octolilly [through the years]

In the spirit of chronicling my life anew, I must say that the word I’d use to best describe my present state of mind is alone.

I don’t say that pitifully, and trust me, I am already imagining the awkward glances from across the room and your thoughts of she just needs to get herself together.

It’s just not that simple.

We’ve been living here for 15 months and it pains me on a very deep level to admit that I’m lonely. Dreadfully lonely. My poor three year old is even lonely. We tangle up in blankets in front of the patio door and talk about Going Out There and Doing Things. But it feels as though I haven’t been able to reach *this* place until right now. That is, the place where I can recognize that I’m lonely and that I need some change.

Up until now I’ve been trying to figure out what is wrong with my health (I finally got some answers and it turns out my thyroid is whacky as whack), attempting to understand how to communicate in my marriage (Asperger’s, with its gifts, can also be deeply frustrating and overwhelming), and attempting to keep up with a little boy who sometimes exhibits some of the same Aspie like behavior and that is when I just want to climb a tree and hide while I weep.

It’s been fucking hard.

But for the most part, I feel as though I see a light at the end of the tunnel. I have answers about my health, Daniel and I are learning how to navigate through life a bit better, and I’m trying to mother with more patience. It’s just that when I finally crawl my way out of this tunnel, I feel as though I’m going to be standing on the side of the road with my thumb up, begging for friends.

When we left South Carolina and move to Pennsylvania for nine months, we had a sweet group of people that tried their best to get to know me and I just sat in that beautiful house for nine months and cried everyday. They made offers to watch Drew, lend us an extra car, go out for coffee, and I just couldn’t do it.

My trust issues have grown in the past few years and in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t handle the vulnerability it required to let anyone in. And here in Michigan, I thought it would be different. I really did. But here we are, 15 months later, and I still haven’t made any real friends. I have met some really kind people here but no one here really knows me. And it isn’t because some of the people here haven’t tried. Like I said, there are some really kind people here. I’m just the one with walls.

I don’t have a very high social need. In fact, I get easily annoyed with people who require parties, gatherings, and constant social interaction. Give me my laptop, a stack of books, or games to play, and I’ll nerd it out until 3am.

And yet I know that it’s quite healthy to step away from the computer and breathe. There are places I want to go, things I want to try, friendships I want to really happen. I just have to figure out how to make it happen.

And the most frustrating part is this in-between state – where I know I want some change, I’m willing to write about it publicly, and I’m making lists of things I want to do. And yet I’m swallowing a huge amount of fear at the idea of trusting another human being to be my friend. My heart has been hurt so badly in the past few years that I feel like I just can’t handle anymore.

But I have a little boy who needs a mother who isn’t so afraid and so that is where I am. I’m slowly and cautiously opening the door to new things and if a sudden wind blows that damn door back in my face, then I’ll probably go hide again for awhile.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 2nd, 2010 at 2:06 pm and is filed under Depression, The Everyday. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.