Bonded Through Intimacy

Beyond mere interaction, we need intimacy in our friendships to bond us together.

Written by Susan Knight | Seeking Veritas Columnist | Sankarsingh-Gonsalves Productions.

Photo by Chetan Hireholi on Unsplash

The story of Joyce Carol Vincent has haunted me ever since I first came across it years ago.

Vincent died in December 2003 at the age of 38 in London, England. At the time of her death, she was wrapping Christmas presents, presumably for people she cared about and expected to see over the holidays. How then is it possible that Vincent’s death went unnoticed for two years?

It's shocking, sad, and difficult to comprehend. For two years, no-one was aware of Vincent’s death as her body lay decomposing in her bedsit apartment. Her television remained on for the entire two years, but drew no attention. Nor did the smell of her decomposing body draw attention, as the odour was presumed to be coming from nearby garbage bins. In January 2006, officials looking to repossess the unit due to non-payment of rent gained access, and that’s when her body — skeletal remains by that point — was discovered.

The full story of Vincent’s life and death, at least as much as can be pieced together, is captured in the documentary film Dreams of a Life. It’s a strange and disturbing story.

People acquainted with Vincent all describe her as beautiful, intelligent, and vibrant, with an active social life. She was reportedly engaging and well-liked. At various times in her life, her social circle consisted of professional colleagues, roommates, friends, and romantic partners. Yet in spite of all those relationships, she was somehow able to fall off everyone’s radar. The general consensus among those who knew her best is that they may have worked with her, socialized with her, dated her, and even lived with her in some cases, but they didn’t really know her.

It's an unusual and extreme situation, to be sure. It stands out all the more because Vincent doesn’t fit the stereotypical image most of us have in mind when we envision someone being isolated and socially cut off to such a degree. Therein lies a critical reminder: appearances can be deceiving.

We can engage with people regularly, convinced we know them well, when in reality we know very little of what’s actually going on with them. Someone can be the picture of merriment, while inwardly they’re sinking into the depths of despair. Someone may seem to have everything together, meanwhile their life is falling apart. Someone may give the illusion of having a robust social circle and ample support, when in fact they’re painfully disconnected with no-one to lean on.

Loneliness and social isolation may be on the rise, but they aren’t strictly modern issues. These issues appear throughout literature and even in ancient texts thousands of years old. With that said, it’s impossible to dismiss the extent to which modern communication and social media have compounded and exacerbated the situation. If we can hide our true selves, misread others, and find ourselves isolated while interacting in person, how much more do we run the risk of this happening as our interactions increasingly revolve around brief text messages, carefully crafted emails, and superficial online personas?

Of course, in-person interaction doesn’t automatically equate to closeness. We’ve all had the experience of interacting with others in person, perhaps frequently and extensively, without growing close to them. Certainly in Vincent’s case, frequent and extensive in-person interaction didn’t result in longstanding, close relationships. This is where intimacy comes into play.

Intimacy goes beyond merely being in close proximity to one another, or having interactions where we share information. Intimacy involves the sharing of more than information; it involves the sharing of oneself. People get to truly know one another, understand one another, and trust one another. Intimacy reflects the formation of deep, genuine connections and serves as a powerful glue for bonding people together. Shared interest in one another, shared moments of meaning, shared references and jokes. A shared desire and willingness to invest. Shared vulnerability. Over time, invisible threads tie individuals together, establishing a bond between them.

Barring some kind of dysfunction or maladjustment, humans are wired for intimacy. But that doesn’t mean the process of developing intimacy is always easy.

Consider, for example, today’s current climate and the wide range of contentious ideological issues everyone is forced to contend with. People are left walking on eggshells, hesitant to express themselves freely for fear of offending or saying the wrong thing. Many are reluctant to reveal their true thoughts, ideas, opinions and values even with individuals they know well, let alone with those whom they don’t know very well. Yet this is precisely how we build genuine connections and lay the groundwork for intimacy to grow.

Or consider the mixed messages that abound when it comes to sharing personal struggles. While openness is often encouraged, there’s also pressure to maintain a picture-perfect façade so as not to burden others or risk coming across as negative. So instead of opening up about what they’re going through, people cover up, dismiss, or downplay their struggles, and this lack of openness and honesty impedes the development of emotional intimacy. (This also leaves people alone and isolated precisely when they’re most in need of support, making it all the more difficult for them to recover and bounce back from challenges; and putting them at far greater risk of sinking into more dangerous territory of desperation and hopelessness.)

Reflecting on the life and death of Joyce Carol Vincent, some have pointed an accusatory finger at her former friends, believing that somewhere along the line, these people could have and should have done more. Others point the finger squarely at Vincent, viewing her as solely responsible for the choices she made and the resulting outcome. But finger-pointing of any kind isn’t necessary. We can allow ourselves to be touched, moved, and convicted by Vincent’s story without assigning blame.

We can also allow ourselves to learn from her story. As we consider our own lives, her story is a powerful reminder of the value in making a conscious effort to continually nurture and strengthen those invisible threads of intimacy that tie us together.

About the author: Susan Knight | SGP Featured Writer | Contact the author: @ http://skfreelance.com

Susan is certified health and wellness coach with a focus on personal growth and inner wellness. She was a regular contributor to Social Work Today Magazine and is a featured Health & Wellness Columnist for SGP.

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