Books are seldom alternatives to therapy. But Dancing Snail’s It’s Okay Not to Get Along with Everyone is no less than therapy in print. It feels like a warm embrace, relatable embodiments of the battles of the mind and the self. Words feel familiar, as if she is one with the reader, and understands what they go through. She talks about being considerate rather than upfront, maintaining healthy boundaries and a safe space from others, feeling seen, and her emotional needs. And by weaving intimate experiences from her own life, the South Korean illustrator and author offers the comfort that a good self-help book should.
There’s a reason Haneul Shin chose to call herself Dancing Snail—slow and lethargic to others, yet dancing at her own pace. She is like many of us—introverted but willing to participate at her own convenience. She channels Virginia Woolf when she writes, “We need rooms of our own to focus on ourselves and preserve our identity and independence. There is a word for this in German: spielrum…Just as invading someone’s physical space causes unease, forcing your thoughts onto someone else is a form of intrusion into their mental space. Even with the best of intentions…Whether it is helpful or handy, if it is unsolicited, it’s always better to hold it back.” She advises practising restraint while showering others with care.
Pleasing, raw illustrations adorn each chapter, breaking down concepts into picture stories. Then there are plain advisories. The author doesn’t forget to mention ‘little tips’ after almost every chapter. Therapy has played a significant role in her mental wellbeing, for she talks about healing and evolving, and fixing things in her life. And that is why perhaps she acts like a therapist in disguise in her works—her illustrations are the notes from her past therapy sessions. For balancing healthy boundaries in relationships, she says, “…rather than trying to fit into a fixed role—whether as an inssa (insider) or assa (outsider)—or labelling yourself one way or another, maybe it’s okay to just drift freely, finding your own rhythm in the sea of relationships around you.”
There’s a constant push and pull with loneliness that the author plays with. She is protective of her own space, yet is willing to be a part of the crowd; in other words, she is alone but is not willing to be lonely. “Usually, I’ve enjoyed the quiet thrill of solitude in a crowd, and I’ve felt the ache of relative loneliness too…but being completely alone wasn’t quite as romantic or freeing as I had imagined.” She says getting used to loneliness is a matter of survival. “So if you find it hard to be alone or being alone doesn’t feel whole or strong, please don’t rush to label yourself as dependent or weak.”
The narrative is deeply personal yet universal. It is coming of age in a way that she emerges out of her conflicts with learned lessons that she shares with her readers. “What I’ve come to realise is that the presence or absence of a person doesn’t define my happiness,” she writes. After all, at the end of the day, we can only be as happy as we’ve decided we’re willing to be.
