Loneliness

Loneliness.  It's a word that can call to mind certain images: a single tree against a vast horizon, a solitary ship far out at sea, a soldier on battlefields far from home, an unwanted child crying alone in the dark, an old cemetery full of neglected gravestones, George, the last Galapagos Tortoise, whose death marked the extinction of his species, an old woman abandoned in a nursing home, or perhaps a prisoner in solitary confinement.



For me, it also brings up specific personal memories, and feelings that began long ago as a child and continued through adolescence, college, and into adulthood.  It is the vague but definite impression that while life is happening, I am on the outside fringes watching everyone else, but unable to fully participate.  Something is different-wrong-and there is an invisible barrier that I cannot cross to join in.  It is a forbidding, absolute, and impenetrable division, which offers a window-like view, but is solidly and often painfully unyielding.



I recently felt that pain when I chanced to rebel, hesitantly, but hopefully.  Like an electric shock, the sting of the reminder of where I belong in relation to this divide has reverberated through my entire being.  I started to think about it today, and ponder what it means, and if I should just accept my fate, or if there is a secret opening that I am missing which will one day let me cross over.



Is loneliness synonymous in my life with mental illness and depression?  Which came first?  In the case of the most recent disappointment, I dared to hope, and to dream, and to begin to get attached to someone.  Perhaps it is the very nature of my loneliness that caused me to become too attached too quickly, and also to overlook the glaring truth that my own instability is not conducive to romance, and certainly not to a healthy relationship.  Knowing the reality of the situation does not stop the same familiar feelings from beginning.  The voice that says that I am less than, unworthy, too deeply flawed, and deserve to be rejected begins to pipe up, and with it the rush of awareness of my inadequacies, my failures, and desperate plans about improving myself so that I will somehow have value. 


While giving credence to the legitimate feeling of disappointment coming from this specific circumstance, I also want to be more deliberate about challenging the other more destructive thought patterns.  Looking at those patterns takes me a little closer to some of where my loneliness is rooted, which is in a terrible lack of self esteem, and gnawing self doubt and insecurity.  It is impossible to let go, or to fully engage when you question your own every word and action, and then second guess every reaction and word from others on the premise that they too must clearly see your deficiencies and reject you on this basis.  When rejection does not follow immediately, or even after years, there is still the fear that someone will discover the "truth" and the real, unacceptable version of yourself hiding just beneath the surface.  Sometimes it even causes you to bring out an ugly, antagonistic side to provoke the inevitable rejection before it comes with precipitating events.


Am I a sick, self-obsessed narcissist?  It's possible a sort of weird self preoccupation and obsession is one cause of such a negative self image.  Maybe I spend so much time introspectively that I forget how small my own issues really are in the face of life's ugliest realities and circumstances.  Maybe I am so busy worrying about what other people think that I am missing an opportunity to connect that is right in front of me.  Self-confidence, empathy, and getting outside my own head all seem like some of the possible antidotes for this problem.


Some of the loneliness also makes sense, looking over the past.  Growing up homeschooled, and under a strict version of fundamental Christianity that had a very isolating system of rules did not help.  Mostly I was at home with my siblings and parents, or in their tiny church, and with a limited sphere of influence and experience outside of books and my own imagination.  In that home and church, my voice did not matter, and could only cause offense and punishment if I dared to try to use it.  Feelings and emotions mostly rose from sin, were not acceptable, and therefore were best kept hidden.  In a house where control, fear, violence, and suppression were daily reality, loneliness was the experience of trying to manage all of the unexpressed inner turmoil and pain that had no outlet, and threatened to drown me.  Then, after being sexually abused between the age of 11 and 12, and subsequently being blamed and punished for "adultery" by not opposing the abuser, shame took over and drove me into the deepest, blackest, darkest hell of loneliness I had ever known.  There was no processing the abuse or recovery from the scars it left: instead the gravity of my depravity and the knowledge that I was tainted, unclean, spoiled goods, and unworthy was drilled into me in daily sessions where I was forced to repent for my sin, and told over and over again that I had ruined myself.  It was drilled in by being beaten, forbidden to leave the house, by not being spoken to by family members, or allowed to interact with other children because I was now no longer a child like them, but a woman of sin who would ruin my friends with my wicked sexuality.  I remember specifically thinking that I was less than human, and wishing desperately that I was dead, but hoping that if I were very, very good I might someday earn a rank among people again as one of them.  That's how much it was ingrained in me: I no longer thought I was human.


Loneliness was being 16, and finally coming unglued from all of this, and finding myself in a pediatric psychiatric unit for weeks.  It was years of college with almost no friends, sitting alone at most meals, and feeling like an alien landing on an unfamiliar planet as I wandered the halls and tried to adjust to classrooms, and a college atmosphere without having ever even gone to school.  It was being in a toxic dating relationship on and off for five years before marrying my high school boyfriend, and finding myself in another island of isolation-wearing a ring, and sharing an apartment, but somehow emotionally and mentally a million miles from the man I was sharing a bed and a life with.  Loneliness then became almost two years of standing on bridges, overdosing on prescriptions, and trips in the back of police cars and ambulances to hospitals.  It was weeks, and months of giving up, and staring at four white walls in the room of yet another psychiatric ward, and feeling in their unforgiving nothingness the absolute blankness of despair.  With all of those months came a fresh source of loneliness.  My mental illness was another secret; another thing to be deeply ashamed of.  It resulted in losing two jobs, getting divorced, moving back home, and even going on food stamps for a time from having no money while others in my peer group excelled at and pursued careers, and had successful marriages, and gave birth to babies.  The things that had always made people strangers to me were now magnified by my own fall.


And that brings me to the depression, and diagnosis of borderline personality disorder.  Living with depression is isolating and lonely just by its very nature.  There is a pervasive sadness, pessimism, lack of enjoyment, desire to withdraw, and inability to engage that is included in my depression.  Whether my self esteem issues are part of the depression, or part of the cause of the depression would be impossible to know.  Then there is this thing I have called Borderline Personality Disorder, which sounds slightly more important than bat-shit crazy, and scarier than just depression.  Depression-ok, lots of people have it, but this one throws people off.  One friend of my mom's asked me if this meant I had multiple personalities.  Here's a shortened explanation from the Mayo Clinic.org:
"With borderline personality disorder, you may have a severely distorted self-image and feel worthless and fundamentally flawed. Anger, impulsiveness and frequent mood swings may push others away, even though you may desire to have loving and lasting relationships."


So there it is.  Fear of abandonment, distrust of people, unstable relationships, and lack of sense of self are all symptoms.  All of which can contribute to loneliness, real or perceived.  With a combination of mental illness, challenges in my past, and whatever else stands in my way, the question becomes whether or not this can be overcome. With the very few exceptions of some friends  and family members, will the longing to connect in more meaningful relationships with others ever be satisfied, or even just the desire to feel like a normal, functioning part of society?  Returning to my metaphorical barrier, is there a way through, or is it definitively, and truly insurmountable?  Can I reframe my interactions, and perceptions, or is the lens I am looking through permanently scratched and distorted?  Dare I hope that someday I will reach a place where I can love myself, and look out in confidence, and then in return love someone else from that sturdier, more wholesome foundation?  Perhaps more importantly, can I reside in that space by myself and be ok with it, instead of hoping someone else will help fill that void?  In fact, I think that probably is the most vital piece: being ok without the validation of others, and having an inner peace that defies even lack of romance, friendships and social connections.  I do believe the need for human connected is real and valid as well, but not to live in fear for a lack of it, and to be ok in the solitude is also a beautiful thing.


I don't know how this turns out, because I haven't arrived there yet.  I can write pages about loneliness, and trying to speculate and work through some of its causes, but not a whole lot about the "cure", or maybe it is more of a journey, to recovery from Chronic Loneliness.  I can also only imagine what it feels like to live in a different reality without the consistent invasion of loneliness.  The bit of an optimist that does survive somewhere in me is hoping for and will not give up on working toward the best possible outcome.  I think part of the recovery is included in thinking the issue through, and challenging the beliefs and mindsets that are feeding it, including the low opinion I hold of myself, and the all too present past.  So be on notice, loneliness-your reign is limited!