Fall and Rise of Introspection: Confessions and Speculations of a Social Distancing Pro

I’m no new to social distancing. With extensive history of being the odd one out in high school and an entertainingly quixotic character throughout my professional experiences, it is safe to say, I’ve had enough practice.

It was back in 2013, when I got laid off from my soul-devouring job at a Tbilisi-based retail franchise management company (before you judge my perplexing choices, do keep in mind that I was only twenty-something and a firm believer that all that mattered was my inexhaustible enthusiasm and a relatively sustainable salary that paid all my bills at the time), shortly after leaving rainy London and what I still refer to as the only thing that ever came close to being absolutely in love with someone, that I faced the personal Demons of Diffidence amidst metamorphic political upheaval in my hometown for the first time.

Having had most things in life typically come to me (straight A nerds and charismatic overachievers will empathize), I found myself utterly crippled by the lack of interest in what would mostly be labeled as my “over-qualification” and recurrent lectures on how one must take advantage of contacts at a prestigious university.

It was the inevitable terror of not being able to pay rent and several pending credit card bills that forced me to update my LinkedIn profile and put my undocumented skills into practice. That marked the beginning of what I’d like to think of as [one of] the first remote job[s] in Tbilisi as an independent marketing strategy consultant. A couple of local and stateside re-branding projects and affiliation with Harvard’s first multimedia publication (which, I admit, and Steven will confirm, was mostly talk and limited action on my part) that put experiential marketing to great use at the time, looked eye-catching on paper. But all I could really bring to the table was a set of crude analytical and problem-solving skills and the belief that creativity can and must be applied to all areas of the business [and life at large].

I quickly gained clients and, despite having to constantly prove and report progress with my time spent outside of the office to distrustful top- and mid-level management, I maintained customary enthusiasm for this strange new experiment of mine. My way of dealing with countless harassment cases of all sorts (oh, yeah, #metoo) was après-work wine drinking and novel academic pursuits. The latter seemed appropriate, given my tendency to blame myself for everything and fall deeper into the abyss of terminal self-doubt.

I would repeatedly find myself in an unwholesome romantic relationship and voluntary psychoanalysis sessions that followed, as I dug deeper into my not-only-daddy issues. There, too, I would be forced to accept lengthy reprimands for failing to put my Ivy League diploma to “good use” and refusing to accept that “the world’s as it should be”. Popular piece of advice from friends to finally learn my lesson and “simply stop caring this much” was never really of much help either.

I took introversion to a whole new level after essentially donating the idea of my dreams (to create the first free co-working space for creative locals) to a commercial client at the time — in what proved to be in utter vain. As my iron logic substantiated my ineptitude further, I decided to gain a dozen pounds and give myself yet another excuse for diffidence. Having luckily paid and cancelled all my credit cards just in time, I snuck my way into literary translation, which paid little to none, but served as perfect means for not having to leave my bed for days.

With books, limited pay and an imperfect reflection in the mirror, I completely lost touch with my surroundings. I would rarely leave my apartment and, if in absolute need, wear oversized hoodies to hide my love handles and avoid running into random acquaintances in these small-town streets.

I lost friends — or who I had considered as friends for most of my life — and received fewer shady messages from strangers on Facebook. As I posted less and less on my profile and “haha-ed” fewer posts by others, I soon ran out of excuses to use social media completely (understandably so, as million-view yellow pages and sun-kissed mirror selfies grew exponentially exasperating).

Even though I have Tai chi and multiple years of a vegetarian diet to thank for it, I naturally began to master the art of [self-]observation and soon became extremely sensitive to energies. As I got to know the Turbulent Mediator inside of me, my sky-high expectations towards myself and others metamorphosed into healthy reason and forthright silence in times of disagreement.

As I realized that the goings-on in my head may and shall not be comprehensible to everyone, my thoughts became my superpower. They filled pages of the many unfinished journals on my desk and aided a few friends here and there in times of trouble. The inherent need to be understood distanced me from hundreds of people, whose tendency to speak often and with confidence about things that did not really matter [to me] was particularly perceptible via social media. Having complained for most of my life about my inability to identify people (which had been the sole source of heavy heartbreaks for years), I became great at spotting casual trend-engrossed influencers and predisposed journalists, strait-laced boffins and thick-skinned devotees.

And there, in the silence, away from the manic frenzy of the “modern normal”, I began to hear the quiet voices, scattered here and there, all around. As I connected with like-minded individuals on an intimate level, I found myself sharing the fruits of my inexorable musings and gradually opening up. Our connection metamorphosed into a superpower of sorts, which gave me greater confidence to stand for things that matter and have my voice heard in times of need.

And how, you wonder, does the story end?

For now, with COVID-19. Now that millions of people are forced to stay at home and face their demons, large-scale introspection is inevitable. I am curious to see where a much-needed break from mechanical consumerism and the opportunity to observe modern life from afar lead us collectively. Perhaps, it is a chance to show our true colors and differentiate ourselves from the generic image projected through popular media. At least, in my current field of operation, I know it’s a chance for brands that truly care to stand out with their natural tendency to show support and rise above the trend of pompous yet skin-deep values displayed on company websites, which merely drive sales and melt hearts of audiences for the sake of inherently one-way arrangements.

As people look within, extensive awareness of the absolute interconnectedness of all matter and thought, which I believe to be the sole path towards a much needed supraconsciousness, is inevitable. Only then, against the odds of so-called social status or dissimilar quantifiable value of our academic pursuits, may we tap into the kolektado — the sum of our experiences and stories of victories across millennia, our superpowers and nurtured best-practices, the true essence of our inventions and the love that’s all around.

And perhaps, that shall be the end of self-serving syndicates as we know it — a leap away from revolutions and a unanimous covenant that our evolution as a collective requires us to act mindfully, in tandem, if we are to endure and live on to explore distant galaxies.

And I, on my end, do intend to keep writing.