Angela Mollard: Hyperfocus on data and discipline results in failing to flex social muscles

Self-care may sound noble but, if everyone is looking after themselves, there’s little time left for looking after each other, writes Angela Mollard.

Movies like The Intouchables reinforce the need for connection.

I knew I’d gone too far when I started making tortillas with cottage cheese. Blended with egg and herbs, they were the perfect pliable protein-rich receptacle for even more healthy protein. The fact they tasted disgusting and made me want to dive face first into a pizza was irrelevant. I was on a longevity quest and nothing was going to divert me from my goal.

The 10 ways with cottage cheese (whipped into a salad dressing, piled on to celery sticks, blended into pancakes … don’t get me started) was just one fixation. I was obsessed with getting sufficient sleep, cutting out alcohol and lifting the heavy weights which would see me live beyond 100.

I’d been upping the magnesium, downing the green tea, cold plunging like a loon, re-reading Peter Attia’s Outlive and saying “no” to all boozy occasions. Sure, I still liked to catch up with friends for a walk or to share my new-found knowledge – “do your squats barefoot for maximum glute activation” – but my self-optimisation project had a major flaw.

I realised it mid-ruck. Rucking is walking with weights in a backpack. To distract myself I was listening to a podcast with the brilliant psychotherapist Esther Perel. She mentioned something called “social atrophy”, basically a phenomenon where everyone is so focused on themselves, their busy schedules and their “self-care” that their social muscle is neglected.

Psychotherapist Esther Perel mentions “social atrophy”, basically a phenomenon where everyone is so focused on themselves, their busy schedules and their “self-care” that their social muscle is neglected.

They don’t reach out to others or seek face-to-face interactions and instead rely on AI – what she calls the “artificial intimacy” offered by social media.

Esther’s words were a slap in the face. It was all very well building up my physical muscles but my hyperfocus on data and discipline meant I’d failed to flex my social muscles and, in doing so, I’d misplaced something vital: connection.

Focusing on physical muscles, instead of social muscles, had misplaced connection. Picture: iStock

Such was the impact I stopped dead in the street that Friday morning, shrugged off my backpack and texted a friend. “Drink tonight?” Her thumbs up emoji was instant. But then, in case she thought I was up for a big night, I texted back: “Probably only good for one drink.” I needed to set a firm boundary if I was to return home to my lentil dahl before it got too late.

I’d barely ordered a glass of red wine when I realised something was up with my friend. She told me she’d been experiencing profound dizziness and had seen multiple doctors. They hadn’t got to the bottom of it. And then she wanted to tell me something else. Something she hadn’t told anybody – not even her husband. She didn’t want to worry him, but she needed to share her fear.

We talked for the next two hours, then I walked her home and continued to my place. I was ravenous, and worried about her, so I stopped to buy a family size bag of salt and vinegar chips. I expected to feel guilt as I dumped the empty bag in the bin. Instead, I felt the best I had in weeks. I may have diverted from my rigid schedule but I’d achieved something more important: I’d been there for my friend.

I’d achieved something more important: I’d been there for my friend. Picture: iStock

That evening hauled me back to what actually anchors us. We’ve become so obsessed with self-care, emotional boundaries and protecting our precious energies that we’ve turned human interaction into a threat to be managed. We’ve started “submarining” our friendships – disappearing for a time and resurfacing again when it suits us.

Concerningly, a whole language appears to have sprouted up to support this behaviour. It may be valid to announce that “I’m listening to my body” or “I’m prioritising myself right now” but at what cost? We’ve forgotten the world doesn’t turn according to our Oura rings or the macros we consume or our ability to compartmentalise, but on good old-fashioned care.

My generation, raised on neighbours dropping in, shared cups of flour and handwritten notes, knows that friendships are soldered and communities are bound by tiny connective acts that make life feel safe and rich and real. We have sufficient social muscle memory to self-correct and stem the atrophy. We also have a back catalogue of movies such as The Pursuit of Happyness, The Intouchables, Nomadland and The Help that reinforce the need for connection.

Jaden Smith and Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happyness.

What worries me is future generations raised on devices and distance. They hate speaking on the phone, avoid engaging in shops and deliberately sidestep conversations with neighbours. Yet it’s these micro-kindnesses that keep us tethered, not just to each other but to a broader sense of humanity. What happens when they need others but haven’t learned the art of reciprocity? Self-care may sound noble but if everyone is looking after themselves, there’s little time left for looking after each other.

It’s imperative that my generation continues to model real-life connections because longevity, I suspect, isn’t just about how long we live but how well we belong. I’ll continue to try out new ways with cottage cheese (and sardines) but, more importantly, I want to show others that they matter to me.

ANGE’S A-LIST

Sweeping Saga

I’m not sure how I missed Poldark but spotting several seasons languishing on ABC iview has provided a glorious winter viewing binge. Where has Aidan Turner – think early Colin Firth, only more appealing – been hiding?

Snuggle Sweat

Last month I emailed the fab stylist Brooke Falvey (follow her on Insta) asking where I might find a cuddly sweatshirt free of stupid monograms and branding. She suggested a Levis version in a soft blue. I’ve barely taken it off.

Originally published as Angela Mollard: Hyperfocus on data and discipline results in failing to flex social muscles