A (sometimes) lonely response

My last post has resulted in a flurry of commentary here and elsewhere, and an identification with the isolation that comes with watching your friends settle and move into family lives, when what you know is the same old routine that has existed for too long but with fewer people available to help fill the gaps as child rearing or marital lives take over.


All I know is that my happiness can only come from me, no one else is going to 'fix' that. It is my responsibility. However, it's sometimes like wading through mud and a friendly face at the end of the day would go a long way to relieving that.

As I lurch from one failed dating attempt to another, I'm glad I'm still trying despite the frustration and sadness that sometimes rears its head in posts like my last. I also know that the things in life worth having are worth fighting for, working hard for, taking risks for....even if they don't work out.

Sometimes, I also know I need to stop trying. Stand still and look after me. The rest will come.

Living alone is a huge privilege but it can also be hard going. I know I have good friends, and a family who care, but sometimes 'lonely' happens anyway, and can swiftly morph into 'unloved' and consequently 'unloveable'. A quick google search produced this on page 1 of 'lonely'. Some honest words on a subject few people ever discuss.Emily White: Lonely

Unloved

Sometimes I think I'm just meant to be on my own. It just seems that nothing ever quite fits when it comes to men.

Dad dying has brought how lonely I am into sharp focus. I am no-one's priority, and it makes me very sad.

Tonight I found myslef ouring a glass of wine, lighting my first cigarette in two days and browsing an online dating site where I dabbled a while ago. Then I started crying.

I keep trying, I keep letting myself be open to the potential and hurt. Time and time it just comes to nothing, and I wonder if I'm at a point where I should just accept that perhaps this is the way my life is meant to be. I am not sure I've got the energy to keep trying.

I appreciate that this may all sound very self indulgent and self pitying, but I just don't know how to play this particular game. Perhaps I am simply unlovable.

Even though it is mid summer, I put the heating on. I need sometimes to wrap myself in warmth when there is noone to hold me.

I question whether I should press 'publish' on this rambling. But, right now it's how I feel and this what this space was created for.....I may delete later when I decide that I shouldn't be so damned wallowing.....

We carry on

I am waiting for the phone to ring and for my sister to tell me he is gone.


I hate leaving him. I hate leaving him, so dosey on morphine now delivered intravenously because he struggling to swallow the pills. I hate leaving him alone with his music and the kind nursing staff.

Mum doesn't seem to want to stay beyond him falling asleep. She is trying to keep hold of the remnants of 'normal'.

Weeks have become days, and days will become hours.

I feel guilty for not being at his side, but must follow Mum's lead. She is is the person who we now need to travel along with. We'll do whatever is right for her as she loses the love of her life.

We have said our 'I love you's and goodbyes.

I hope he knows we are with in thought even when were are not present. I don't know what he knows of it all.

It is so very lonely for all of us. We can't reach the person we are so desparate not to lose.

I know that in years to come I will read these pages and weep. Today, I just want someone to hold me. Does he too?

I feel guilty leaving him there, but the time for vigil will come. Until then there is work to be done, and dishes to be washed, and tears to be shed so that when we are there gentleness and smiles are what he hears.

Decisions, decisions....

I'm just back after a lovely week or so of a conference, visiting friends and another wedding – the second in two weeks. I've also just agreed to a week's holiday for a friend's 40th and I am number 13, the only single person.


What do all of these have in common – I was the token single girl in amongst a multitude of couples. It stings a bit. Not because I am unhappy or jealous but because as others bring their plotting and planning to the table, I only have my voice. Being the minority isn't much fun.

There's a trip afoot for Hogmanay to a tiny Scottish island off the west coast. I'd love to feel the bitter cold sea air on my face and walk the island's paths and hills.

But, there's a but.

The group is, once again, made up of couples and the token gay man – too I become the gay man's substitute partner at social occasions. I love these people, they are my friends but I don't love an unmixed group.

It makes me feel lonely.

As others turn to kiss each other and welcome in another year, I will wait in line until someone remembers I am there.

Of course, I can host another party here at home or be amongst different friends. I wish I didn't have to decide now. A deadline is looming.

If don't go I know I will be sad to miss it. If I do, I know I will be sad that there is no one to kiss me a happy new year. I know I'd be fine. Feeling left out, no matter how unintentionally on the part of others or self indulgently on my part, is never much fun.

Invasion

Mouse, well probably mice, have invaded my drawer of baking and dried goods (like noodles, flour, sugar and spices bought in bulk- useful store cupboard things I've built up over a long period and will resent replacing!). I am p***ed off and fearful in equal measure! I know the mouse/mice are probably more scared of me than I am of them. I've had lots of helpful advice from friends, which is greatly appreciated, but I'm struggling to put it into action.

I hate that my house has been invaded. Spiders are bad enough, but mice? Not good.

Mostly, I'm quite content living on my own. I manage to do most things by myself. I can paint rooms, hang curtains and have my own electric drill but occasionally I hate it. This is most definitely one of those occasions.

Did I bring a creature home with me from my camping trip, or is there a wee hole somewhere and the colder nights have tempted them into my warm home? I'm just hoping and praying its just a cunning visitor, not a whole family....argh!

There is a single drawer where packets have been chewed through and a drawer of plastic storage containers that shows evidence that they've passed through there too. I've washed out most of the plastic containers and will finish the rest tomorrow but I just haven't quite rustled up the courage to tackle the drawer. I suspect wellies and rubber gloves may be required for me to take the next step.

I cope with so much, and survive well enough on my own. But sometimes I resent it. Sometimes, often, it just makes me sad. Sometimes, I just want someone else to say it'll be ok. Sometimes, I am lonely.

Mostly, I am ok.

Today I just want someone, anyone, to help me be braver and who'll check the drawer has no residents before I chuck everything out. Instead I'm feeling like a ridiculously daft girl who's procrastinating about something that just needs dealt with.

I want my house back.