Mike paid the entrance fee and behaved like everyone else but — unable to get on the dance floor — he eventually left, disappointed and miffed.
At first, he assumed it was because he was new to the area; maybe everyone else knew someone. But it didn’t get better with time.
Two years later he was still, and clearly remained, an outsider.
“Why Can’t I Just Fake It ’til I Make It?”
He wasn’t COMPLETELY unable to get on the dance floor. As a martial artist, he had moves and could hold his own among other solo dancers and pairs. He attracted occasional dance partners without desperation. He passes for white, like most of the people he saw.
The activity simply didn’t hold his attention for more than 30 minutes and felt like a waste of time and money, even though he’d looked forward to it.
Sometimes he mistook himself for tired, or thought it might be the time of day.
He experimented with what to eat and drink, and what time, relative to dancing.
Sometimes he blamed the music.
But deep down he knew it was “them.”
Why the Fake-It-’til-You-Make-It Approach… Doesn’t Work Here.
“Fake-it-’til-you-make-it” is a harmful, counter-productive approach if your issue is with whether to trust your own readings on socio-emotional reality.
If you pretend you’re not lonely, essentially, you’re trying to gaslight yourself. But what’s the alternative? Being gaslit by others is even more painful.
Involving anyone who thought they knew what he was going through or what to do, say, or feel instead, only made Mike feel more alone!
It’s so ironic. Addressing isolation takes… you got it… another person. But not just anyone. And not just any activity.
Instead of “Ugh… It’s Happening Again…”
I told Mike I felt like his inability to get back on the dance floor wouldn’t resolve itself from contemplating it by himself. And I didn’t think it would magically disappear when he was in situ unable to get on the dance floor.
Somehow this truth brought him relief.
That was what he was concluding, too!
But what to do?
It doesn’t take much time (about 20 minutes, to be exact), but it does take high-quality, uncoercive support of a certain type to affect anything at all. Just one time prioritizing it when it’s not actually occurring.
Of course Mike was loathe to touch upon this mood voluntarily, let alone take time to explore it. But I told him he could ‘pass’ on any question, refuse to respond, or shrug “I dunno.” He had nothing to lose.
Assisted Scientific Mindset
First, I helped Mike inhabit the detachment and curiosity of a truly disinterested observer. I invited him to join me in a scientist’s mindset. This gave him the perspective and patience necessary.
I asked him to answer just one simple-but-surprising question about the virtual materiality of his discomfort — about the unpleasant experience of “separate from them” itself. Not the time of day, not the music, nor the others’ body-language. Just an ever-more exact, scientific observation of certain qualities of his subtle, subjective experience.
At first, he had no idea what I was after, or why. But as he responded to one question, the mystery mood lost its power to overwhelm him. It lost the hijacking ability it normally had when it overcame him on the dance floor, or when he’d remembered it alone.
He became eager to respond to each teeny tiny question, one at a time, from his more-and-more calm, confident vantage point as a scientific observer. Not an unhappy outsider.
Are You an Unhappy Outsider?
Mike had a distinct advantage over anyone reading a blog post by a stranger online… so please don’t expect any shift whatsoever from responding to these questions… It’s just to validate that many other approaches aren’t appropriate for guys like Mike.
1.
Have you, like Mike, left things that took a lot of courage to do, wondering why you even tried?
Example of a response:
I don’t dare even leave the house, let alone go dancing. This Mike guy has a lot more courage than I do.
What was the question? Have I gone home wondering why I even tried? Yes.
Yes, I’ve most certainly gone home wondering why I ever made myself leave the house!
2.
Have you, like Mike, prepared in ways that make logical sense, but then had to assume it’s something else entirely — ending up tempted to blame yourself, or the way others respond to you?
Example of a response:
Well, when all the variables I can think of haven’t made a difference, yeah, I’m the common denominator.
It’s tempting to commiserate with guys whose theories about women/society make sense, but going down that rabbit-hole hasn’t really helped.
3.
Do you reluctantly remember embarrassing experiences alone, like Mike had been doing, without it ever changing anything, and find it hard to believe there’s anything to report about the experience?
Example of a response:
Isn’t that what post-traumatic stress is: flashbacks of embarrassing moments? Of course I’m done with that sh*t!
My mind goes back there involuntarily all the time, so why would I want to remember it on purpose, too?
Being asked questions might just prove there’s nothing to report, and I should “just get over it.”
It Makes Sense to Try to “Go It Alone” Some More…
If you go numb at the idea of someone asking questions about your pain, know that I can’t stand it when people ask me questions trying to change me or my mood or my opinion, either.
I actually find the opposite approach quite refreshing. It’s paradoxically effective on a voluntary, consensual level.
That’s what I actually do. No assessing reasonableness, no ridiculing, no linguistic trickery.
Just love.
Have You Tried Love Yet?
At first, Mike was sure the mystery mood was undetectable, but that’s a perfectly acceptable reply in my book. So me just sitting with “nothing” as a perfectly valid observation, and asking the next bite-sized question without any argument over what Mike reported, is what eventually allowed him to
- feel less affected when it reoccurred,
- stop having flashbacks altogether, and
- avoid the shame/regret hangover.
Noticing Thoughts: “Nobody Likes Me. Why Am I Even Here?”
The thought “nobody likes me, why am I even here,” was no longer a sign of oncoming torment Mike had to either obey, numb, or suffer. No more!
Thanks to the inordinate amount of attention to detail we paid it one time, together, Mike could easily recognize the “them”-feeling as soon as it started to creep up on him, instead of getting overwhelmed by it.
Now he can pause, right there on the sideline of the dance floor, instead of leaving all of a sudden. He can purposefully enter the scientist’s mindset and ask the pain a question of his own. On his own. Anytime.
And whenever he does… he opens his eyes to the dancers and notices
- way more eye-contact (and ability to enjoy it,)
- way more engagement,
- way more opportunities for shared smiles than just a few breaths earlier.
It’s not the music, the drink, or the people.
He belongs.
No More “Fake It ’til You Make It.”
I just want to remind you that Mike had done lots of painful and fruitless trial and error. How was he supposed to know that supported, subtle observation was where his real leverage point was?
He didn’t even believe me, until it was over.
Until he had proof.
Since he only ever did one mini-session with me, Mike missed out on a more complete change in his chemistry. Yet his story is all the more potent an illustration: my process is a quick, easy way to stop emotional pain from reoccurring.
I hope you subscribe for more examples and, eventually, tentatively, maybe check it out.
I don’t require you to believe me.
Nobody does.
At first.
