The Hope Neuron

I’m struggling with time. With how I want to use my time. I want to be doing more but I am still deciding what that “more” is. I am also rigorously avoiding the idea of what I “should” be doing, because that’s a terrible word, especially for the anxious.

“Should” means an abstract, outsider perspective. It means there are rules. Usually, it also means there are things I am failing to do. I know myself, to a certain degree, anyway. I know that I can’t live according to should. I have to live another way. I need it to be intuitive and mindful. Should is marching orders and I don’t do well with those.

This aversion to socially-driven obligation makes finding my way to a happier and healthier self even more challenging. Still, I am doing my best to be aware of my wants and needs and to find ways to care for them. Not because I should, but because it’s best for me.

The problem is me and the problem is other people. I think that lately I have been feeling loneliness so keenly that it drives me to interact too much with people. It’s an overload of social interaction for someone like me. I end up saturated by the connections and then I have to lean back into solitude again.

I do believe there is a balance for me. It is attainable. I just haven’t been present enough lately to find it. The person I used to spend so much time with won’t ever have that same role in my life anymore. We’ve come to an end of our friendship. Maybe it was wrong of us both to be so codependent, but all the same, going from daily contact for hours on end to none of that is going to take some adjusting.

But, in these early days, I think I ended up overcompensating. It was almost like trying to be an extrovert, I suppose. I went looking for new people to talk to and now I just want to creep back into my shell, despite its loneliness. I can’t imagine being that engaged with people and not feeling burnt out. I do worry that this is going to alienate the new connections I’ve made, but at the same time I know I can’t just keep revving that social throttle. I have to make time for what matters to me. Even if it means less time in the company of people, virtually or otherwise.

In separating myself from my friend, I understand that I am going to trigger more times of solitude, but I believe that reorganizing my time will also enable me to find more value in that solitude. I want to make more space for my writing, for reading and for other creative projects.

Being alone isn’t all bad. Not by a long shot. For the first time in a long while I find that I can stop worrying about what I’m doing wrong. I can leave behind the anxiety of how he’s going to react and how I will be judged for the things I have and haven’t done. Instead I have a tranquil breath of air, and the freedom to follow my own path at my own pace. Knowing you can never be good enough for someone else’s standards is a weird kind of blessing. I don’t have to berate myself on his behalf. I can decide what matters to me and I can be honest and know that I believe in myself. I can refuse to give up on me. Even though he has.

There’s a word to describe how I was being treated. I hesitate to use it. I tried to use it once to express my feelings and he went ballistic. It didn’t seem to matter that it was my subjective experience, that it was how he was making me feel. In his mind I was wrong, and how dare I compare what he was doing to that. He knows what “that” really feels like. What I felt didn’t compare to what he’d been through. But my therapist used that word. I told her what had been going on and she used it.

I’ve tried so hard for so long to rationalize and be understanding for his sake. But I don’t think I can do it anymore. Part of me is petrified he will read these words and unleash another verbal torrent on me. The other part is so tired of being the one who accepts his behaviour and absorbs his anger. I feel trodden on and I’m fed up.

There is nothing wrong with getting angry. It’s not that. It’s what you do with it.

Maybe I’m weak. Maybe I’m selfish. Maybe I’m all the things he says. That doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated so badly. I deserve compassion and I deserve understanding and patience and love. I have always tried to provide that for other people. Don’t I have a right to the same?

I didn’t mean to get into this. But this is my journal. This is my space for my progress and as sad as it makes me, I believe that distancing myself from him is going to be progress. I still have hope for myself. Always.