My attempted reblog and response to Mr Fry’s oh so eloquent article about loneliness, ‘ONLY THE LONELY’.
I totally get what you are saying, the whole push me/pull you/self sabotaging aspect of being as we are is immensely frustrating, and ever so hard to explain, even to the most benign and sympathetic.
I’m also on meds, and although every now and then I peer through rose tinted bins at a future where I’m all Zen, serene, balanced, and yes, even happy, walking this earth no longer needing them, but in truth, I honestly can’t see it somehow. I’m not working and I notice immediately if I don’t take my particular poison every day, so how the hell would I cope when out there interacting in the big wide workplace without them?
At the time I was put on my current dose of this stuff, my doctor soothingly assured me that my condition was greatly exacerbated by the traumatic events of being bullied by my boss and booted out of the the workplace (and yes, they did know about my condition), being older, not living close to my family, living alone, the menopause, blah blah blah…and that things would get better once I made a brand new start, but I’d been hanging on by my fingertips for years, and had no desire to reestablish my grip without the aid of medication.
And, even when I allegedly had everything a woman could want (youth, job, home, man who wanted to marry me, a bright future etc.) I would sit there in this desirable environment, surrounded by happy, chatty, optimistic folk, and think ‘Is this it?’ as it all felt like huge anti climax somehow.
As do many things.
And although I’m often lonely, my main default impetus is to go home as soon as I can.
And when I’m at home, guess what?
And now that I’m kind of ‘out’ as a known depressive (sounds like I should be signing some kind of police register, doesn’t it?!) quite a few friends and acquaintances have fallen by the wayside, but in a lot of ways it matters not. There have been many times when I’ve forced myself into company so as to not ‘be alone’ and as soon as I find myself there, I’m counting the minutes until I can leave.
I’ve been on lovely holidays, to the finest restaurants, red carpet events, festivals, family events and amazing countries and cities, but I usually can’t wait to get the fuck outta Dodge, and as soon as I leave, I forget pretty much everything about them.
I was once at a concert where two of the biggest divas in the world (both of whom I worship) were duetting, something I should have been honoured to witness and y’know what? All I could think was ‘Hmmm, we’re running over time, hope we don’t miss that last train home’.
One blessed relief from reading your stuff is that you don’t try and come up with an explanation for all this shit. Because there isn’t one. It just is what it is.
And that thought in itself makes me, for a fraction of a second, a little less lonely.
Many thanks for staying and writing about your condition, you are helping more people than you’ll ever know.
Sister Sertraline (of the 7 wounds) x