Last week, I wrote about anxiety and how I sometimes find it difficult to write authentically without worrying about what others might think.
This is a theme that accompanies me in many areas of life. In relationships, as a host, in public, professionally, creatively... I often constantly monitor how people are doing and what impact my behavior (or lack thereof) might have on them.
People Pleasing
Over the past two years, I've been exploring the topic of people pleasing and will write more about it in the future.
In short: It's hard for me to bear when people around me are not doing well, and I quickly slip into the mode of wanting to manage their emotions to then feel better myself. This is often accompanied by assumptions that I've done something wrong and must fix it immediately to make things right again. This leads me to overextend myself without being asked, which eventually results in escalation when I don't feel supported to the same extent (also without being asked). A downward spiral.
To counteract this, I've tried to find ways to arrive back at myself. To move out of other people's heads and back into my own mind and body. Not monitoring others, but discovering what I actually feel, what moves me, and what I need.
Solitude
For a long time, I saw being alone as something negative, something involuntary. Only in recent years have I realized how incredibly helpful it is for me simply to be with myself, away from external influences.
In Die Freiheit allein zu sein (German book, The freedom to be alone), Sarah Diehl describes the difference between loneliness and solitude. That solitude can help us experience the world and ourselves as authentically as possible. I highly recommend this book.
“Solitude is not (just) the absence of someone or something else, but the presence of my undisturbed perception.” – Sarah Diehl
Through solitude, sometimes things that I have unconsciously carried with me for a long time can sort themselves out. Like a ball of yarn with knots that need time and quiet to untangle.
Some moments of intentional solitude have been among the most healing experiences of recent years for me. It was very liberating to learn that I can also spend quality time with myself. This, in turn, makes me more open to the outside world because I am rested and know better what is good for me.
“Solitude is for me a fount of healing which makes my life worth living.” – Carl Jung
Solitude can also be a privilege. I live in a shared flat and have my own room as a retreat. I have flexible working hours and can go for walks, write texts, or go to bed whenever I want. Other life realities look very different. Not everyone can just travel alone or withdraw whenever they want. Work, children, caregiving — all these things can significantly limit access to solitude.
For this reason, I believe it is our collective responsibility to create a society where everyone has the opportunity to find spaces for retreat to recharge and then bring that energy back to the community. Because I think we would all benefit from that.
Solitude in Everyday Life
Since it’s not always possible to go on solo trips or withdraw for longer periods, I find it helpful to look at where to start in everyday life. How can I create small oases for myself in between and set boundaries when I need them to arrive within myself?
Here are some topics I have explored:
- Low Dopamine Mornings
- Digital Availability
- Meditation
Low Dopamine Mornings
I discovered this ritual through Pia. The more dopamine you release right after waking (e.g., through social media), the more the body apparently wants it throughout the day. That’s why the TikTok trend of Low Dopamine Mornings was started.
I often feel foggy-headed after waking and notice that I’m more susceptible to external influences then. My first reflex in the morning was always to reach for my phone for notifications and Instagram. It’s easy to absorb the emotions of a message or post immediately because I’m not fully with myself yet.
I currently try not to look at my phone until after breakfast. On days when I’m writing, I try to check notifications only after finishing the text. It doesn’t always work, but it’s going pretty well at the moment. When I don’t start the morning with Instagram, I’m generally less on it throughout the day.
Digital Availability
My friend Ben often says that as a society, we have yet to fully process the effects of constant digital connectivity on us.
Besides the heavy input I described in the Low Dopamine section, there’s also availability. In the past, you couldn’t just get in touch during the day when you were out. You arranged to meet in the evening and that was it. Today, there are many more small interactions and data points to manage. How quickly does someone respond? I saw they were online, why didn't they respond?
Here are a few things that are currently helping me disconnect a bit from this availability:
- About a year ago, I set my messaging apps so I can no longer see when someone was last online, or whether my messages have been read... This was surprisingly liberating because it just freed up the mental capacity previously used for these data points and worries.
- Last week, I stopped checking who viewed my Instagram stories. Otherwise, I quickly end up judging my post from someone else’s perspective.
- Turning on Do Not Disturb mode when writing or putting my phone out of sight. Closing messenger apps on my laptop.
Meditation
Meditation for me includes all activities where I am present in the moment and avoid looking at my phone as much as possible. These are often small oases in daily life when I notice I’m too much in my head.
- Breathing: Calm, deep belly breathing helps me ground myself and calm down quickly.
- Walks: Movement and nature help me a lot. Sometimes I take short walks around my neighborhood, through parks and cemeteries.
- Painting, singing & dancing are also activities that help me arrive within myself and organize my thoughts—even if it’s just 10 minutes in between.