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How to Build Walls Instead of Bridges: A Recipe

I isolate myself when life gets overwhelming — it’s almost like a talent. Updating people? Exhausting. And who actually wants help anyway? Not me, apparently. But thanks for asking.

So far, I’ve got two main ingredients for my recipe: isolation and rejecting help. What else should I throw in? A pinch of self-sabotage? A generous scoop of overworking? Perfect. Stir until you’re burned out. Et voilà — now we’ve got the ultimate formula for how to stay alone and keep it that way.

Funny how that works. No one plans to end up here. Still, somehow, I do. Sitting in silence, scrolling through empty conversations, wondering where everyone went. But yeah, it was me. The one who closed the door, lit the stove, followed the recipe I wrote. Then I acted surprised when the smoke filled the room. Oops.

I convince myself that solitude is the safest place — no expectations, no disappointments. But the truth is, it’s lonely. And the harder I cling to that isolation, the more I push people away, even those who genuinely want to stay.

I’ve learned I’m not the only one who does this. Most of us were taught early: don’t need too much, don’t take up space. So we build walls instead of bridges and call it independence. But all they do is echo our own noise back at us.

Breaking out of this loop isn’t easy. It means naming the fear. It means practicing vulnerability. It means asking for help before everything crashes. And sometimes, it just means answering a message instead of going quiet. (Still working on that.)

I’m still learning. Learning to reach out, to let others in without losing my own rhythm. But I’m starting to believe that people want to be there, to listen, to hold space. And maybe accepting help isn’t weakness. Maybe it’s just being human.

At least now I know: recipes can always be rewritten.