Withdrawing is a survival tactic, but it hurts my ability to connect

Communication is necessary for any relationship to form, whether it’s platonic or romantic. The more I experience different types of relationships, the more I realize how pivotal communication is in maintaining their health.

One of the most challenging times for me to communicate is during a sickle cell disease crisis. How do you put into words pain that feels like near death? How do you describe the feeling of your cells vibrating with agony, your body so overwhelmed that even walking becomes difficult?

My instinctive coping mechanism has always been withdrawal, turning inward to protect myself. It’s ironic, really, because there’s no winning that battle. The enemy isn’t external; it’s my own body breaking down. But withdrawing feels easier. It feels safer. It feels like I’m sparing others the burden of my pain.

Over time, though, I realized that this instinct to withdraw didn’t just appear in crisis; it seeped into other parts of my life. I can come across as nonchalant or reserved, especially in group settings. I wouldn’t call myself shy. I know how to engage and how to speak publicly, but at my core, I tend to hold back. For a long time, I wondered: Is this just who I am? Or is it a learned behavior, something rooted in my upbringing?

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A survival tool no more

Therapy has helped me unpack that question. I began to realize that my reserved nature stemmed in part from the environment I was raised in, where withdrawing was a form of protection, a way to feel safe. That sense of safety became intertwined with silence. But seeking safety through silence can complicate a relationship.

Building deep relationships means defying that instinct to self-protect. Because that very instinct, while comforting, can come at the cost of connection. It can hurt others, even unintentionally. When we’re too focused on protecting ourselves, we can lose sight of the other person.

In my life, some connections of mine that once felt close have drifted apart. Our ability to communicate broke down. Sometimes it was my fault, sometimes it wasn’t. But if I want to build meaningful relationships and lean on my support network, I have to open the channels of communication and keep them open. I have to practice saying what’s going on — even if I’m in a crisis.

So this is a reminder to myself to keep trying. To keep choosing openness, even when it feels uncomfortable. To push beyond the boundaries of what I’ve always known, not because it’s easy, but because it’s right. Because I need this to grow, to connect, and to live a fully engaged life. Withdrawing once kept me safe, both as a child and during moments of crisis, but it’s not a survival tool I need anymore.

Note: Sickle Cell Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Sickle Cell Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to sickle cell disease.