Withdrawal Meaning

Marissa had always been the life of the party—extroverted, confident, and always the first to suggest a weekend getaway. But lately, she had felt an overwhelming need to step back. It wasn’t just from social events; it was from everything. The noise of the city, the constant buzz of messages, even the meetings at work. So, she began what she would later describe as her 'withdrawal'. It started with canceling plans. At first, her friends were understanding, figuring she needed a break. But soon, they started to worry when her responses became fewer, her appearances rarer. Her withdrawal wasn’t just social. As an executive at a tech startup, Marissa had always been glued to her phone, checking emails, making decisions. Yet, as the stress mounted, so did her need to pull away. She didn't know it yet, but her mental withdrawal was tied to an inner struggle—a slow process that was building up, making her want to disappear from everything. One evening, she stood at the ATM, withdrawing the last of her savings. It wasn’t for a trip or an emergency—it was for something less tangible. She was beginning to feel the weight of every decision she had ever made, and perhaps a withdrawal of money was just the start of a bigger one. That night, she lay in bed, feeling a strange mix of relief and fear. She had taken the first step, but she was unsure of what would come next. Would she be able to return to normal life? Would she ever feel ready to face her friends again? Marissa realized that just as people can withdraw money from a bank, they sometimes need to withdraw from life, to reset and reconnect with what truly matters. The next day, she made a call. She reached out for the first time in weeks, not to plan a meeting or talk about work, but to simply say, 'I need help.' It was the first step towards recovery, a different kind of withdrawal, one that was about returning to herself.