Tag: alone

Guilt

There’s another lifelong result that goes along with being such a cold-hearted bastard about too many things: guilt.

At certain points in most people’s lives (regardless of how rough they’ve had it), you’ll have someone close around who genuinely cares and has a vested interest in you. But when you’re in my shoes, it won’t take long before you’re never appreciating it or treating them right.

In my case, there were two people. Well, just one actual person. But since many of us think of our pets as family, I’ll stick with that.

My maternal grandmother had one sibling: an older sister. I’ll just call her G here. G was in her early 60s when I was born and lived alone across the street from those grandparents. She was divorced and never had children, though I’ve never learned much of a reason why (because out of our immediate family on mom’s side, she’s only comfortable thinking or talking about my negatives or issues, which has always been fun). Anyway, I digress…..

While my grandmother was always there for me, it was G who had that extra energy and spark about having me around. She was “that” relative who spoiled you a little more and listened to you the most when you were a little kid. She was probably overcompensating for her loneliness and lack of own family, but that didn’t matter. Her actions were still real and heartfelt, and I still have fond memories of the little things we’d occasionally do, like walking up the street to get lunch and check out the latest video game (when those were the new big craze in the early ’80s) at the small local restaurant.

Before long though, G started to have crippling arthritis. And it wasn’t long before she was living in a nursing home, where her mostly lonely life played out until she passed away there in her late 70s.

During those years, all of us would have regular visits to see her (not as many as we should’ve, but still). And how did the then antsy teenage me handle them? I just saw them as a task that I wanted to get over with. She still had the same spark in her personality asking about me, but I just didn’t care. There was no compassion.

I know it showed, and I know it had to hurt her. Even though she never let on.

The other example was our family dog. I’d always wanted one, and this pup (call her “Y”) was my 11th birthday present. At the start, I still cared enough and appreciated her. But that didn’t last long. Like everything else (from about age 12 on, when my hurtful teenage years started), I was still distanced. And sometimes didn’t treat her as warmly as I should’ve. Despite how Y was a really good dog.

So when she passed away 17 years later, I felt practically no emotional response to it. Despite how I’ve always had such a soft spot for pets, I was, and always have been, hollowed out. Even about something like that.

What’s worse is that I never even felt very guilty about any of this until more recent years. I was aware of how my reactions to these things were at the time, but I’d never considered much just how heartlessly cold I was.

As you can tell, that has now changed. I look back with shame at how I treated them, and I wish there was a way I could apologize to them. But I can’t.

The only thing I can do is say it now: G and Y, I am really sorry. I only hope that I can take these lessons learned, and never let it happen again with anyone who would genuinely care so much about me. If I do ever have someone else in my life like that, how I treat them will be in honor of you.

You deserve that.

Those married forever, looking into each other’s eyes as you dance together in old age stories

I’ve written plenty about how I’m just not capable of having really close connections with people (including significant others). But I’ve never mentioned much about my parents and grandparents.

Let’s just say that unfortunately, they weren’t any better at it than I am.

My parents were married for 52 years until my father passed away five years ago. But despite how the marriage was always stable, they were only companions. The two of them were even less built for genuine love than I am, so there could be no actual connection (especially since they had nothing in common either). Not to mention how that was still an era when you simply married the first person you dated for awhile (and hadn’t found a reason to break up yet).

They never would’ve admitted that. Though you could argue that they were never self-aware enough to even consider it much to begin with. And it’s not like other problems didn’t come from it. Once she hit around 40, mom started harboring more depression and drinking more every evening. Which only got worse until dad died. Since then, the drinking hasn’t been quite as bad. Because while she doesn’t enjoy the new loneliness, subconsciously she prefers it to the unsaid discomfort of a constant attachment to a partner that you’re so emotionally distanced from.

As far as my grandparents, it was mostly similar. Married until death, but no substance behind it. Except for the addition of my paternal grandfather being a drunken wife abuser for many years (up until the drinking almost killed him one day in his 40s, which forced him to change). Definitely no storybook golden years.

And you know what’s sad? I never saw these connections in any of my parents’ closest friends (and their lifelong marriages) either. It was just never those couples who got lost in each other’s eyes, finished each other’s sentences with a bright smirk, or just laughed together w/ pure happiness at inside jokes in their own little world. So whenever there was a group function, it looked more like aging people having their first dates.

I know that it’s possible for two people to be genuinely in love. And I’m always really happy for a couple (the occasional times when I see it). But I’m telling ya, it’s very tough for many human beings to even be capable of, much less find.

Especially during the aforementioned dating constructs of prior generations. People often claim that their elders were “those” lucky couples, but I’ve found that they’re usually way too biased to see their family’s situations clearly, or that they delude themselves about the harsher reality that so many (like my parents and their friends) actually experienced.

So for the few reading this: I hope you beat the odds and actually do become one of those lucky ones. It’s a life joy that most of us will never experience.

Aging, turning 50, and vanishing life hope

In a few months, I will turn 50. At a time when my mindset has hit yet another new low. And this one is scarier than ever.

As the mid-life crisis continues to rage on, it’s easy to continue looking back at the troubled existence that I’ve usually had (and how the downhill trend has really accelerated in the last 15 years):

Age 20: Depression is starting to quickly form. The final stages of competitive spirit and possible happiness. But no lost hope.

Age 25: Loner lifestyle becoming established. A lot of unusually big ups and down for someone that age. Becoming clear that the depression is embedded pretty deep, despite the initial reason for its severity now being gone for good. Still hope.

Age 30: The height of career success and adult pride. Though still not mentally healthy enough. Odd amount of new anger appearing sometimes. Hope still not a problem. Despite much more lifetime success than failure at that point, a somewhat tenuous grasp on it.

Age 35: Success vanished. This time for longer than ever before, and therefore (for the first time) wondering if it can be regained. These first lingering failures starting to weigh on how you feel about yourself. Hope starts to become tarnished.

Age 40: Failure has become a staple. Not yet too bothered by loss of youth, but naturally aware of it beginning to happen. For the first time, no clear definition of career future either. Negatives about life situation are now easily outnumbering the positives like never before. Hope becoming shaky.

Age 45: At this point, the failure has lasted enough years that you’re very close to accepting it as your fate. Youth obviously completely gone (and having a tough time accepting it), so midlife crisis in full effect. Hope hanging on by a thread.

And now….almost 50: Failures have reached more damaging levels than ever expected. Some very useful 9 to 5 job experiences leading to possible new opportunities for awhile to salvage something about life, but being too unstable and miserable to take much advantage of it (especially since I’m still spoiled by all the years of supporting myself). Feeling like every year is aging you by a few.

But the worst part: for reasons I won’t elaborate on now (but have started to mention in recent entries), any hope of ever improving myself or my life is now mostly gone.

That’s what is so scary. Naturally without that hope, my depressive state could reach newly dangerous levels. I’ve always been able to function moderately with it, but now that might not last. It feels like something bigger may give at any point. And if it does, those new depths could lead to problems that’d be that much more drastic.

Regardless of the consequences, I don’t think I can stop this. So I just wait to see what happens.

And if I’ll be able to survive it. Literally and figuratively.

My world

My world is filled with darkness, unhappiness, loneliness, and failure.

My world goes back and forth between flailing, distant hope and accepting a permanently doomed fate.

My world is a constant reminder of how weak I am. And always have been in too many ways.

My world wishes for the young adult energy-filled type good time breaks from my hell (occasional dating, nights out, etc) that are now forever gone.

My world has a laundry list of long gone, lost opportunities (and an empty list of realistic future ones).

My world consists of living in the past as much as possible.

My world feeds off of escape from itself.

My world is spending most days not wanting to have this life, but also being too scared of dying.

My world has had a lot of emotional pain and issues for the last 37 of my 49 years. And a future of physical pain and issues beginning at this age.

My world waits for a useful answer to the “how can you start caring enough to change” question (that will never come).

My world is headed for a destitute, miserable ending years down the road.

My world is not one that I’d wish on anyone.

Invisible

Given how the first three years of college went, I did not expect an adult life of being such a loner. But even though my depression (that took hold late in my senior year) had a lot to do with that, it wasn’t how things began. 

Near the beginning of that year, it was time for my 21st birthday. And it’s naturally a tradition for your close friends to take you out and celebrate it.  I assumed that would be the case. It wasn’t. 

Despite these being the people that I’d been close with and hung out regularly for those first few years (and everything always being fine), all I got was one mention about it from my best friend. Saying how the first big exams were that week and “sorry”, but no plans. 

And I still can’t believe they did that.  It should’ve been obvious that regardless of any exams, you just work around it. Doesn’t have be ON your birthday; just go out sometime the weekend before (or the weekend after). Anything like that is fine. But you don’t dismiss someone’s 21st. Especially without a care.

I never said anything about it. Even as we all got together for his 21st about six weeks later. Go figure eh. But it was insulting. And I never forgot. 

Between that, my depression about to take hold, and weekend get togethers w/ them not being my style anymore (as they turned much more into corny married people-like nights rather than college students), I started becoming distanced from them as the year went on. 

And of course, that distance (not just from them, but from most people) became more and more pronounced once I got into the real world. By the time I was in my mid-20s, I knew that developing or maintaining close friendships would probably never happen again. 

So here I am today. Turning 50 this year.  And while I’m still not capable of meaningful bonds with people, I could really use some closer (and local) friends to help with turning my life around. Especially after having to move back east for my mother.

That was when I realized just how invisible I’ve really become.

At this stage in life, most of my past (and somewhat current) friends have their own families. Some for ages now. And most people, whether it be those friends or especially strangers, don’t even consider adding new people closely in their lives at this point. I mean it can happen occasionally if two married couples randomly meet on vacation or something (or through your kids), but not usually when it’s a single outsider.  

Sure those friends may answer or eventually reply/call if I say hi to catch up, but that’s just for an occasional fleeting half-hour or so. And since I’m not an important part of anyone’s life, I’m usually the one reaching out. So if I disappeared tomorrow, it wouldn’t affect anyone.

It’s also the same if I try to connect with anyone new on social media. It’s a totally different vibe from when I was in my 20s.  Most late 40ish people’s adult lives have simply long been complete by now. Even including the single ones. 

So….can only imagine what this will be like in my later years when the elder members of my family are all gone. Given how I’m fine about being a loner socially, I’ll handle it better than most. But it’s obviously going to make me even more unhealthy than I already am, and I admit that it’ll still hurt. 

It’s almost like being a ghost. Invisible. 

Christmas time is here

A word of warning: if you stumbled upon this entry (from the Christmas tag) and are looking for the usual joyous life stories and anecdotes about the season, then this is not for you.

In the midst of most other parts of life continuing to suffer, I’ve already begun hearing the seasonal music at the mall in the last week. Yesterday I took a few laps there to get some exercise, and it was an instant reminder of what was to come in the upcoming weeks.

Families. Holiday happiness and magic. Celebrating life. But all that did was have me fighting to stop tearing up right in public.

Why? Well, in recent years, I’ve thought more about how brutal the holidays will be for me down the road. No close family except my mother. Once she’s gone, then there won’t be anyone. Dad’s side of the family does live a few hours away. My uncle, aunt, and their families. But while we’ve always been on good terms, we’ve never been very close.

And with how I am, I don’t even want to be.

Anyway…..as Christmas approaches this year, I’ve found myself sinking into a new abyss about it. For the first time, it’s now representing all the sadness in my life. And everything I don’t have anymore (or never had), and likely won’t again. Now all I think about is the childhood Christmas joys of the past, the emptiness of the present (mom and I are just salvaging life at this point), and my future existence with the brutal loneliness of a totally forgotten person.

Sure I could attempt to make big life changes to prevent some of this. Start dating again or make attempts to bond with the rest of the family more. But I just feel like this is who I am, and that it’s the path I’m destined to take. At age 49 now, the lifelong adult depression and destructive habits and comfort zones seem too embedded in me to fight. You can’t just flip a switch and start changing into someone who genuinely welcomes companionship and happiness.

I wish I could.

Because that’s the thing. When I see those people at the mall with full lives this time of year, I don’t wish I was them.

My wish is that I wanted to be them.

Happiness in mediocrity and the curse of lost success

Next to me at work is a woman in her early 60s and about to retire permanently.

She is, by most accounts, the typical decent person. Friendly, kind of a tomboy, involved in a serious relationship, has a well-rounded overall life, and with job duties similar to mine.

Most people wouldn’t think much of that (because it sounds so ordinary). I, on the other hand, see her as someone who stands out more than most.

Why? Because she seems genuinely happy and content with herself and her life. I can hear it in her voice during the occasional business related phone calls that we have there.

And I admit that it makes me envious.

Here is someone who’s never done anything that would be considered extraordinary by more materialistic standards. Yet her life is the emotionally healthy one that most wish they could have.

I imagine that a main part of that contentedness is that she’s accomplished about all that she ever hoped to. And that’s where I think her life deviates the most from mine: while my potential likely has a higher ceiling than hers…..I, on the other hand, have failed so badly to hold on to my own accomplishments (or to ever get close to that stage again after all these years.)

Up until now, when it comes to “is it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” dilemma, I was always on the loved and lost side. But at this point, I’m not so sure.

Because at the moment, I know I’d be much better off if I didn’t want to live up to my past standards again. Especially since I’m the depressive type.

When you’re not emotionally healthy enough to handle losing your success, then it may be best just to never succeed much at all. And I so wish that wasn’t the case.

But I’m a living example of it.

“Are you excited?”

I was asked this (thankfully along with a couple other people) by the boss at my new job a few weeks ago.

A question that a depressed person never wants to hear.

Especially in that atmosphere. You then think: do you really want to know my answer to this?

Not like it was her fault. As mentioned in my last entry, no one there knows about my troubles. And even if they did, it’s understandable that she wants her team to be emotionally invested there. Especially since they want to build the department’s future around us.

But that enthusiastic “yes” ain’t happening. As any person in my boat knows, there isn’t much of anything in your life that could get that reply.

And as someone who is the furthest thing from a 9 to 5 worker, I’m that much further removed from caring. At some point, that might show. You’ll see most people at my level there (almost management) or above sometimes sport the company collared shirt. So eventually, it may be noticed that I never do.

Or that I don’t even own one. Or never will, unless my job would somehow depend on it for a function or whatever. Even the thought of putting one of those on makes me smirk derisively.

At this point, I probably sound like a terrible employee. Not the case, though. I will do what you ask me to, and do it accurately and efficiently. I won’t call off or cause issues with others. And even though I may be more apt to stretch my lunch a little or sneak in some personal time on my phone, you’ll still be able to count on me to be prepared for whatever comes my way in the office.

But is that cause I’m a company person and invested in how the organization does? No. It’s because it’s the right thing to do. If you pay me a good salary for my position and treat me well, you deserve that value in return.

Just don’t expect me to be “excited” about it.

Broken, part two

It’s been six weeks now since I started the latest phase of things.

The new job isn’t bad. At first it was a struggle to get my mind caught up to anywhere near the level of knowledge necessary (as I simply didn’t have the experience that was expected for this position). But I’m getting acclimated faster than those problems show, and the department has seemed focused since I started on building things for the future around us. The thought of me, or anyone else on the team, not being the right choice is the furthest thing from their mind.

So chances are I’ll be alright there going forward. And during that time, I’ve also found that there are better opportunities to make back some of my lost success too. At least in the short term. And while my financial situation isn’t close to where it should be, I still have the available capital to take advantage of those opportunities.

It wouldn’t nearly cover all the damage I’ve done over the last 15 years, but at least it’d be a start. And enough to matter.

Why the title of this entry then? Because of the latest setback. And this one hurt more than most. Here’s why.

In addition to the other positive factors just mentioned, I’d also tried to focus much more on eliminating a main trigger that causes my bouts of destructive behavior. And at first, there seemed to be improvement. Because the first couple times I had the frustrations that lead to such behavior, I’d been able to cut off the damage faster than I normally would.

At least it’s a first step, I thought. And hoped that I could continue that trend until I eliminated the behavior permanently, especially since I now had the necessary psychological frame of mind of realistic hope to significantly rebuild in the long run.

So for the first time in my adult life, it seemed like I might really have a chance to beat my main demon. Which would finally mean the highly elusive (and very questionable) goal of feeling good about myself and being successful again.

But then about a week ago, it happened again. When it didn’t need to. Out of the blue, you just don’t have the discipline this time to hold on. And the same degeneracy happens.

And as mentioned, this time it hurt that much more. Cause for once, I really thought: maybe I’m finally in a position to turn the corner and beat this.

Not to be.

Luckily it didn’t destroy my chances to pursue things going forward (naturally a big dent, but not a crushing blow). But it’s much more about what it signifies:

That I’m still not strong enough. And if I’m not now (with more going for my chances), then will I ever be?

Since then, I’ve spent the last week holding on. While a further collapse hasn’t happened yet, unfortunately it still feels like I’m stuck back in the same hopeless frame of mind about my discipline.

What next? I really don’t know. Just have to show up every day at the office Monday through Friday and act like nothing’s wrong. Everyone at work has no idea about my struggles.

If they only knew.

The next stage

After a year living in my “target” city, I’ve now moved back across the country again (to help out with family matters). Found an apartment and will get moved in this week. It’s 30 minutes from the family’s house, which is close enough to always be easily available and make this major relocation worth it….while still giving the space that I really need.

Everyone keeps telling me not to think back or torture myself about leaving my old place again. But obviously that’s much easier said than done. At age 47, every year spent away from “home” is going to feel like one that I can’t afford to lose. And it could be many years before I can go back for good.

I’ll try to help my state of mind by making one or two long trips back per year. It won’t be nearly the same, but at least that will make the transition easier.

Still though….I’m concerned about how I’m going to react to this in the long run. It hasn’t hit me completely yet, but it will once I get completely settled in to the new apartment. A depressed person with little structure in life (living in an area that has too many toxic components) isn’t exactly in the best spot to improve and enjoy his situation.

So I’m not sure if I will be able to make the most of this. Or even avoid a much worse downward spiral.

Guess I’ll find out soon enough.