For as long as I can remember, Iāve been called āthe responsible one.ā I was the kid who took care of her own things, packed her lunches, dressed herself, studied for her tests, and finished her homework all by herself. Growing up, I was told this was a good thing ā itās good to take responsibility for your own life ā however, what I didnāt realize, was the latent lesson my subconscious mind was learning all the while along. While my independence was praised and seen as a predictive reflection of my successful future as an adult, it had the opposite effect on my adolescence and one that I can only identify after experiencing.Ā
The subtle commentary on striving to be independent can even be found in multiple crevices of the standard classroom; elementary, middle, and high school all preached the significance of taking care of your own things. This was beneficial to some extent; it gave me a sense of organization and self-directedness in approaching tasks, completing necessary assignments, and staying afloat academically. But like all things in life, there had to be a softer balance. I later realized that my alleged independence actually drove me away from other people. I despised group projects in high school because I did not completely trust other people to work alongside me. I didnāt want to rely on their quality of work, even if it meant doing less of it for me. So I would be the one doing piles of group work at the end of each Sunday evening deadline.
Emotionally, the hyper-independence pushed me away from those that I love. It manifested as a fear of seeming dependent on others around me when I was upset or sad; I did not feel I was able to ask for support when things felt heavy, because I grew up in a world where I was told I had all the tools to fix my own issues all by myself. Somewhere along the way, my experiences translated into a language that described independence as a form of my own isolation. I hated, and sometimes still do, asking others for help for simple things ā reaching out makes me feel inadequate or weak. In relationships, I felt my independence manifesting as a fear of vulnerability, almost making me an avoidant at times. It felt mortifying to reveal parts of my identity to someone else, even if that meant doing so would make me grow closer to them. Today,Ā I still battle with this mindset as I work towards becoming a more open and well-rounded individual. The lasting effects of my upbringing continue to surprise me in such ways.Ā
Another facet of hyper-independence I am seeing is this push in social media and education promoting less collaboration and more āoriginalityā in creation. For example, we often hear success stories about individuals who proudly claim they are ‘self-madeā or proponents of hustle culture stream products built on āpersonal brandingā empires, where the overall underlying notion is viewing loneliness as a strength.
Hyper-independence works to isolate by silently encouraging movements highlighting loneliness as an all-present and always positive thing, subconsciously promoting a lifestyle that detaches people from collaboration, new perspectives, or experiences they would otherwise gain from being around different people. Another example could be the whole āself-careā movement across social media.
While I agree with the idea that taking time for oneself is wonderful for mental and emotional well-being and should be structured into a healthy routine, I also see self-care used as a way for someone to isolate themselves from the realities of a changing world. This is because self-care is often promoted as activities someone should be doing alone; eating a favorite meal, a spa day, gau shau-ing, reading a book, journaling, etc. This does have significant merit for some individuals, but for others, it might also inadvertently suggest that managing mental and emotional well-being is something that people should only be doing alone; reaching out for help for either of these healths seems a little out of place in our modern society.Ā
By documenting a trend I have seen time after time around me, I see a common theme; hyperindependence is better than being a collaborative member of oneās community. This message, with whatever intention it may carry, can be harmful. It is one perspective that should not always be taken entirely at face value, as it is very much relevant to the culture of wellness we create around us today and moving forward. Silently, this vantage point overlooks the unrealistic standards and potential for burnout by focusing on promoting independence in a given setting or upon another person. At the end of the day, it is equally beneficial to identify that sources of support from others can be just as significant for healthy well-being.Ā