Lonely

I am lonely.

That's nothing new for someone with depression, the sense of being alone. In many ways I'm lucky; I have a loving husband and two wonderful children who keep me occupied. I love them, they love me. I'm lucky. But like so many sufferers, I can feel alone even in a crowded room.

When I'm empty, I believe no one can possibly understand the hollow feeling in my chest. No one (except my children) can get close to me because I'm so closed off. When I'm anxious, I can't explain the panic I feel from simply being close to other people, or from being surrounded by raised voices - even voices raised to joke or express joy, rather than anger or hate. I feel alone, because I can't put my emotions into words.

I should be able to explain. I write novels. I'm told I write emotive novels. But when it comes to my own feelings, it's not so easy.

A lot of the time, I'm not sure I want to put what I feel into words anyway. People, family, have turned from me before because of what I feel and I'm scared that if my remaining friends see the true me, the broken me, they'll leave too. It would be justified. They should leave me before I hurt them or hold them back just by being me. So I hide. I distance myself. I slip off the radar before I can be found out and cause distress to myself and them.

Unfortunately, I become more lonely because of my retreat, my self-imposed seclusion. Worse, though, I know I probably hurt my friends by pulling away. Perhaps they think I don't care enough to visit or pick up the phone. Perhaps they think I'm being selfish or that I've abandoned them.

Those fears reinforce my self-hatred as guilt runs riot in my head. I hurt people. I don't deserve people. I know hose around me deserve better than I can offer, yet I want to have friends. I want to feel close to people.

I think that's why I'm lonely, the conflict between craving and fearing proximity. I crave closeness but dread both abandonment and causing my loved ones to hurt.

I guess it's natural for lonely people to reach out to others in times of crisis. but that's become circular for me. It's a cycle I can't break.

Push away. Pull close. Push away. Pull close.

Classic borderline, I guess, on top of the never ending depression - the depression I can't remember being without. I know I'm difficult to understand. A lot of the time I don't understand myself.

I do have a message though, to my friends: I love you. I love you so very much that it hurts. I'm terrified of losing you and terrified of hurting you, and I hate myself because I'll probably do both. Experience has taught me that's just what I do. I'm just a horrible person. I must be, for my peers to hate me as much as they did throughout my childhood, and for others to tell me they didn't want me or to decide I'm not worth their time. You're better off without me, but believe me when I say I love you, I'm sorry, and I want nothing but the best for you.

I love you.

Pseudonymous Zombie
xxx