Living alone is painful.

me

I have lived alone for the majority of the time I have been out of university, around 8 years. I once lived with a friend for a while in Hong Kong and with a guy whilst I rented out a room in his house.

I thought I was good at it. I’d hear people talking about their partner going away for a night or two and how they wouldn’t be able to stay at home alone. Now, I’m not that bad, but I am beginning to realise just how much living alone effects me.

My partner and I have just come back from a holiday away as well as a few weeks when we were both off work. During this time he lived here with me in my apartment. Things had a purpose. I washed up because we needed new dishes, I tidied so we could eat or work or play uno. He also picked up the pieces if I felt ill or tired and vice versa.

After a week of constant contact, he returned home, about an hour away. As soon as he left, my body seemed to stop functioning. I lay on my bed being inhaled by social media and by the time he’d got back I hadn’t moved. The last few days have mirrored this. I’ve begun to tell him that life doesn’t make sense without him. This hurts my sense of independence.

I have always been able to get on with life and have never needed someone by my side to do anything. I’ve travelled alone, flown alone long haul and moved to a new country. As I think more, I realise that the same thing has been happening for a while now. If I have something to do, I’ll be able to function, go along have a laugh, but I return home and life stops again. I’ve spent holidays sleeping through days and finding myself unable to cope with my own space. I used to sleep through weekends, fuelled by my hectic schedule, but it was more than that. I knew I needed time off work, but when I had it, I couldn’t find the energy to do the things I had wanted to, alone. I would return to work unable to properly explain what I’d done in the last 7 days and it made me so sad.

It’s true if my schedule is full, this becomes easier as I fill in the gaps with housework, errands and cooking. Having another person with me means the world makes a lot more sense. Whenever he’s here I find myself ‘pottering’, going around the apartment and sorting little things I hadn’t before, almost wasting my time with him.

Thinking about it, life has never made sense without someone. For years I have longed for a companion. I have found friends who I’d spend long periods of time with, go to events with and do the things you’d do with a partner as two singles who want to just bloody go to that fun new activity. Everyone I sought this friendship with grew wary of my presence. There’s always been remarks about how we’re ‘spending a lot of time together’ and how there ‘must be something else going on’. It’s unfair really, to assume things like that of people. It was most likely too much for them to handle, after all I needed someone to be there for me. No one was invested in keeping me sane!

I don’t think it’s to do with my partner that I say these things to him. I am independent with and without him and I know a lot about the world, but my mental health is poor and being alone has really stirred that up.

I always seem to write on here just before an ‘episode’ where I’ll have a period of depression or a worsening of my anxiety. Perhaps that’s also what drives the feeling of loss I suffer when people leave. I can get upset very easily at the thought of him not being here. It does show however that I truly believe him to be worthy of companion status, perhaps a little more than that and it’s been so wonderful to have someone who finally has wanted to take on that role, without shame or question. I’ve found a good egg. I still find myself trying not to put all my problems and emotions onto him though. I’ve learnt that it’s best to share it around with friends and family too. It gives each person a chance to have their own life too as such. The next time you talk to them after a small break, they’re ready to listen again.

Living alone is still shit though.

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Messy Bed.

messy-bed

Source: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/250723904225104172/ 

I saw an article this week, about a woman suffering with depression who, when it gets bad can’t bare to tidy or clean or care about herself. It’s something so many of us go through though we hesitate to mention it through fear that someone will call us dirty, it’s more than likely happened before.

Yes people can be messy, I can be terrible, but if I’m in the right state of mind, you can see the difference in my surroundings. When I was in Hong Kong I wrote a poem in an attempt to write down my feelings about this exact subject and then I never posted it, perhaps in fear of judgement. I want it to now compliment the article I saw and support those who feel they lose control of their surroundings when things get dark.

No matter who we are, sometimes we just become overwhelmed.

 

The Girl

The girl who has the world upon her shoulders,

everyday she cannot help but feel the strain,

She sits alone between the dishes unwashed,

the floors unswept and the washing pile rising.

As she walks across the room she is followed

by the cats who gave her love when none would.

She dreams of all the dreams that could have happened,

all the thoughts that filled her mind with such bliss.

All the destinations, unmade plans and expectations

A distant memory from the days when she was young.

She naps each day to fill the time between the known,

The unknown rearing it’s head like an almighty beast.

Her bed has become her eternal fortress

A habitat of white sheets and the smell of home.

As she lies she moves her eyes towards the window,

hearing the bird sing and the children shout.

One day it won’t be like this she wishes to herself

one day it will different but for now

life goes on.

 

The article: http://aplus.com/a/depression-sufferers-bedroom-pics 

 

Alone

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I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and it’s by no means something I haven’t spoken about before.

I sit here at my table, full of pots and pans that haven’t been washed, across from a sofa that hasn’t been tidied and a load of washing ready to go to be washed. This is what happens when i’m alone. I don’t respect my own personal space. I have no regard for what issues it may cause for me, if I’ll trip up, not have a dish to eat my dinner from or struggle to find something I needed when running late in the morning.

I’m so sick of living alone, but I know i’d struggle to live with someone else if it wasn’t Mel, a friend I lived with before my move to Hong Kong. We shared a bed for 6 months after I lost my job and moved to a studio apartment. There’s no one else I could be myself around like that.

I don’t know what people do when they’re alone. I long all day to be back home and then I get here and sit on Facebook, barely feed myself and go to bed. When you’re alone, you sleep, lots, almost too much that you feel you’re just wasting you life as it rushes past you in a series of naps. But there’s nothing else to do.

At 21 my passion became my full time career and I’ve never been able to replace it. I could sit in the middle of the Praya and feel alone. With all the people jogging past me, doing their Tai Chi and sitting people watching.

It feels like there’s supposed to be a part of my life when I’m supposed to be alone. To be free of a boyfriend or child to take care of.I remember a colleague of mine saying “You’re so lucky you live on your own, I can’t get away anymore, all I want to do is sit alone and read a book”. This plan however, as I see it is highly achievable, have someone watch the baby put on the kettle and take a bath. But what happens when you’re done being alone? You go back to your unlonely days. I can’t sort out this situation, except to not be alone and for me, that’s just not possible right now.

My dream? To have someone that loves me. I’d say children, but I’m not greedy, I need that special someone to scoop me up first and make me feel like my life has some purpose, something to live for, something to come home to. I just don’t feel like it’s an achievable goal.

 

The Meltdown.

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This time last week I was in bed exhausted after overdoing it at work. Here I am one week later and at the end ( I hope ) of a major meltdown.

It started last week after an intense period of rehearsals and getting everything ready for a huge meeting I was hosting with the freelance staff. I had stayed at work until 10pm one evening and worked from early in the morning. I was crashing, hard. On Sunday, I woke up thinking I’d be ok but as soon as I woke up, I didn’t want to move, I stayed in the same position for hours until I got up to go to the bathroom. Only then did I realise my viral labyrinthitis had been set off. Due to stress at an earlier time in my career the virus tends to rear it’s head at different stages of my life and throughout the day it got worse and worse.

I had begun this week also, to fill in my first job application and the journey I was starting on began to become more real. I also had a performance with a call time of 7.30am when I worked through until 6pm. It just all began to get on top of me. My mood changed, my sleeping habits changed and on Friday I couldn’t even concentrate enough to work and asked to leave and go home.

Friday night wasn’t too good. I have a colleague at work that, though she bought me over to Hong Kong to work for the company, she seems to want to find my negative flaws and air them out like her own dirty laundry. Within this week alone she’s pulled up my mistakes in from of my General Manager and at the end of this terrible day, sent me messages telling me I was doing my job wrong. No, she’s not my manager and yes, we work ‘together’ we’re on the same team and she doesn’t seem to want to work alongside me.

With her final message to me, it sent me over the edge. I bawled. I was almost inconsolable, I found myself pacing the flat trying to get this hate and anger out of me, but it was no use. I knew I wouldn’t be able to survive my day of work the next day, I work with young people through process drama and I just couldn’t face it. I text my boss to see if he was free and then, he rang me. I was in mid stream and full blown panic attack and I picked up the phone. I wasn’t thinking and I really shouldn’t have done it. My boss is a good one though, he heard what was happening to me and even offered to travel the hour and a half journey to see that I was alright, though I couldn’t let him.

Finally we both got in touch with my friend Lisa and she came over to calm me down. At this stage it would have taken hours if someone else wasn’t here to see me through it.

I am so thankful for having such supportive management, but I know in the next few days conversations will have to be had about all of this.

It’s now Saturday and today is the first day I’ve started to feel normal again. I just hope this is a one off. It’s the only time I’ve ever been like that when on my medication. It scared me, but I just have to keep looking forward and think of all the change ahead of me.

Listen only to the ones who matter.

Anger

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Part of my anxiety is another side of me, a while away from positive self I’d like to be. I have suffered from depression in my life but the thing that runs in the family is anger.

Ever since I was small, my parents have had huge rows. Rows that are constantly ongoing. From experiencing this throughout my childhood, it was a shock for me at university to realise you could resolve your problems without shouting at someone. I like to pride myself in staying calm and that discussion is the way forward instead.

I don’t shout ever really, maybe I should just to let out some tension! But it seems if I try to hold in my anxiety it ends in me becoming more and more angry, until it hurts. I harp on about it all the time but living by yourself, it’s hard to release tension as you don’t have someone to share your insecurities with. This in turn builds up inside me.

I hate it. It reminds me of my Dad, forever a man who can’t forget his past and who gets angry for fun, or just because it’s a part of his life. It always has been while I’ve been around.

I never want to get angry with my children, I want to teach them to be honest and able to mediate well. I just fear that I won’t be able to accomplish that myself. Now my friend is moving to live with me, I hope that a lot of this kind of thing will ease but it’s never easy to go through a period of time when you feel so angry and become even more angry that you feel this way. I just get stuck in my head sometimes, on the words someone said flippantly today or the deep meaning behind the person the bus’ fleeting glance.

 

Anger is often a mutation of my own insecurities being put onto others.