I’m going to be really vulnerable here – after my separation from Sarah, I was scared of isolation. Like, really scared. I’m describing the kind of terror that had me filling my time into absolute oblivion, setting up meetings with people I barely liked, participating in organizations I had absolutely no fascination with, and basically doing everything I could to avoid being in my own apartment with my inner mind. It was tiring, really, and I was wearing myself out trying to escape something that was certain – being alone.
The worst part was that all this hectic pace wasn’t actually helping me heal from the breakup. I was just continuously diverting my attention, which meant I wasn’t dealing with my emotions or moving forward. I was caught in this loop of constant activity that was blocking me from actually healing. Plus, let’s be honest, constantly being “on” with people is absolutely draining. I was growing progressively weary, which made me even more fearful of isolation because I didn’t have the energy to handle my own mental processes.
The critical moment came when I got unwell – quite unwell with the flu. I had to postpone all activities, and suddenly I was stuck in my apartment for days with only my thoughts and a very high temperature. It was miserable. I was so stressed and unengaged that I was literally pacing around my living room like a trapped creature. That’s when I recalled my relative had showed me these online baseball games a several months prior. I’d participated with him a few times but hadn’t really developed an enthusiasm for it.
Desperate for something to do, I started the game. And at first, I’ll be honest it was just a entertainment – something to click at while my brain was going crazy. But as I continued playing, I discovered something intriguing developing. I was actually enjoying the moments I was engaged gaming. The contests were captivating enough that my brain wasn’t overactive with anxious thoughts, but they weren’t so challenging that I felt overloaded.
Here’s what really surprised me though – I grew to enjoy my time by myself. Instead of dreading evenings by myself, I started considering, “Oh good, I can at last focus on my sports tactics.” It was like this personal sanctuary I could escape into that was exclusively mine. No one else’s demands, no one else’s wants – just me and this contest that I was truly improving at.
The online community aspect was huge too. When I played against other individuals, I wasn’t entirely by myself, you know? I’d have these little interactions – “good throw,” “tough game,” things of that nature. It wasn’t deep conversation, but it was contact. And sometimes those short conversations would develop into more detailed dialogues about the game, or about other games, or periodically about real-life topics. I encountered individuals from all over the world who just enjoyed baseball games. We weren’t friends in the typical manner, but we were companions in this little digital world.
I remember this one evening vividly – I’d been gaming for maybe a few hours, and I suddenly realized that I’d totally neglected to worry about solitude. The realization just came to my mind: “Wait, I’m alone right now, and I’m not scared.” And that realization was massive. It was the debut moment in several months that I’d been solitary and not sensed that typical sense of dread in my gut.
As I got more relaxed with solitude while playing the games, I commenced diversifying. I’d game for 60 minutes, then study literature for a period. I’d take myself out to dinner and come home to a game instead of instantly messaging someone to arrange activities. The games turned into this secure foundation that made solitude feel less intimidating and more like a option I was selecting for myself.
What’s fascinating is that as I got more comfortable in isolation, my connections with others actually improved. I wasn’t desperately clinging to human engagement anymore, so I could be more engaged and genuine in those moments. I stopped making plans just to escape solitude and started making plans because I truly desired be with individuals. The franticness was gone, substituted with this peaceful assurance that originated from knowing I could be perfectly happy on my own.
I also found that I’m genuinely competent at these sports contests. I began creating approaches, mastering the details of various throwers, figuring out which batters had the best stats against certain pitches. There was something deeply satisfying about improving at something, about observing concrete advancement in my capabilities. And that proficiency strengthened my belief in myself in various life domains too. If I could master the timing of a perfect swing in a virtual contest, maybe I could handle other challenges life presented to me.
The games also gave me something to talk about with people that wasn’t just my split or how terrible I’d been experiencing. I could chat about my current series of victories or a especially difficult adversary I’d played against. It was regular, standard conversation that wasn’t serious or dramatic. It allowed me to feel like my normal self again, not just an individual dealing with challenges.
It’s been about a year now since the separation, and honestly, I’m in such a improved state. I still engage in baseball contests often, but now it’s because I truly like them, not because I’m running from anything. I’ve even made a few real-life friends through the player network – folks I’ve gathered with for tea or to view live baseball contests.
What I discovered through this entire journey is that isolation and unhappiness are two completely different things. I had been so fearful of isolation because I equated it with unhappiness, but these games showed me that you can be entirely by yourself and still feel connected and engaged. The terror wasn’t actually about solitude – it was about being confronted with my mental processes and sentiments that I wasn’t ready to face. The games gave me a gentle way to gradually confront those feelings, to sit with them without being completely overwhelmed.
Now when I notice myself with an unexpected free evening, I don’t panic. I don’t instantly begin messaging others to schedule events. I consider what I genuinely wish to do – occasionally it’s participating in virtual matches, at times it’s reading, occasionally it’s contacting a friend, and at times it’s just sitting quietly and enjoying my own company. The terror is disappeared, substituted with this serene assurance that I can handle whatever comes my way, regardless of whether it’s being in crowds or appreciating my isolation.
I understand this might appear a bit overstated, but those baseball games literally changed my connection to myself. They showed me that I could be my ideal friend, that I didn’t need regular confirmation from outside sources to feel okay, and that sometimes the ideal approach to form relationships with people is by first feeling good about yourself. And honestly, that’s a lesson I’ll carry with me forever, long after I’ve stopped playing these activities.