Lonely

I’m painfully lonely today. This is certainly not an unfamiliar feeling for someone as introverted, socially-avoidant, and socially-isolated as me, but it’s worse today than usual. I’m usually quite satisfied with somewhat robotically and unemotionally going through my day in solitude and that’s exactly how virtually every weekday is, except for the frequent spattering of appointments throughout my week. I work full-time from my home office and Ben and I can count the minutes, rather than hours, that we are in one another’s company each day; our schedules don’t overlap well. I don’t have kids and I don’t have any local friends I spend time with since, in the timeline of someone on the spectrum (who has trouble making friends and doing social things), we’ve basically just moved here. It’s been five months and four days, but who’s counting…

Anyway, today I’m wearing the loneliness like a full-body leaden radiation shield. It’s not the comforting and calming weighted blanket feel; it’s the heavy trapping feeling like trying to fight a strong undertow to get back on shore after a long swim. It’s days like today that the familiar welling of tears keeps filling my eyelids and I have to instantly distract myself to avoid succumbing to their flow. 

My house is cold, both literally and figuratively. It’s an unusually chilly May afternoon and the pervasive grayness has prevented any sunlight from warming the room. The thermostat reads 56, which is even colder than the uncomfortably cool 58 we permitted in the winter to save money. I can taste the figurative coldness, the loneliness, the lack of vitality. When I came back from OT this morning, it overwhelmed me as I approached the front door, the coldness in here hit me like a gust of November air with wet leaves. I could see it, smell it, taste it, and feel it. Coldness like this gnaws on my stomach and encourages me to eat, even though I’m uncomfortably full, to ease the ache and fill the void I feel from lack of human connection. 

The real reason days like today bother me is because I know they aren’t isolated incidents in that it’s not an unusually quiet day that will pass. It’s symptomatic of the life I lead and very much a chronic condition. I want two opposing things at the same time and it’s virtually impossible to rectify that in an agreeable fashion: I long for love and company yet I’m wildly uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and exhausted by it. I prefer to feel connected yet I struggle to connect. Social interaction is my constant logic puzzle or science experiment, as I must carefully observe, analyze, and try to understand and replicate the needed responses. I miss the opportunity to enjoy the moment and be present in the engagement because I’m busy “working” to make sense of it. It’s like instead of watching the production, I’m manning the spotlights and just waiting for the cues instead of comprehending the meaning of the play. It’s not until after the friend and I have departed and gone our separate ways that I can then run back through everything that happened and try to gather the meaning from the whole rather than each individual part. It is then I can assign emotional significance to what happened and not just the literal meaning of each sentence, that I so carefully followed in a calculated manner to determine my next question or response. I appear articulate and like I’m understanding (I hope) because a ton of legwork is quickly and constantly being performed in my head, but unlike a computer, it’s hard for me to simultaneously carry out all of these processes so some information gets stuck in the holding area, a backlog of sorts, that I evaluate later, even if I don’t want to anymore (like if I’m trying to sleep). Unresolved material begs to be processed before moving on to the next activity, which is one reason why social things can be so tiring: for me, they extend well beyond the end of the interaction. 

Any potential sensory overload aside (say we were out and about doing something), my brain will not cease analytic activity until it has completely finished assessing and cataloging all of the verbal, nonverbal, environmental, and contextual information from the encounter. Then, for some reason, after that lengthy and arduous process seems satisfactorily completed, it starts digging up prior social encounters (either organically experienced or observed on TV or elsewhere) and reassessing those or comparing the new material to whatever is stored in memory. There can be no obvious relation but I have to ride out the digestion because I can’t quell it. Sometimes, useful connections are made, such as relating a new discussion about a friend’s volatile freelance job situation with a prior conversation about stressful financial times. Frequently, it’s useless details or seemingly elementary concepts: the geometric pattern of someone’s earrings reminded me of the sweater of someone at the library four months ago or people’s lips purse when they are hesitant to answer a personal question (nonverbal patterns take up a disproportionately large percentage of my brain processing speed and mental attention).

Days like today are somewhat like getting a lousy performance appraisal or report card; all of my acknowledged weaknesses are directly handed to me in objective language. The insecurities I have, the deficiencies I know to be problematic, are presented in clear view and the only possible reaction is to yet again acknowledge their presence and significance. We all want to be “successful” or at least see progress, so it’s ego deflating and discouraging to get reminders of the contrary. As someone who’s naturally and habitually critical of myself, I’m fully aware of many of my challenges and must deliberately try to recognize growth and give myself credit when it’s due. This is not one of those cases. I’m lonely because I live a pretty isolated life and my good friends all live quite some distance from me.

Today, like many days, I turned to Comet for support and, as always, found her love to be boundless and her attentiveness to be unparalleled. While this is truly one of the wonderful blessings of having a loving pet, I want today’s pain to remind me to continue to make a concerted effort to reach out to people I already know and try and cultivate those friendships and also push myself to make new friends in my community. Although this is probably my biggest challenge and least comfortable position, ultimately, it is a required means to the end I desire: meaningful connections with friends who I can spend time with in an emotionally gratifying way. Loneliness carries a potent heartache; I battle enough pains as it is. Alleviating this one will not only eliminate its insult, but friendship has the transformative power to lessen other pains as well. I could use all of that medicine that I can get.