Sometimes, It Hurts More Than It Should

by Band Back Together | Dec 20, 2018 | Coping With Depression, Depression, Feelings, Loneliness, Major Depressive Disorder, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Mental Health, Sadness | 12 comments

I’m lonely.

I’m really lonely.

Yet I’m married, have four amazing kids and a dog. Yet, I am so lonely that it sometimes feels like my chest will explode.

I used to have friends.  I used to be the life of the party.  I was always the one that did the crazy stunts or stayed up for two days drinking and having a good time.  I used to have a great marriage, and the kids and I always had fun and went and explored.

But then I lost everything.

Money, cars, my house, my mobility, my health.  I became disabled in September of 2005.  I won’t go into all the boring details but let’s just say that I will be lucky to be able to walk in a few years, even if the rate of progression stays slow like it is now.

I lost almost every friend.

People I had always been there for.  People I loved, loaned money to, made soup for when they were sick, gave a shoulder to cry on, etc.  Yet, at a pretty steady pace, all these people no longer cared about me.  I could no longer party, no longer stay up late, no longer hike or camp with them, no longer go on long car rides.  So they replaced me or just stopped calling.

Yet I could have still had a glass of wine with them or played video or board games; shit man I even knit.  Yet it wasn’t good enough.  And like a fool, I called, emailed, texted and IM’d all of them all the time.  No response.  Instead, I torture myself by reading their Facebook posts.  I see the pictures of them having fun and hanging out, hugging and laughing.  I see them interacting and carrying on like I never existed.  It hurts.  It hurts so bad that I cry a few times a week as I look at the pictures and see the joy in their face.

But what about my wife you say?

My wife has since become a roommate.  She has had a long term affair with another man and acted like it was no big deal when I found out.  She is never home and leaves me here with the kids all day every day.  She can go three or four days without saying more than a single word to me and the kids.  I’ve been with her since I was 17 years old.  I’m now 33.  So that makes the heart hurt worse, the tears burn a bit more and the darkness just that little bit thicker.

The kids, four boys who I live and would die for, try and understand.  They don’t, and I don’t want them to know it all.  It would scare them.  They don’t get why I can’t give them piggy back rides, wrestle with them or just sit on the floor and play.  So they aren’t around much.  They go to my mom’s house to play over there, go to their friends’ house, or sit in their rooms and play games on the computer.  They see the pharmacy on my night stand and see me cry out in pain. They’ve seen me fall down and they’ve seen me in the hospital.

And that, my invisible internet friends? That makes it all hurt so much more than anything that’s ever been done to me.

I sit here day after day.  I look out the same window and wonder what other people are doing.  I wonder if my name ever comes up in conversation or if people see old pictures of me and ask what happened to me.

I wonder if I will ever have somebody to sit with and tell them how I feel? Someone I can cry to and explain my fears to. Someone I can laugh with, and for just a minute forget what my life has become.  Someone who will hold my hand, or brush a stray hair from my cheek or maybe a rouge tear or two, or many.

I want to feel again.  I want to smile and laugh.  I want to feel wanted and appreciated and not cold and angry.

So, I sit here.  I write these words.  Maybe a person or two will read this.  In the end though, none of my old friends will read this. None of them will realize how bad they’ve hurt me.  My wife will never change, and it’s too late for that anyway. The divorce papers are sitting in my sock drawer, waiting to be signed.

I never would have thought that the final years of my cut-short life would be spent in such physical and emotional pain.  I never knew that loneliness would seem like it’s killing me faster than any disease and disability could.

This is just me venting.  This is a great way to express what I really feel, without having to keep it all bottled up.  If I had to keep this bottled up, it would drive me down, it would pull me under.  I can’t let that happen. I have to be able to find small joys in life, like singing to the kids, making fun of Jenny McCarthy, and just living life to the best of my ability!

I love this site and the writers on here.  You all are amazing people, and Aunt Becky is my hero!

(ed note: I love you. I’m glad you wrote this out. We’re all here for you. xo, AB)