You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘loneliness’ tag.

Reaching out and asking for friendship obviously didn’t work, so I’m at a loss and feeling more alone than ever. 

I was missing a friend of mine, and was encouraged to reach out and tell her I missed her.  And I got the following, “I’m still around, and I know you’re having a rough time, but I’m too wrapped in my own drama to deal with yours.”  Ouch.

I wasn’t asking to be “dealt with” or even to cry on someone’s shoulder.  I’m not a damn project that you have to have energy to deal with.  I am not my mental illness.

What I was asking for was just to talk like we used to, to joke around and take our minds off our dramas for a while.  I’m a really funny person (at least I think so) and I know how to joke around and be “normal” even if I don’t feel it.

What I was asking for in my last post was just…validation from total strangers.  How arrogant to think I deserved any encouragement from people I’ve never met, when people I’ve known for years couldn’t do it.  Message received. 

I get discouraged when I try to reach out and hear nothing or get trivialized as a project.  And I get not having the emotional spoons to spare for anyone else, so maybe I’m not being fair?

I am hurt, though.  I am a person.  Who needs friends.  And not only am I not making more, I’m losing them daily.

It hurts and it sucks.  Why bother?

I’m barely holding onto the strings of sanity. I’ve been the caretaker of someone else, losing precious sleep, ignoring my own needs, and getting angrier and angrier.  Today I feel like the anger will snap.

I am at the end of my rope.  At the end of my patience and when I try to communicate this I’m ignored.  Or worse I’m met with an exasperated sigh and “oh not this again” or the old standby “you need help”.

Yes, yes I do need help.  I need to be taken care of, as selfish as that sounds.  I need to be listened to.  I need more help than typing my words into the blankness will ever provide.

But I don’t want to pay someone to sit there and judge me.

I want my mom & dad.  I want my sisters.  I want a friend. I want connection.  I just want a hug.
I’m crying in the bathroom at work, shaking and afraid and alone.
I want to know that it’ll be ok.

Someone please, tell me it will.  Even if it’s a lie.

I have been out of the habit of writing, and have only taken to the page/screen when my emotions are too difficult to handle.  I should write more often instead of waiting until the bubble is about to burst on my brain.   Though I should eliminate the word “should” from my vocabulary all together.  Let’s try this again.  I should It would be better for my sanity to write more often. 

A friend of mine who has been reading my blog sent me a message that said “Sometimes I think you should just come home”.  I know that it most likely wasn’t his intention, but It made me think that maybe I come off as completely miserable here in London with my husband.   So let me be clear, I’m only miserable inside my own skin.  That makes it harder to bear sometimes because I “should” (ugh, that horrible word) be happy.  I “shouldn’t” be depressed because people are envious of the life and things I have.  On top of feeling depressed, I feel guilty for not being able to just “get over it”.  I see the good and wish that I could turn off my depression by simply appreciating the things that I have.  But it goes much deeper into the depths of my brain, and I feel like I’m trapped in it. 

It also makes me afraid to talk to anyone about struggles I have being married.  It’s harder than I thought it would be, and sometimes I get so frustrated with living with another person.  I don’t tell anyone because I don’t want people to think I made the wrong choice by uprooting my entire life to move here.  I don’t want people to think that I don’t love my husband.  That has never been a question in my heart, I wouldn’t have chosen to be here otherwise. Sometimes, however,  it frustrates me when I can’t communicate effectively how I’m feeling.  I take it out on him, and that sucks the most. He’s the person I lean on the most, and when I’m pissed off at him, who am I supposed to talk to?  I’ve shut out everyone else and I don’t have any safe coping mechanisms since I gave up smoking. Last night when I couldn’t cope,  I shut myself down and went to bed.  I fell asleep craving the comfort of nicotine instead of dealing with the issues that were making me so upset.

Does this mean that I should just pack it in and come home?  Should I seek out a geographical solution to a problem that clearly isn’t?  No, that is clearly not the answer.  My reply to him was “What does home mean anyway?”  I wish I could find that feeling inside my own skin.  I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that way, no matter where I’ve lived.

But see this?  This is why I can’t write. My brain goes everywhere but in a straight line.  I don’t even know what the point is even trying to navigate or make sense of it.

A foggy monday morning in London

It has been a while since I’ve been able to write, even though I have so much to say.  My emotional energy is completely depleted.  I feel like I’m walking around in a fog, and I can’t possibly see the way out.  I’m going to attempt to use an analogy to explain how I feel, but please forgive me if it’s not perfect.

In my mind, I’m trapped in a room with six sides, and on every side of the room are full length sheets of one way glass.  Most of the time, I’m not able to see out, but I am completely aware that there are people on the other side of the glass.  I know I should notify them that I know of their existence, but all I keep seeing are the images of myself, and it makes me turn away and look down because I can’t face my own reflection.  I feel so lonely, but it’s a trap of my own design.  It’s what one of my best friends calls “hermiting”.  I shut down and shut people out because I can’t even face myself, let alone anyone else.

And then there are the times that I desperately need to reach out.  There are those few bursts when I finally can’t take it, and I need to feel connection.  In those moments, I feel like the glass is the other way around.  I can see everyone interacting and having a good life, but they can’t see me through the glass.  I bang the glass and make as much noise as I can and want to say “hey, notice me!”  But why would they keep trying to interact with me when I clearly don’t know how to interact with anyone else?

I’ve probably taken that analogy a bit too far, but it’s the best my foggy brain can come up with.

I still have the notebook filled with ideas about things I want to talk about.  I’m too afraid to share all the thoughts I have, as I’ve mentioned before. I see the words reflected back at me and they aren’t perfect.  I feel that they’re rubbish and that no one wants to hear them.

So I’ve not written, and I’m suffering for it.

I feel like I have so much to say but my voice is barely a whisper.

I have a very bad track record with journalling (my LJ is one example) because as soon as I find the comfort to really say what I’m thinking, I start worrying too much about what other people want to hear.  I would obsess over every comment (or lack thereof). I would be waiting for the comments to tell me how much someone understood what I was saying.  My entries were my way of shouting “Hey, world, I’m here, pay attention to me please”! I wanted…no, I NEEDED the validation.  And I still do.

What’s interesting is that I read so many blogs, and I don’t comment on anyone’s entries, even if they particularly touched me in some way.  As if my comment would just go ignored and unanswered and would be unappreciated.  I will go as far as posting on my facebook links that I find interesting, but unless it’s about something frivolous people don’t really comment on those either.  I’m sure this doesn’t help.  To make friends, be friendly and that.

I wish that I could be content with being tedious.  What I mean to say is that I wish I had a way of actually connecting with other people online.  It hurts my heart to see someone write a status like “wow, I really like cheese” and 800 people like and comment on it, but then someone else writes something insightful and meaningful and is virtually ignored.

All of this is connected to my confidence.  I am really good at faking like I have some, but inside I am still that 7 year old girl needing validation that I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it people like me.

But is it really every man/woman for themselves online?  Are we really any more social now that all this “social networking” developed?  I feel more invisible than ever.  Because it should be so easy to connect.  Even a moron who can only talk about tedious life updates has more interaction than I do.

It’s incredibly frustrating because I feel there is so much I could say or do that would make a difference.  So even if I find my voice, what difference does it make if everyone has stopped listening?