’t important or that humans in general are not, on the whole, herd animals. But there’s something missing in the conversation. Something important. And I think it’s deep. I think it’s genetic.
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
I’ve talked in a few of my longer-ago posts about my thoughts on flockers vs. non-flockers, and this is perhaps, at heart, another of those posts.
It’s not a well-formed nor well-framed post, perhaps; this is more of a stream-of-consciousness post, which is to say that I’m still trying to figure out how to explain to you what’s on my mind. There’s something salient to say here, and I’m hoping perhaps some of your comments will help offer clarity.
IMHO—in my world view, I guess you’d say—humans are divided into two main types: flockers and non-flockers. I and my husband are of the latter category, and we know many individuals of each type.
Flockers aren’t hard to recognize. For instance, if you’re the first in to, say, a movie, flockers will be the ones who—despite hundred of seats far away from you—will choose to sit RIGHT beside, in front of, or behind you. Fellow non-flockers will have the sense to space themselves somewhat apart.
Flockers tailgate. They can’t bear distance between the front of their car and the end of yours. Now, that’s a pathology!
Flockers are close-talkers, probably loud-talkers, and many almost never STFU. Now, that’s pathological.
Love being a salesperson? You’re probably a flocker. Do you enjoy being in stadiums or attending concerts filled with thousands of people? Flocker.
Non-flockers, on the other hand, not only relish peace, distance, quiet, isolation, and space, they require it. Non-flockers prefer one-on-one encounters with other humans over group encounters of any kind. Non-flockers are probably—to use modern psychological vernacular—easily over-stimulated.
Perhaps they’ll eventually discover that autism is simply an ever-widening arc across what’s actually the non-flocker spectrum.
So, getting back to the NPR story about the girl who couldn’t handle the demands of pre-school, what I’ve often thought about hyper-social settings like school is that they were designed by flockers for flockers. Naturally, such people pathologize anyone who isn’t onboard. And students (and their parents) who aren’t onbaord quickly fall into the merry-old-“there must be something wrong with you if you don’t like school”-go-round.
I lived it. And so did/do millions of other people.
There’s good reason I called school prison camp when I was a kid; it felt like it.
My first strong memories of school date to kindergarten. Back then, the age restrictions weren’t as strict, so I started kindergarten at the tender age of four—the same age as the kid featured on this morning’s NPR story.
One of my strongest memories were of a day when recess time arrived and I didn’t want to go outside. It was a beautiful day, but I saw an opportunity. All the other kids quickly clambered outside on demand, which meant the toys that were inside—ones normally reserved for rainy days—were available.
I’d long wanted to play (on my own) with the set of giant wooden building blocks, but had never gotten the chance to do so. That day, I decided, was the day.
I remember my teacher—Miss Farrell—trying to coax me outside, but eventually she just stood in the open doorway so she could keep both me and the rest of the class in her sights. I appreciate that she let me play with those blocks.
I built myself into an enclosure, a wonderful wooden fortress completely surrounding me. It felt good. It felt safe and special. I could have probably sat in that imagined castle for hours.
To this day that image and that memory have stayed with me. It was a happy moment—which was fairly rare for me—and that’s a pretty troubling thing to say about any four-year-old.
Some of the missing context? Well, it might be that, as the youngest of nine, I wasn’t accustomed to a space of my own. It might be that I wasn’t initially being instilled with a strong enough sense of individuality (remember that herd mentality thing I mentioned earlier?) and was merely expressing my uniqueness.
Then again, a more important context might lie elsewhere. A more insightful context might be that even back in kindergarten I was already having what we’d call in this day and age “me-too moments.” And that definitely IS a troubling thing to say about any four-year-old.
Yet it’s common, eh? Sooooo troublingly common among humans.
BACK TO THE FUTURE
So back to the topic of estrangement—although we’ve never really left it.
We can be estranged from family, but so-to from co-workers, friends, neighbors. And there are a myriad reasons we can become estranged. Sure, some can date to childhood, but others crop up later in life.
Let’s face it. Some people are just toxic to us. Hell, we’re likely toxic to some others, as well. It isn’t that we’re trying to be, but something about us and where we are in our life journey might just not resonate well with them in a positive way. And to that I say, “Ta-ta! Have a nice life.”
I don’t have to wish ill on people who prove toxic to my wellbeing, I just have to wish distance.
Blessed, blessed distance.
Someone with a flocker mentality is going to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to bridge toxic relationships—either in their own lives or in the lives of others—while someone with a non-flocker mentality is going to be able to make a cleaner, healthier break, and they’re also going to be able to appreciate the opportunity to do so.
One place friction often arises in young people’s lives is when they first go away to college, or perhaps into the military. Suddenly they’re put in forced close-companionship with other individuals that are difficult to get along with.
When I began college at Mansfield (Pennsylvania) I encountered just such a situation: a roommate stranger with values completely alien to mine. It wasn’t the sole reason, but one of the primary reasons I only stayed at Mansfield for a single semester.
And the college I chose to transfer to was one I chose to transfer to wholly on the basis of one thing: they actually had individual dorm rooms! YES! That was for me.
Problem was, when I wrote I wanted to transfer there and said I wanted a private room, they wrote back (people wrote actual letters back in those days!) saying that the private rooms were for “upper classmen” only.
Besides the fact that I found it annoying they used the term, “upper classmen” when it was an all-woman’s school, I determinedly wrote back that I would only pay to attend their college if I was promised a private room, even as a second-semester freshmen.
Alas, for better or worse, she (meaning me) persisted, and now I have two degrees from that school, never having had to share a dorm room.
I was going to say, “…never having had to share a dorm room nor sacrifice my sanity,” but as a general rule I really try hard to avoid lying.
And frankly, I think “an avoidance of lying” is more closely related to a “demand avoidance” than you might thing. That’s because the flocking nature of society at large seems to too often “demand” of its inhabitants to hedge (or abandon outright) truth.
Test: is Human Two, below, a flocker or non-flocker:
Human One: “Do these jeans make my butt look big?”
Human Two: “Why yes. Yes, they do. But that’s because your but IS big.”
How about in this exchange:
Human One: “Trump is a pathological liar.”
Human Two: “Truth is relative.”
ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT ESTRANGEMENT?
Why yes, yes we are. And the fact that a giant swath of AmeriKKKans are estranged from the rest of Americans (and from reality, actually) is certainly a salient point, but it’s probably the topic for another entire post, eh? Other than, of course, the point that such dunderpunks are definitely flockers through and through (my apologies to sensible but hyper-socially-minded people everywhere)!
But let’s veer back to the beginning, about how there’s a bright side to estrangement.
There are many ways to navigate difficult relationships or other difficulties life throws at you, and affording yourself a bit of distance is far from the worst approach.
Some will choose self-medication (drugs, over-eating, alcohol, “keto” drinks, or mindless adherence to a religion) in order to stay within the confines of one social relationship or another, when a bit of distance might actually be a helluva better choice, don’t ya think?
Just know this: you aren’t a pathology.
No matter how you are trying to navigate this Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride called life, doing your best isn’t pathological—even when it goes against the grain of some flocker’s point of view.
They aren’t you.
And you? You’re super amazing just the way you are, flaws and all.
So please, let’s go back to saying “PDA” stands for “public displays of affection” rather than “Pathological Demand Avoidance.”
I much prefer the affection over the avoidance approach to life.
Even from a distance.
___________________________
Thank you for visiting with me on another Monday Morning. Tune in next week to (unless I’m avoiding it) get back to our on-going retrospective of my globe trotting misadventures.
Next week we’ll also plan some more book recommendations, especially in the wake of having just met some awesome new authors Saturday when I attended the York County Public Library’s inaugural Local Author Event which was held at the Martin Library in York, PA (many authors aren’t flockers but still like getting together occasionally)!
They did an amazing job, so thank you librarian, Jill Weston, and thanks to all the authors and attendees who made the event a success.