Ep 10 - Why Rural People Handle Life Alone | The Slow Drift Into Isolation

In this powerful episode of the Rhino Resilience Podcast, I take a deep dive into why so many rural people slowly begin carrying life alone.

This is not just a conversation about stress or mental health awareness. It’s a deeper look into the hidden psychological patterns that cause strong, hardworking people to slowly disconnect from themselves and others while continuing to function every day.

In this episode, I share a personal story about my own quiet descent into burnout, emotional exhaustion, and isolation — a season that eventually led me to the emergency room believing I was having a heart attack.

We discuss:
 🦏 Why vulnerability starts feeling risky
 🦏 How our worth becomes tied to being strong and useful
 🦏 Why self-reliance can slowly turn into isolation
 🦏 How stress disconnects us from ourselves
 🦏 Why isolation eventually starts feeling safer than connection

Most importantly, we talk about how to recognize these patterns sooner and begin reconnecting before the cost becomes too high.

If you’ve been carrying a heavy load lately… this episode was made for you.

🎙️ Listen now at: Rhino Resilience
📺 Watch on YouTube and follow the Rhino Resilience Podcast for more conversations built for rural life.

#RhinoResilience #RuralMentalHealth #RuralLife #MentalHealth #Resilience #StressManagement #RuralCommunities #Burnout #Isolation #MentalStrength #RuralAmerica #Mindset #EmotionalHealth #Leadership #Podcast

Transcript

0:19

Welcome back to the Rhino Resilience Podcast. I'm your host, Chris Swenson. And before we get started today, I just wanna thank everybody that's listening and watching out there. I truly appreciate the support and the people that have been reaching out, commenting. I, I greatly appreciate all that. You know, I mean, if, if these conversations are meaningful to you, make sure to like, subscribe, and share the podcast so we can continue reaching more rural people who may need this. So to start off, we're gonna continue with our new little beginning series here, kind of a fun question where you get a chance to get to know me a little bit more, but also a, kind of a fun way to make things a little more lighthearted before we get into the serious stuff all the time. But, uh, and I have the, the weekly question, which I named the weekly Oopsie Tootsie question, um, which is titled from my, my wife's children's book, Oopsie Tootsie, which is a great book. You can get it on over at Amazon. Um, so the weekly Oopsie Tootsie question today is, what did you want to be when you grew up? Um, it's interesting 'cause I didn't have kinda like the straight process into what I'm doing, but to answer the question, like, what did I wanna be when I was growing up, I wanted to fly airplanes. All I ever wanted to be is a fighter pilot. That's what I wanted to do, and eventually, you know, looking into going into the Air Force and to fly those really cool jets. But, uh, I have contacts and I wear glasses, so apparently that just can't happen. I mean, even though years later a friend of mine told me that, "No, you can... Once you get in, you do what they want you to do, but eventually if you keep trying, they'll let you." And I was like, "What? Shoot." Well, anyways, I decided I went up to, uh, I went to college then to go into flying airplanes, which I found out is not Not quite what I wanted. I mean, it, it's probably more of a hobby than it would be on a job. But, uh, I also realized, like, my family didn't grow up with a whole lot of money, and man, flying lessons, those things are expensive, especially through university. So, uh, eventually I stopped that, but I actually got a degree in accounting, and I worked in the business world for a number of years before I actually did what I'm doing now. And, uh, found out that spreadsheets, numbers, and sitting in a cubicle all day is not my kind of thing, so that was definitely not. But eventually I went back into school to, to do what I do now and, you know, becoming this mental health therapist and, and stuff. And I had a lot of friends that actually told me that, "Man, that's exactly... It fits you perfectly, you know?" Um, and so it has, and I've done this for over 20-plus years now. So basically, I guess to answer the question, I wanted to be a fighter pilot growing up, and now I guess I do things a bit differently. But that's our weekly oopsie-tootsie question. Um, but all right, now let's, let's just get into today's episode. So today I, I wanna talk about something I think a, a lot of rural people quietly struggle with, and even if they don't fully realize it, and that is why do we try to handle life alone? You know, why do so many strong, hardworking, responsible people slowly become emotionally isolated while carrying enormous amounts of pressure? And honestly, this episode matters deeply to me because I've lived it. You know, not theoretically, not professionally, but personally. And looking back now, I've learned some valuable wisdom through that part of my life, wisdom I honestly hope some of you listening recognize sooner than I did, so that the descent doesn't become a, as deep or as costly. Because most people don't... You know, most people don't suddenly fall apart overnight. You know, most people slowly disappear inside themselves one stressful season at a time, and rural people are especially good at this. You know, we're good at pushing through, good at enduring, good at carrying enormous weight quietly. But sometimes the, the same traits that help us survive can slowly disconnect us from ourselves and the people around us, and that's why I wanna, what I wanna talk to you about today. Not, not to shame anybody, but, but to help us recognize what's happening sooner. Because awareness matters and because isolation has a cost, not just emotionally, but relationally, physically, mentally, spiritually. It changes us. And sometimes the danger isn't that someone completely falls apart. The danger is that they slowly disappear inside themselves while continuing to function every day. So let me tell you a story And this story may feel familiar to some of you. 'Cause, you know, the thing about isolation, like most people don't notice when it begins. There's usually no dramatic moment, no big loud collapsed, no clear line where someone says, "Today I'm going to slowly disconnect from everybody around me." No. It happens quietly, almost invisibly. And for a lot of rural people, it starts in ways that actually look responsible. You know, there was a time in my life where I was the kind of guy people respected. I worked hard, I showed up, I didn't complain much. You know, the kind of person people describe me like good man and reliable, always there when you need him, the most mentally tough person I know, things like that. And back then, I got up early, I worked long days, carried a lot without saying much about it. And honestly, for a long time, I thought I was okay, or at least I told myself I was. You know, life was busy, but busy was normal. You know, there was always something. It was work, people needing things, responsibilities, another problem to solve. So I just kept moving. S- That's what you do. And at first, there really wasn't really anything obviously wrong. You know, I, I still laughed, I still showed up, I did what needed to be done, but little by little, things started changing. I started saying, "I'm just tired." A lot more often I said that, just tired. My mind got harder to shut off at night. Even when I sat down, I never really felt rested. My body was sitting still, but in- inside it felt like I was still moving. You know, it was almost like life was constantly pressing on my chest. But I told myself back then, "It's just stress. Everybody's busy. I just need to work harder. I can handle this." So I kept going. And because I kept functioning, nobody really noticed much, and that's the dangerous part. People often assume functioning means okay, but functioning and being connected are not the same thing. I think a, a lot of rural people understand this concept better than they realize. Most of us would never ignore warning signs in our equipment. You know, if a pickup starts making some strange noises, if a tractor starts losing power, something keeps overheating, we might keep it running for a while, but deep down we know something's wrong. And yet when it comes to ourselves, a lot of people keep saying, "I'm fine. It'll be okay. I just need to push harder. I'm still running." Meanwhile, the system is slowly breaking down underneath the surface. And the real truth is, you are the most valuable piece of equipment in your life. Your mind, your body, your relationships, your ability to stay connected and present, everything else depends on that But a lot of strong people keep postponing care for themselves until the breakdown finally forces their attention. You know, back, back to my, my life story is over time, I, I slowly stopped talking about what was really happening inside me. You know? And it wasn't because I wanted to hide. Honestly, I don't even know if I fully understood it myself back then, but part of me thought it didn't matter anyway, that other people had problems too, and compared to some people, my life looked, looked fine. So when people asked, like, "How have you been?" I gave them the same answer, "Busy." And the thing is, that answer I don't think was really a lie because I was busy. Busy enough that I stopped noticing myself disappearing underneath all the responsibilities. You know, little things started fading fast. I laughed less. Not completely, but just a little bit less. Things I used to enjoy started feeling more like obligations. You know, at home, I was physically there, but mentally somewhere else. Sometimes people close to me would actually ask, like, "Are you all right?" And I'd immediately say, "Yeah, I'm just tired." And back then I believed that because tired felt easier to understand than what was actually happening. Where the truth was, I was carrying pressure constantly. You know, pressure to provide, pressure to help people, pressure to stay strong, pressure to keep everything together, and pressure not to disappoint people. And somewhere along the way that my worth quietly became tied to how much I could carry, and without even realized it, I stopped seeing myself as a human being and started seeing myself as a role. You know, the dependable one, the strong one, the one who keeps going. And in my mind back then, I understood that strong people don't fall apart. So instead of slowing down, I just pushed harder, worked longer and stayed busier, kept my mind occupied because movement felt safer than stillness, where stillness, like, left the room for thoughts. Uh, you know, and the strange thing about emotional isolation is most people don't feel isolated at first. At first it feels like responsibility, then exhaustion, then distance, then eventually silence. You know, I slowly stopped reaching out to people first. You know, not like I intentionally tried to, but it just became easier not to. And somewhere started to s- You know, I, I started believing deep down that nobody would really understand anyway. And honestly, there were probably people who would have listened, but by then I had practiced carrying things alone for so long that opening up started feeling uncomfortable, almost unnatural, even when people cared. And that's how isolation works sometimes. It slowly trains you to keep everything inside, and from the outside, your life probably still looked normal. Even for mine. When I was doing that, at least on the outside, my life probably still looked normal. I still worked. I still showed up. People still respected me. But inside, I was becoming emotionally exhausted. The weight never fully left anymore. Even small problems felt pretty heavy. My patience got shorter, not because I was a bad person, because an overloaded nervous system eventually loses capacity. But I didn't think about it that way. I just kept telling myself, "You're solid. You can handle this. You just need to do better." And over time, I stopped asking myself how I was actually doing. I became so focused on, like, functioning that I lost connection with myself entirely. And eventually, I ended up in the emergency room thinking I was having a heart attack. You know, when that chest tightens, the heart races, body's completely overwhelmed. And I remember hearing those words, "It's not quite a heart attack, but something's not right. Stress." Stress that I've been building for too long. And looking back now, that moment didn't begin in the emergency room. It began long before that, one burden at a time, one stress at a time, suppressing emotions more and more, one exhausting responsibility at a time, until eventually I slowly lost myself without even realizing it was happening. And the truth is, I don't think I'm alone in that. I think there are a lot of rural people carrying this way right now without even fully realizing what it's costing them internally. You know, when I look back, I can see where deeper reasons I slowly started carrying life alone And honestly, I think many rural people do the exact same thing without realizing it. So to kind of get to some of those reasons that I'm now aware of as I look back is, let's talk about five hidden reasons why so many rural people slowly become isolated And the, the first one is vulnerability starts feeling risky. You know, a lot of us learn very early, whether directly or indirectly, that vulnerability feels dangerous. To be vulnerable is danger. Not necessarily because anybody intended harm, but life teaches us lessons. You know, there's criticism, rejection, being misunderstood, disappointment, watching other people suppress emotions, and learning that toughness gets respected no matter what. And over time, people slowly become guarded. You know, not, not like fake, but just, but just guarded. Because somewhere deep down, your brain starts learning, "Don't expose weakness. Handle it yourself. Stay in control." And in rural life, where privacy matters and people know your business, those walls can grow fast. Number two, our worth becomes tied to being strong, reliable, and useful. You know, this one runs deep in rural communities, 'cause I think a lot of people unconsciously believe that I matter because people need me. I matter because I provide. I matter because I keep things together. And those are honorable traits, but over time, your identity can quietly become trapped inside performance. You know, you stop asking like, "How am I doing?" And you start asking, "Am I still functioning?" That's dangerous, because eventually struggling internally starts feeling like you're a failure, and instead of reaching out, people hide harder. And number three, we start believing we should handle everything ourselves. And, and this, this is where, like, independence slowly becomes isolation. And, and rural people value independence for good reasons, don't get me wrong. But sometimes self-reliance slowly turns into statements like, "I shouldn't need help. I don't want to burden anybody. I can handle this myself." And eventually opening up starts feeling uncomfortable, even unsafe. But let me say this clearly If nobody in your life knows what you're actually carrying or dealing with, that's not strength anymore. That's isolation. And at some point, you have to decide whether protecting yourself emotionally has started costing you your connection to life. Because the same walls that keep pain out can also keep support out. And number four, we suppress stress for so long that we lose connection with ourselves. You know, a lot of us out here become so focused on functioning, you know, that they stop noticing themselves emotionally. Stay busy, keep working, keep producing, keep helping everybody else. Meanwhile, inside, they're exhausted, numb, running on survival mode. And eventually they no longer recognize themselves, not because they're weak, because human beings were never designed to carry nonstop stress without some emotional recovery or connection. And the fifth and final reason, isolation slowly starts feeling safer than connection. And this one honestly might be the deepest one of all, because over time, people start believing nobody would understand anyway. I don't even know how to explain it. It's easier to keep this to myself. And isolation slowly becomes emotionally familiar. I mean, even when it hurts, because isolation often starts as protection, but slowly becomes imprisonment. So what do we do with all this? Well, first, we pay attention sooner because people rarely lose themselves all at once. It happens slowly, which also means reconnection can begin slowly too. So one of the first steps that you might wanna do that might be incredibly small, you know, the next time somebody you trust asks you how you're doing, don't automatically say, "Busy," "Fine," "Just tired." Try being a little more honest. I mean, you don't have to be dramatic, just, just honest. You know, like maybe, "Honestly, it's been a heavy time." That's how reconnection often begins. And secondly, something you can do is identify at least one person in your life where you can stop performing strength all the time. You know, just one trusted person. That could be a spouse, a friend, a mentor, a pastor, a counselor. Just one place where you no longer have to pretend that you're carrying everything perfectly. Because human beings carry stress differently when they feel connected. Not because life suddenly becomes easy, but because we were never designed to carry all of this completely alone. And listen carefully to me here. You do not have to wait until your body breaks down, your marriage struggles, your joy disappears, or your life feels emotionally empty before you start reconnecting. Sometimes courage is finally being honest about how much you've been carrying. And if this episode feels personal to you, I want you to hear this clearly. You are not alone on this road. There are people who care about you, people who respect you, people who are thankful you're still here, people rooting for you even when you don't see it. Because you matter more than you know. And maybe today, instead of carrying it all alone, you begin to begin taking that one small step back toward connection again. Stay steady. We're in this together