I need to keep this short as I really need to sleep and it’s already after 1am.
I’ve had a weird few days, a weird week in fact, of feeling displaced or somehow resistant to gravity – I’m trying desperately to screw myself to the sticking place but the earth’s elements seem to be working against me and I’m hovering above an illusionary image of myself featuring me as I should be: anchored to the ground.
I don’t know if it’s caused by a build up to the RCC (which was yesterday and I was dreading it, as usual) or something else. I think I feel removed from everything because I have this feeling that something is going to happen, that I’m on the periphery of some great unknown change. I feel like everything is rearranging itself inside me in preparation for a guest, I’m just not sure if it’s a visitor I’ll welcome or not.
I’ve noticed through the sessions at the RCC that I tend to describe my emotions and thoughts in metaphors and I apologise for that: I never deliberately try to be literary in my explanations of my mental health, it’s just that feelings are real physical sensations and I have to compare them to something. Also I’m an English teacher and we do have a tendency towards the poetic.
I hate that I’m still waiting for something to happen while clawing in to some crumbling chunk of earth before I fall off this cliff.
Nobody is going to save me. There’s nobody knocking at the door; there is nobody to make me tea; there is nobody with open arms.
Not that I need saving.
I’m not belittling what support family and friends have given or underestimating how difficult I have been and still can be, but the truth is, I’m lonely. That’s a really shitty thing to admit, but I am. It’s not that I want people calling in all the time or that I want a new husband to share everything with (Jesus, no) but I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about what it would be like to have a bigger family or to have friends who didn’t all have young kids and full time jobs. This is what happens when the family in the States Facetimes: I start pining.
Loneliness makes you do strange things, like answer yourself in your dog’s voice and contact exes you shouldn’t. It makes you say stupid things, exposing your best kept hidden feelings and it makes you think that maybe being lonely is safer than opening up your heart to someone who’s just going to cast it aside into the damaged goods reject pile anyway.
Whatever about me, please look in on someone who you think might be lonely at this time of year which, clichéd as it might sound, is an extraordinarily isolated season for those who don’t live in an O2 ad (I can’t bring myself to watch the John Lewis contribution to festive sentimentality just yet). Older people in particular might benefit from an hour of your time. I think of my Nana and I would hate for her to have nobody to watch an old episode of Catchphrase with or light the fire for her.
If you are feeling broken like the one faulty bulb among the ever growing universe of commercial Christmas lights; if the sound of carols cracks your tinny heart or if you are manipulated by the exclusive advertising agencies of large multinationals into thinking that there must be something wrong with you, and only you, because you aren’t stirred by the magic of the season, then please reach out to someone who isn’t smugly planning their multiple Christmas parties and corresponding frocks.
Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Christmas and I’m not trying to go Grinch. I’m just asking you to remember that the other “L” word gets a whole lot more potent once December (who I am kidding, the madness starts in November these days) rolls into town.