I’m so incredibly alone. And I’ve been like this so long that I can’t imagine being any other way. Even spending time with people I care about just serves to highlight the separation and disconnection. This is me now. I can’t relate to other people – not really. Other people are a threat. I can’t let anyone in. I can’t let my guard down. I can’t be authentic or real, with anyone. It’s just me, and the performance I put on to protect myself. And I’m so fucking sick of both.
My nephew was born today. My family cried with happiness when we got the news. I felt nothing. I suppose I was relieved my sister got through the birth OK. But I didn’t feel that. I was too busy playing the role of someone who isn’t a sociopathic narcissistic monster, and my performance wasn’t even convincing. I’m so far removed from normal human interaction that I’m incapable of authentically responding to anything. When someone close to me finally dies I know my primary focus will be what my response looks like to others.
1 comment
This must be painful. You have a sense of what connection is, but cannot let it happen. I suppose a few people have connected to you, even if it is not reciprocal.
I relate, in a counterintuitive way. I used to connect with others, lots of others, but only in professional roles and settings. Up close and personal there was almost nothing there.
This is improving, some seven years of therapy later. It still feels strange to connect just as a fellow human, it has an alienated majesty to it. Somehow, it was worth doing what it took to get this far with it.