Sometimes I wonder if it's mere coincidence that every one of my friends lives far away--in most cases too far for us to hang out together. Some of them are online friends I've never even met in person.
I'm thinking about this because it occurs to me that I'm lonely. Hugely, constantly lonely.
How long does it take me to identify an ongoing emotion? I'm not sure, but I know that loneliness has stalked me for quite some time now, probably for over a year.
Loneliness is what awakens me in the dead of the night, causing my heart to sink at the thought of having to face yet another day, alone.
Loneliness is pretty much my only companion these days. I interact with others: grandkids and sons, but my social life is at a complete standstill.
The things I would normally confide to Sissyface I no longer have any outlet for. You know how there are some things you tell to only one person, because only that person would get it? Because we grew up in the same warped family and suffered the same abuses, Sissyface is the one I used to talk to in depth about childhood issues. What do you do when the person you once confided so much in is no longer available? Should I go trolling for a new relationship, hoping I find someone I can eventually feel that comfortable with, who would also, magically, understand all the aspects of my painful childhood which I never had to spell out to my sister? I haven't the energy, time, nor the heart to get into deep explanations, even if I were to find someone who would care to hear it.
Loneliness is why I can't seem to get my bearings. It's not the only reason, perhaps. Quitting smoking has also caused me to feel disoriented, as if I'm perpetually forgetting to do something. But the loneliness was there, alive and thriving, long before I gave up that habit.
Loneliness creates a restlessness that effectively blocks all interest in what I used to care about.
Perhaps loneliness isn't the true culprit here, but rather an offshoot from a more complex problem: my inability to trust.
Because my inability to trust was severely damaged at a young age, I've found it difficult to let down my guard. Once I manage to establish a degree of intimacy with someone, I don't have a desire to experience closeness with anyone else. Or, I don't have anything to give to another relationship.
Loneliness is the result of putting all my eggs in one basket. Having come to this conclusion, I'm clueless as to what to do about it. Maybe the obvious thing to do would be to pursue new relationships, or attempt to deepen the ones I've already formed. But the obvious is not always so simple for those of us with DID. And let's face it, I don't want to replace my friendship with my sister with someone else. I'm surprised how I keep harping on this; apparently I'm more hurt my her abnegation of our relationship than I'd originally thought.
How easy it would be to continue folding in on myself until I am effectively emotionally cut off from everyone. I have this tendency anyway. Something, or someone, inside cries out for more. Don't I need--and deserve--healthy, life affirming relationships? Don't I have something to offer others? If some I've been intimate with in the past no longer value what I have to offer, that doesn't mean that no one else ever will.
Loneliness. Such a troubling subject for someone who really doesn't want to pursue relationships anyway. I acknowledge that everyone needs to be in relationship with others. I can see how a person could probably die of loneliness, eventually. For that reason, and perhaps only for that reason, I'm not going to simply give up on myself. I've quit smoking, mainly for health reasons. Surely now that I've dropped a negative in order to enrich my life, I can focus on adding something positive to further my well-being?
Sometimes I wonder if it's mere coincidence that every one of my friends lives far away . . .