Sometimes I’m painfully aware of the fact that my illnesses have allowed me to alienate myself from others.
From friends. I’ve lost more than a few friends because I’ve shut them out, or stopped going to invites, or just plain stopped being interesting enough
I’ve lost a lot of opportunities to live the life I’ve wanted, either out of fear, or just plain inability to function and think correctly.
Sometimes I see my friends having meaningful relationships - being goofy with other friends, living in apartments and going through their 20s together in wacky adventures like some trite television show and I can’t help but wonder what is so wrong with me that I have to be so lonely. But it’s not just loneliness - it’s the want to want to be involved. I feel so dead and zombie-like, I don’t feel anything at all. And that doesn’t make for good jokey-times or deep introspective conversations.
I’m happy for my friends that have meaningful friendships and romantic relationships. My best friend is married, and they’re living a great life together. But sometimes I wish I had somebody who I could go out with on a Saturday night. Or have goofy in-jokes with. Or who I could just be myself around, even if being myself means being quiet and sitting quietly. I’m so, so happy for the people in my life who have people they can joke with and laugh with and love life with and cry with, but I just can’t seem to make those connections from my end.
And I just don’t know where I went wrong.
This is the kind of stuff that keeps me awake at night, and makes me really start to pull.