Alone

I've just been scrolling through the blogs I read. Or used to read.

I deleted some of them. Stopped following them. Because they are going to a place where I don't go.

:::

I feel more alone these days. I feel that there are less people listening. That there are less people who care.

I know that there are people who remember my children. And I love that. But it's very abstract. It's not real in my life.

I miss having people in my life who care. Who care about me and what I do. Craig is there, and he cares, but he's the only one.

An example. On Monday it was Freyja's birthday. Her fifth. My parents sent us flowers. My sister rang. An aunt and uncle (for inexplicable reasons) suddenly sent a card.

A friend who has not been in touch with me since Kees' funeral sent a text message. Her reason? She's coming to Amsterdam in September and would like to "catch up".

I dislike it. I dislike it when people who haven't been there for the tough times, suddenly drop a note out of the sky, because they want to catch up. And (guaranteed) once they've had their catch up, they'll go back to their little world and I won't hear from them again for however many years.

It annoys the shit out of me.

:::

When I'm with other people, I'm pretending most of the time. Pretending that my life is ok. Pretending that I'm not sad. Pretending that I'm not angry. Pretending that I have a future. Really, I'm pretending all these things. Because in reality I am sad, my life is not ok (how could it be?), I am angry, and I don't see that I have a future.

So why am I pretending? Because no-one wants to know any of this stuff.

I never noticed this when I was a single person. Maybe because I was always accommodating my life to fit into others' lives.

But now I see that actually others have their own life, and they certainly don't do anything to accommodate me into it. In fact, most people have closed their lives to me. I don't fit in any more, so they have moved on without me.

Which leaves me back where I started. Alone.

:::

When I speak to my parents on the phone, it's all just jibber-jabber (love that phrase). Because I know that they only hear what they want. They forget what I actually jibber-jabbered to them about. They regurgitate what they wanted to hear from me to their friends. To tell them that I'm ok. When I'm so obviously not.

It makes me angry. That no-one wants to hear the real stuff. They only want the fluffy stuff. And if there is no fluffy stuff, they just embroider reality to make it fluffy.

I talk to people about (i) my cats, (ii) any trips or holidays we have planned, and (iii) the weather. Anything else they talk about I just let flow over me. Like politics, religion, the fate of asylum seekers and refugees, my mental health and their advice. I don't talk about that. I don't encourage talk about it. I just make "mmm" noises at appropriate times, and that seems enough for people. Because if I do talk about those things, they will disagree with what I say, and it will be an opportunity for them to shoot me down. So I don't give them the chance. Anyway, the cats and the weather is usually enough.

:::

I forgot what I was writing about.

Oh yes, alone-ness.

It's different from loneliness. I'm not lonely. I have Craig.

But I do feel alone. When I walk on the street, surrounded by hundreds of people, I feel alone. In fact, the sheer numbers of people who surround me, make me feel more alone.

All those families, those mums with babies, those dads with Baby Bjorn's strapped to them, they make me feel alone.

I live in one of the most densely populated spots on the planet, and yet I feel alone. How strange is that?

:::

I wish there were people here who understand me. I wish there were people around me who didn't think I was "strange". I wish there were people here who could shepherd me towards a future I wouldn't be scared of.

I wish for so many things. But they are wistful wishes.

Nowadays I really have only one wish. A child. Our child. Who lives. A long and healthy life.

That is my wish.

Maybe I would be less alone then. Maybe I would be less "strange". Maybe then I could see a future.