I fight with myself as a writer every single day. I reject this self-imposed isolation. I hate it. I don't want to do it. I don't know how not to.
It doesn't help that my insecurities are fueled by difficulties getting published. Every time I receive a rejection, it sets me back, and I have to begin all over again, Sisyphus rolling this rock back up the hill. I am getting older, waiting to get that rock up that hill.