Struggling in All Good Things

Sometimes I think I’m not recovering at all. Sometimes I worry I’m getting worse.

Since I quit travelling nine months ago, I struggle to go anywhere but work. For these Easter holidays I promised myself I’d leave the house at least once every day - and I haven’t managed that today or yesterday. It’s not even like I’m using this free time productively. I can’t settle to anything, can’t concentrate. Spend most of my time trying not to be overwhelmed by the desire to just…not…be.

This past week I was supposed to spend with all my friends. I couldn’t. Because of two women who hate me and one man who loves me, I couldn’t face it. It hurt too much to go. I know he won’t undersand. The last time I saw him I promised I’d be there....but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see him anymore. I very well might not see him again for the rest of my life.

I’m not dealing very well with that.

But it’s not just that. Who am I without travel? Without my gallivanting-around-the-world lifestyle? Without hotels and beaches and airports and suitcases and tropical air and mountains and adventure? And who am I without my community of friends, who I’ve abandoned because I’ll never really belong there, and if I can’t truly be a part of them then it hurts to much to be on the edges…?

I feel lost and broken and constantly sad. It’s such a familiar refrain I’m sick of it.

Since I can’t seem to cope with going out and being around people right now, I’ve made new friends online, found a whole new community based around a passionate interest in common, and they’re all that’s keeping me going, to be honest. I can’t let myself think about anything else because I just dissolve into a mess of anxiety and desolation. But they give me something to focus on and people to talk to and interact with, and a lot more of a life than I’d have otherwise.

Those posts people (no doubt extroverts) make about the evils of social media and how we need to put away our phones because they’re keeping us from ‘real’, ‘meaningful’ communication with other human beings really annoy me. My youth would have been a lot easier to endure had I been able to seek refuge in online communities then instead of being so horribly lonely, seeking refuge solely inside my own head. I owe most of my most meaningful adult relationships to the internet, and while I’ve ended up meeting a lot of online friends in person in the end, there are many I’ve only ever known online and are no less treasured for that.

I want to start writing here again. I never know what to say these days other than: I’m sad, I’m miserable, I don’t want to be alive because I just don’t care anymore.....

I have fun still. Laugh whenever I can. Do meet friends on occasion and revel in hugs and closeness. Actually enjoy my current long-term job more often than not (although that’s likely to change in July). But I remember when I used to burn with the passion to go out and experience life and do things and achieve things and I wanted to see everything and do everything - and I WANTED. I don’t want, anymore.

This is how I felt for the year after Jordan died. Then Jon came along and woke me up and sparked me back to life. Now that he’s the one who’s dead, I’m really struggling.