Armor & Isolation

Hello everybody and welcome to The V Spot. I'm your host, Andrea Mancuso, founder and CEO of Intentional Healing and Wellness. I created this podcast because I believe vulnerability is our true superpower, and I want to promote a safe space where we can come together and engage in conscious and courageous conversations to encourage individual and collective healing. In the V Spot, we will choose courage over comfort as we speak our truth and pave the way for others to do the same. For each episode, we will unite in empathy and embrace our superpower as we spend quality time together here in the V Spot. Thank you for tuning in.

Hello everyone and welcome to the V Spot. This episode is going to be about a time of my life that I refer to as armor and isolation. As many of you may know, armor dates back to the Middle Ages. It was actually worn in dangerous environments and during unsafe activities. For those of you who may not be familiar with armor, it's a covering and it's made mainly of metal. It was used to protect people from injury or damage. It was popular back in the day. Not so much in modern-day Brooklyn. Well, that's what you would think. I likely cut out from the class that taught about armor, so instead I became familiar with it from movies like Braveheart and shows like Game of Thrones. Perhaps I watched too much TV at one time, I'll give you that. But I digress. Let's get back to the armor. After experiencing heartbreak and betrayal years ago, I must have unconsciously drew on the inspiration I learned from TV, and I suited up in the most effective, metaphoric armor I was able to create for myself. My armor was that titanium type stuff. I needed it. Even Pat Benatar once sang, "Love is a battlefield." She knew, and so did I. So I stayed ready, wearing the heaviest of armor. I wanted a high level of protection back then, but I wasn't on a battlefield. And what I previously experienced, that wasn't love. Of course, I didn't know that then, but life became harder and harder wearing that armor. It was tiring. Restrictive. It got heavier—pun completely intended. I remember a time when I was proud to rock my armor too. Arrogant about it, actually. But it was clearly a defense mechanism I developed. The truth is, I was so preoccupied with keeping men out, I never once considered what wearing the armor would actually do to me on the inside. The dangers of eroding and suffering inside of my own invisible gear. But I was committed to protecting myself. There was no way I was going to risk being hurt again. No way. Not this girl. So I continued to wear my armor and spend just under a decade in isolation. Yeah, you heard me right. Approximately one decade. That's almost 10 years in isolation by choice. Can anyone relate? So let's talk about that isolation now. You know, solitary confinement is a form of imprisonment where a prisoner lives in a single cell with little or no meaningful contact with other inmates. It's actually been reported that people who spend time in solitary confinement they're more likely to experience depression, anxiety, and even chronic pain. Sounds eerily familiar. Inmate number 21969. I've never spent time in jail, thank God, but I can certainly say I did a bit in self-imprisonment for nearly a decade. The days were long. And the nights, well, they were even longer. That's when the anxiety creeped in, even panic at times. But I stayed there in my metaphoric cell, wearing that heavy-ass armor. And get this, the cell door, do you know that it was open the whole damn time? I just didn't realize it. So I continued to sit there, Day in and day out. Of course, I longed for visitors. My family and friends, they always spent quality time with me. And the guys, well, periodically they tried, but I generally paid them no mind. I mean, I would occasionally talk to them. I wasn't rude. I'd even flirt with them sometimes. But the moment things got real, I fled the scene and took a seat back in my single cell again. And before you know it, months turn to years. Now I need to clarify some essential details at this point of the story. You know, I wasn't 100% miserable while all of this was going on. I actually had great times. I created special memories. I traveled to some incredible places. I met incredible people. I went to concerts, saw Broadway shows. I bruncht I went out for great dinners, took great dance classes. I absolutely laughed. But the parade that is life, it waits for no one. You know that, right? It waits for no one. So the parade certainly went on, and time continued to pass, and I continued to wear my armor and spend time in solitary confinement. Until I met this warden. He was different, though he was absolutely strict. He was consistent, dedicated, inspiring, motivating, kind, loving, committed in lots of different ways. But he was the one who showed me that my cell door was open all along, and he supported me in disrobing from that heavy-ass armor. Was it illogical in many ways? For sure. But I definitely believe the warden came into my life for a very significant reason. Or maybe I should say reasons with the S, because our time together not only freed me, it actually brought me back to life. Maybe I'll go deeper into that another time, but for now, let's talk about hindsight. You know what they say about hindsight, right? Yeah, it's 2020. It took years of intentional healing to learn a few key things. I wanted to protect myself from being hurt by someone else, but I never actually realized I was hurting myself by wearing that armor and choosing isolation. I eventually learned that I didn't trust myself. I spent years believing I didn't trust men. I actually blamed them for the pain I was experiencing, but the responsibility, it actually belonged to me. I chose to wear that armor, but armor doesn't protect you from yourself. I'm going to say that again for the people in the back: when you choose to wear armor, it doesn't protect you from yourself. Let me ask you this: in a battle of you versus you, Who loses? I didn't think about winning back then. That's why I didn't ask the question of who wins. But I now know that I wasn't at war with men back then. I was actually at war with myself. I was at war with my limiting beliefs. I didn't believe I was enough to handle another ounce of heartache. I actually believed if I experienced any more pain, I would break, and I already saw myself as broken. So can you see my dilemma? I didn't believe I was worthy of love back then. So sitting in isolation, yeah, it was safe, or so I thought, because it was my comfort zone. And vulnerability? Well, what risk is there in solitude? No, really, I'm asking. What risk is there in solitude? I mean, aside from the depression, the anxiety, and the chronic pain? None. Exactly. That's my point. You know, love is said to be one of the greatest acts of vulnerability. Why? Because you can't control the outcome. So back then, I convinced myself that I didn't want love because I couldn't control the outcome. But that wasn't true. I actually didn't want betrayal. I didn't want to see, but after meeting the warden, I realized I most certainly wanted love. So I laid down my arms, I retired my armor, and I exited the isolation of my own imprisonment. It's been 6 or 7 years now, I don't know, I lost count, and during the pandemic I really can't keep track of the time. But it's been interesting. Exciting, scary sometimes, fun, different, entertaining, overwhelming at times, special, adventurous, even weird. Even weird. But I have no regrets. I did the best that I could until I learned to do better. And then I did better. But I clearly needed that time to learn about myself, to get real with me, to heal, to become clear about what I want. I spent so long focusing on what I didn't want. And you know, healing isn't linear. It's a consistent practice, a discipline really. And it's a commitment to unlearning. I've said that before. It's a commitment to unlearning a lot of things. I've come through it to realize that I am enough to get through it all. The good, the bad, and even the ugly if there is any. I've come through it to learn that I am worthy of being loved just the way I am now. Not 10, 20, or 30 pounds lighter from now. Just the way I am now, in the skin that I'm in. And while I may not have control over the outcome, I've certainly come to trust the author of my story. And I do trust she has a dope-ass love story coming soon. You'll see. I'll sum this up by sharing one word. It's the word Mel Gibson musters up the energy to shout at the very end of Braveheart. Quite possibly the most profound and impactful word said in the whole movie. And without a doubt, it's the one word that resonates most when I reflect on what I gained from a decade of wearing armor and sitting in isolation: freedom. I have one wish as I close this episode out, and it's dedicated to every single one of you who is currently suited up in the heaviest of metals or sitting in self-imprisonment, in isolation, or maybe both, like me. My wish for you is that you choose to see that your cell door, it's wide open. That you recognize that you have the ability to take off your armor and set yourself free. Get back into that love parade. Choose intentional healing. You deserve to be loved, and that someone special, well, they deserve to be loved by you. If you don't believe that, do me a favor, borrow my belief for now. Until next time, thank you for joining me in the V-Spot. To be continued. Thank you for spending quality time with me here in the V Spot. If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe, write a review, and tell a friend to tell a friend to meet us in the V Spot. To stay connected and in the loop about all special events, join the email list at www.intentionalhealingandwellness.com. You can also join the Intentional Healing and Wellness Community on Instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn. I'll catch you soon.