A Place to Thrive: Autonomy vs Community

What I suspect is an ancient and uniquely human struggle is once again making itself known in my life: the tension between the comfort and security of belonging to a group and the freedom and growth of exploring I am in the world as an individual. Whichever path I choose seems to lead to either compromise on the one hand or loneliness on the other. A week in the company of my sister and her friend challenged my routine of single, unemployed, solo living, and left me with new layers of disorientation regarding where I can thrive.

My journey to Albuquerque was a magical solo quest. I am not a morning person, but when my alarm went off at 6am, I popped up and announced to the dark room, “I’m going to have an adventure!” And an adventure it was, full of buses, trains, planes, and cheerful conversations with fellow travelers and airline employees despite my usual focus and reserve when en route. When my flight out of Portland was delayed and I missed my connection in Phoenix, I was faced with spending the night in a hotel or finishing my voyage in a rental car. After speaking with nearly 10 employees at four counters in two cities, I found a pair of airline veterans who were able to confirm me for the next flight to Albuquerque. Through it all, I was even-tempered, persistent, and willing to accept whatever was beyond my control. As a historically anxious flyer, I even found myself relaxing into the sensations of take-off and landing. The crowded airport brought home the sense that I am just one of millions of people on this earth trying to get by, which inspired me to treat others with compassion and surrender myself to their care when I reached the limit of my control.

The stay with my sister began relaxed and playful, but as the days passed, I gradually lost my footing. Being on my special diet kept me more lucid and patient than usual, but I was challenged by a lack of solid sleep, time alone, and my daily meditation. I compensated by welcoming the distraction of time on my phone, movies, large portion sizes, and animated silliness. I noticed my sobriety slipping as I tried to catch the attention of men in passing and let my thoughts drift unchallenged to playing out scenarios with men I knew at home. And watching my sister and her friend feasting, I encountered the worst cravings for alcohol, sugar, and fried foods since my recovery began. Despite their kindness and flexibility, I noticed my reticence to show them the affection I had intended and soon became aware of the misalignments in our priorities and perspectives, often feeling interrupted or contradicted when I shared. I wanted to feel a deeper sense of connection and genuine enjoyment, but instead felt afraid of losing myself in their worlds and frustrated that my sense of self was not strong enough to simply accept our differences.

My trip home was in stark contrast to my arrival. Everything on my journey went smoothly, but I felt more agitated by the sensations of flying, short on patience, and guarded with fellow passengers. I craved my healthy routine, but I did not want to return home because I felt unfulfilled and longed to drift unattached. My apartment, which has been a nurturing safe haven for me for years, felt oppressive with its demands that I settle and work in order to maintain it. The idea of being held by an intentional community returned with the promise of a simple life of shared work in return for room and board. I dove into researching my next trip, determined for the first time to release my apartment and everything I own in order to be light out in the world. My only relief from this aimless agitation was a chat with a Trader Joe’s cashier who asked me how I was doing and I decided to be honest. I shared my sadness at feeling priced out of my community and my uncertainty over how to survive in this world while nurturing my spirit. He responded with cheerful validation and I left feeling less alone with my crazy, contradictory thoughts.

All of this is very confusing to me. As much as I felt like I was losing myself by living with others and felt stressed by poor sleep and a busy schedule, my anxiety about life and my chronic inflammation had both been refreshingly low. I was reminded of how crucial it is for me to have routine, despite my longing to be free in the world, and to have space alone, despite my need for personal support. I have experienced how much more I can accomplish with others, feeling bolder and more creative, but there is also the constant temptation to subvert my needs for theirs despite the consequences. And while I have grown tremendously from being mirrored by others when I am raw and real, their vantage point inevitably obscures my true reflection. The meditation community I belonged to, the marriage I invested in, and ultimately every relationship and job I’ve ever had, all supported parts of me and some of my needs at the expense of others.

I have always longed for a stable, enriching community and family, but as the flood of guest blogs on Kim Adonna’s “Who But You?” series demonstrate, there are many advantages to striking out on one’s own. Living alone and being unemployed has enabled me to peel back the layers of interpersonal triggers and reactions in order to focus on what is mine alone. I have been able to deepen my sense of self and my relationship with my body, while clarifying and recalibrating the shape of my own fears and dreams. And the energy and clarity available to me without the stimulation of children, pets, or even roommates enables me to invest in creative and spiritual projects that bring a sense of vitality and purpose to my life.

While reflecting on all of this, I am beginning to suspect that the decision between a shared or an autonomous lifestyle may not be a choice I am free to make. Charles Eisenstein weaves a compelling case in his book “The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know is Possible” that our deepest pain as modern people comes from our sense of separateness and that strong reciprocity is a crucial element for interdependency. Unfortunately, I find it stifling to share patience, empathy, and cheerfulness with others on demand, especially when I do not trust I will receive enough acceptance, support, and affection in return to sustain me. I have tried to make community and relationship work so many times that I am exhausted by all the energy, clarity, and self-love I have lost in the process. I have found myself saying goodbye to numerous opportunities for reciprocity because I have increasingly found it simpler and more reliable to develop a connection with the divine in myself and the world. And if that feels less deeply satisfying than another’s genuine love, it may be because I am a relationship addict in withdrawal, ready to admit I don’t know what healthy intimacy looks like.

What makes the most sense for now is for me to step back from that blinding need to be shielded and nurtured, and to chart a course away from what feels smothering and towards what feels illuminated and expansive, whether it happens to be in a group or during time on my own. I will not thrive where a well-intended cocoon inhibits my growth or a chaotic free fall strangles my breath, but where I feel a genuine love of a person, place, project or lifestyle. I envision a time when I find something that can embrace all of me – where I can both belong and feel free – and where I am able to give from an abundant source of self-love. In the meantime, I continue that human struggle of balancing my need for autonomy and my need for community, and I trust that the clarity and comfort I need to thrive will be revealed in time.

Nancy

“If you cannot find a good companion to walk with, walk alone, like an elephant roaming the jungle. It is better to be alone than to be with those who will hinder your progress.” – Buddha