There is a kind of loneliness that doesn’t come from isolation.
It comes from being surrounded by people who don’t really see you.
Lately, my mind feels exhausted. Not tired in a way that sleep can fix, but drained from constantly holding things in. I don’t have friends I can genuinely turn to. No one I can call without rehearsing what I’m allowed to feel. Even the people closest to me, my parents, believe in “tough love.” Rules, restrictions, discipline. Emotions are treated like distractions. Feelings are seen as weaknesses. And somewhere in between their intentions and expectations, my inner world gets dismissed.
I’ve started to feel like my emotions don’t matter unless they’re convenient.
That realization hurts more than I expected.
People often say, “At least you have your parents,” and yes, I do. But love without emotional safety still feels heavy. When vulnerability is met with judgment or control instead of understanding, it teaches you to stay silent. Over time, that silence turns into resentment, anger, and deep exhaustion.
I don’t hate people because I want to.
I hate how disconnected I feel from them.
Every interaction feels performative. Conversations feel shallow. Smiles feel forced. I’m tired of pretending I’m fine just to avoid being questioned or corrected. I’m tired of explaining myself to people who listen only to respond, not to understand.
What makes it worse is the absence of a safe space. No friend. No outlet. No place where I can drop the armor. When you carry everything alone for too long, even small things begin to feel overwhelming. Stress piles up silently. It sits in your chest, your head, your breath.
And some days, it feels like I’m just surviving, not living.
I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want advice thrown at me like solutions to a problem. What I crave is simple: to be heard without being fixed, to be understood without being controlled, to be allowed to feel without being told I’m wrong for it.
This phase of my life is heavy. I don’t know when it will pass. But writing this is my way of acknowledging that my pain is real, even if no one around me validates it. My feelings exist. They matter. And I refuse to gaslight myself into believing otherwise.
Sometimes, surviving is enough.
And sometimes, writing it out is the first step toward breathing again.
1 comment
Wow, that’s good that you can open up and be vulnerable with yourself about the pain that you are in though. Seriously, some people would drink themselves to death rather than open up the way you just did. Or use other drugs to crush the pain. Lord knows I’ve been tempted, or tried.
Seriously, it’s like you’ve been voluptuous with your pain to the point I feel I owe you some help. I can talk about my pain a lot, I guess that’s the fair thing. Misery loves company. Two hurting people can help each other, perhaps.
The thing is I’m almost bled out. I don’t know how sad to be these days, and that’s the god’s honest truth. My best friend dog passed away a few days before Christmas, that’s the burden I’ve been carrying alone for the past few weeks, along with the burden of a broken washing machine.
Those two are about to be resolved, I think. Tomorrow I’m getting a new dog, and the repairman is coming for his first visit. It’s a three step process for the washing machine, so that’s slow, and I don’t entirely trust it, but the dog thing I should start feeling better tomorrow night. Which is actually almost exactly a month after the loss.
My other burdens though, they endure. I’m unemployed, and I’m applying to grad school. The grad school thing is more important. Also my dad is sick, disabled and we don’t know whether he’ll be able to return to work.
Add to that my wife and I want to start a family and because of all the drugs I’m on it’s uncertain if I can get my junk to work on command… it’s frustrating. Used to be able to get it up for anything, but getting older is not fun.
Well, I looked it up because I’ve been meaning to and apparently they make ED medicine in daily multivitamin form now, which is really cool. I’m still going to try to go without first, but it’s nice to know that I have the option.
I was watching a family cartoon last night and I started feeling some very strong feelings, which kind of indicated to me that it’s possible that my brain might be powerful enough to generate what I need. The brain is the most powerful organ in the body, you can mind over body almost all the time.
This whole grief journey has changed how I look at the power of the mind, I’m using my narrative psychology on myself just to get through it. I realized that the most relevant narrative out of all the Christmas movies I watched was It’s a Wonderful Life. I’ve missed out on so much, because of my heart. I keep stumbling across sob stories of projects to work on. Like who works at a mental hospital for children for three years? Then another year inspecting pipeline for the gas company, yeah, saving lives, but I wasn’t setting the world on fire like I dreamed of.
Then I finally finished college, and covid just did exactly what the great depression did to George Baily, kept me from escaping this one horse town.
The only difference is that George Baily had children, because in that era the economy didn’t rack young men in the gibblets like it does to men like me. That’s honestly how I feel about how my career has gone thus far, I’ve been racked over and over right in my baby maker, and that’s why I aint got no babies of my own.
I wouldn’t wish my career on anyone. This is what you do to criminals who hurt people when they’re young, not to bright young things like I was supposed to be. I don’t know what awful thing I’m atoning for.
Yet the people who are older and wiser than me tell me all this will be useful when I’m older. I have learned that in the time I have been alive; listen to people older than you. On many occasions they know what the crap they are talking about.
It’s been one trial after another for years, and I’m trying to dismount the treadmill of guilt, self abuse and depression because frankly I want to live to see my golden years. I’m certain the amount of nicotine in my body is not good for me. Which isn’t even getting into the prescription drugs. I’m less worried about the THC, but it’s not entirely risk free. The allergy meds are actually tied with pain medications for being really scary.
It’s like you can’t win for trying when you are trying putting stuff in your body to regulate pain or breathing. My doctor has me on a minimal dose strategy now, one medication, and it’s working so far.
Man, if I could just go swimming it would clear the whole thing up, chlorine is better for the system than any medication on the market. That and a good sauna. It’s why I want to go back to work and get a gym membership with a pool and sauna. If I could go just a few days a week it’d fix me up good.
It’s good for the brain too, get’s the synapses firing really well.
For your situation though, I don’t know how old you are or what you do for a living, what gives your life meaning and so on. Finding meaning is what makes life worthwhile, seems to me. Depression happens when we hit a drift, when we can’t find meaning.
We feel worthless because we forget what gives us worth, why others saw worth in us to begin with. Which is why I’m returning to the well which for me is school. I’m reasonably smart especially when it comes to psychology. I’m good at coding too, which is why I’m planning on working on my video game in my downtime between getting these two psychology projects off the ground, it’s the only coding project I’ve ever been enthusiastic about.
Search yourself, you’re good at something. That is what gives you worth. You’re probably good at several things. Teachers have told you what you were good at. I mean unless you are really young and haven’t hit the stride of life yet.
However, I firmly believe that everyone has talent and ability, something they do better than anyone else. Everyone has the ability to stand out in their field. No one is useless. We all have our part to play in life’s design.