Right, I’ve got a confession to make, I’ve been a bit naughty. So you know how I’m this self-proclaimed “positivity blogger” and life is fucking amazing and we should all be grateful for every second, even the shit times? Well, that’s not all true. Not right now anyway. Life isn’t always amazing and sometimes I want the shit times to just fuck right off.
I went to the seaside for bank holiday weekend with my sister and my two nieces. The weather was amazing, I got tan lines and swam in the sea. For the end of summer in notoriously rainy Blighty, that was an out and out win. I did have a lovely time, don’t get me wrong, what’s not to love about ice cream and sand between your toes? I posted photos on my blog and personal Instagram accounts of what a great time we were having but what I didn’t post was the meltdown I had where I sobbed and snotted on my sister’s shoulder. In fact, I haven’t posted about the last 4 meltdowns I’ve had. Why is that? Why am I so quick to tell everyone about what I’ve come through and not so quick to explain what I’m going through? Well, I guess I’m just human after all. No one really wants to admit when things are difficult.
I’m not even really that sure what I’m miserable about. On paper, life is perfect. I have a decent job, my own house and car, no debts (except my mortgage), I travel the world, I write, I volunteer, I have amazing friends and family, I can do what I want when I want, with whom I want. I have so many things to be grateful for. I literally feel like a brat for even writing this post. That’s the thing about mental ill health, there is no rhyme and reason to it.
The main thing I can think of which is causing this melancholy is loneliness.
I just deleted that line twice. Literally admitting I feel lonely is giving me anxiety, like I’m the biggest loser ever. I’m 34, how can I be lonely? No one my age is lonely. Loneliness is only a thing for old people, right? I guess not if I feel it.
I’ve lived alone for 3 years in a town I didn’t go to school/college in. I have no family here and just a couple of good friends in the town who I hardly see because I travel for work so much. The rest of my friends are spread across the UK and abroad. 95% of them are married with children and I’m single so I travel alone, I come home to an empty house, I eat dinner alone, I watch TV alone, I wake up alone (well….not always, wink wink!)
A lot of my time is spent in my own head. One of my married-with-two-kids friends commented on how she wants my life, like it’s somehow easier or better than hers. It probably is easier to some extent, I can’t imagine how hard being a Mum is, but it’s not easier in a lot of ways. When I have bad news, I have no one to give me a hug and tell me it’ll be ok. When I have a problem, I have no one to talk it out with. When I’m sat in a hotel room in Norwich on a Thursday evening, bored out of my brain, I have no one to laugh with about how scabby the room is. Yes, I could pick up the phone but it’s not the same as an actual human being there. And this isn’t about having a partner or not, this is just general social isolation.
***Takes a little break to demolish bag of popcorn in hopes of immediate cure***
Right, so moany self-pity part done, I guess I should talk about how to fix the problem before I well and truly lose my positivity label. Well, writing this post has helped. Acknowledging and working through to the realization of loneliness as “a thing” is a good start. The next thing is to probably leave the house seeing as I’ve been on my own all day. Ugh, can’t be bothered to do that. After that, I’m not sure and actually, that’s ok.