Partner. in Phoenix

That’s all I’ve ever really wanted, you know? That one person I could always count on to have my back when I really needed them. Someone to learn and grow with, and grow old with.

I just don’t think that’s in the cards for me.

You know, I was having a fantastic day. Then I got off work and came home and… well, it kind of hit me like a truckload of rocks being dumped on my head. What’s the point of coming home? Oh, no, that’s not right. I mean, obviously, my kids are here, I have to come home. But… my older son is leaving for college in August and I have 7 years left with the little one before he’ll leave, too.

Oh, I’m trying so hard not to “woe is me.” This is actually an old feeling, maybe just a leftover from the old me. Maybe it will pass like most of the other old bad feelings have passed.

There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. Right now, I’m just both. And it doesn’t matter that I can’t see that ever changing. I have no way of seeing the future or what it will bring. But, right now, it feels like nothing. Like, oh, yay, I get to go to work every day and come home and be alone until I die. Hooray.

The vast majority of the time, I’m perfectly okay with being alone. I don’t feel lonely at all. I have a pretty fantastic life full of truly amazing people who make me feel loved, respected, and appreciated. And I feel those things the majority of the time. But sometimes, once in awhile, like today… I’m alone and I’m lonely and it’s crushing me and I’m having an anxiety attack an hour after taking my medication. It’s the first attack I’ve had in quite awhile. I mostly live day to day without any anxiety, but the attacks still come now and then.

Anxiety attacks don’t come alone, you know. They bring all the bad feelings with them, all the insecurities and a good helping of self-loathing. The anxiety brings the negative self-talk. The anxiety says, “Don’t you dare share these feelings with anyone because they’ll just be annoyed and wish you’d shut up.” It says, “Hold all the bad shit inside because you deserve to feel all the bad shit. No one else should have to deal with it. It’s not fair to bring others down with your whining and self-pity.”

It doesn’t feel like self-pity, it really doesn’t. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I mostly feel sorry for anyone who has to come into contact with me because maybe I’m really just a miserable person and all I’m capable of is bringing people down.

Yes, I know that isn’t true. I know I don’t just bring people down. I know I rarely bring people down. I’m downright sunshiny. Wherever I go, people are smiling at me, hugging me, being happy to see me.

It’s me. I’m the one who is not happy to see me. I’m the one who can’t accept that maybe, just maybe, I’m not a horrible rotten person who doesn’t deserve love. It’s this argument that I have with myself that makes me want to isolate the fuck out of myself. It makes me want to cut off the entire world and crawl in a hole and die. Because no matter what I know to be true, my brain will always argue it, tell me I’m garbage, tell me I’m annoying and a burden and over-emotional and… not worthy. It’s really hard some days not to listen to that.

It’s the hardest on days like today. Because I’m lonely, my brain pounces and says, “Of course you’re lonely, everybody leaves you. Always have and always will. You’re not worth sticking around for. No life partner for you! Loser!”

Last updated October 30, 2019