The word isolation really ping-pongs around in my brain.

Quite literally, at times my mental process is what part of my brain would visualize as ideas, thoughts and relativity bouncing back and forth like a game of ping pong.

When I was a teen, a group of friends of mine would congregate at a local church for Friday evenings of wholesome riots. I can recall one and likely several evenings in which we would play a game of what I am now going to coin, *ahem* — The Looping Pong ™ (I will accept full credits for this name. Full.)

Here’s how the game works:

You gather about 10–15+ kids,

Give them all ping pong paddles,

Fold the ping pong table so that half of it is upright (and the young folks can bounce the ball off the table wall and instead of the other flat-laying side),

& One Ball to rule them all.

The object of the game is to have the little ruffians bounce the ball ONE time off the floor of the table (i.e. the part of the table closest to them) and then off the wall. By the time the ball descends the next player in the game must hit it back on the table wall, running out of the way as the next youngster swoops in and continues on the game.

The game is intended to be fast paced with the intention being to avoid the ball from going out of sync, etc.

The player(s) that allow the ball to drop are disssssskaaaawallllllllleeeefyed. And must sit out of the 3 ring pong circle and sob miserably as they watch which one of their opponents will be the conqueror of the ball.


So, what the truck does any of this have to do with anything important ever at all?

I’m glad you asked.

*page break*

It’s recently been brought to my awareness the idea of social checking.

The idea that giving a good ol sup nod to someone walking down the street can be just as encouraging as actually doing any ol random act of kindness.

How interesting … is what I thought as I walked down the street pondering this thought.

…That a meager nod could be as holistically genuine as any sort of over explosion of any sort of energy to (quotations) help (end quotations) another person.

And then quite literally in the very next moment I had the actualized realization: You mean I wasn’t put on this earth to stretch myself so freaking thin for everyone but myself…

Eternal ellipses.

Well, I then said to myself on a random Thursday evening at a random time and place,

That IS different.

And it made me think differently about the very word: isolation.

In my ever so calculating mind, aiming to define the word isolation, all the while still making sense in a global context and a microcosmic perspective. A polarizing pompous task, I’ll admit — but nevertheless my unceasing mind could not pontificate it any longer. The paradox of being and the paradox of alone-ness.

Apparently equalling out to isolation.

And so I thought, is it entirely possible to completely have a sense of utter detachment from all.

In so doing, embodying aloneness.

What I will say right now, is that,

I found it in silence.

In the restriction of words pervading beyond communication.

I found stillness and the joy of being alone.

Now, I’m fairly uncertain that life continues after I post this article…

So while we’re sitting here together I thought I’d sum up my best protips for the joy I found in, well, you know, myself, really.

I searched so hard for so long for reasons, purpose(s) and justifications. Tirelessly searching upon searching upon searching, rarely ever satisfied with any findings.

And so I concluded within myself: Even if tomorrow never arrives — I am going to be satisfied with today. With all the joys it has contained, the mish-mash of emotions and difficult conversations, the endless array of triggers and traumas. I decided that when I fall asleep: I am going to choose to be satisfied with today.

And through the looping ping pong balls and the swirlings of ethics and original thoughts,

I am satisfied with today.

Thanks always for reading,


“A little bit of stillness and whole lot of punk rock.” Hi, my name is Hannah and I have a Mental Health condition. Now, show me where the shitty coffee is.