Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Happily Ever After

Posted on: January 15, 2012

I’ve written it before, and it’s still true: for a long time, things have been better. Still peaks and troughs, but a little milder, and not so frequent. I think it’s largely down to routine – three meals a day, going to bed, having to get up for work – and also partly being with my family. I know I complain a lot, but weirdly, the madder my mum is, the more sensible I am. It makes me scared and miserable, but when she’s out of control, I find reserves of strength. I have something to focus on, so my mind doesn’t spiral into confusion and destruction. But recently, she’s being quite reasonable (it won’t last: it never does), and without the urgent, pressing fear and the responsibility to keep the family together, I start to focus more and more on my own inadequacies and failures.

I feel trapped here. I feel like I’m in suspended animation. Day after day, week after week, month after month, nothing happens. The routine that’s helping to keep me sane is stifling. I’m so scared that this is my life now, forever, and that nothing will ever change. I’m terrified that I’ll never get out of this house, will always be here, will never escape my perpetual adolescence.

I’m bored, and I’m restless, and on days when I don’t have work, I lie on my bed all day and do nothing, or nothing of any worth, at any rate. I try to read, but have difficulty concentrating after a few pages. I switch my computer on, but have nobody to speak to, and nothing to do. I vaguely research charities, think about doing some volunteering, or giving away some of the money that’s like an albatross around my neck (most of my wages are untouched, just sitting in a bank account doing nothing, and this money feels like a burden, like a flashing sign above my head, alerting everyone to the fact that I have nothing and no-one to spend it on, nothing of any importance in my life, and I’m just trudging along, accumulating money I’ll never spend because having a job but having no life is easier to explain than curling up in bed forever, doing nothing and speaking to no-one and never moving until I die, which is what I feel like doing at the moment) – but I’m embarrassed. It’s so stupid, I know, but I’m incapable of admitting when I want something. I’d like to have something meaningful in my life, some slight feeling that anything I do actually means something to anyone else, but that seems particularly selfish, and anyway, what could I do? All the things I’m good at – planning, organising, talking, explaining – aren’t really very practical, and they’re things I’m only good at some of the time, anyway. Even if I managed to shake myself out of this torpor and offer to help someone, they probably wouldn’t want my help because I’m useless. And…I don’t really know how to explain it, but I feel like it would reveal too much of me. I’m increasingly secretive, and finding it impossible to reveal even the most mundane facts about myself (always saying, “that’s a personal question”, even when it’s “what kind of music do you like?” or “what did you have for dinner?”), and I feel like if I volunteered to do something, everyone would be looking at what I was doing and trying to deduce things about me from it.

The only thing that scares me more than the thought of being frozen in time here for all of my life is the thought of change. Because I’m alright, here. It’s not the life I used to dream I’d have. I know it’s nothing notable or special, and that I’m a person who’ll never be remembered, but I have some sort of stability, and that’s not nothing.

I used to think I could be dynamic and successful, that I could make some sort of difference to something, but whatever drive and ambition I used to have drained out of me a long time ago.

I’m bored, and trapped, and I feel like this is the end point…that this is where the narrative stops. I feel like this is what happens after ‘and they all lived happily ever after’. All that can ever happen once the plot is over is stagnation.

I went to my friend’s house on New Year’s Eve, and it was nice, but awkward. Nice to see people I haven’t seen for a while, but awkward because I’m not the person I was when I knew them well. Or, maybe, the problem is that I am still that person, and they’ve all changed. They’ve all grown up. All the people in my life who are around my age are doing stuff. They’re having adventures. They’re going travelling and starting businesses and doing doctorates and getting married and having kids and getting promoted and buying houses and looking to the future.

And I’m just me. Living in my parents’ house. Getting up, going to work, coming home, watching TV, going to bed. I feel like I have nothing to say to anyone.

I know that it should be enough. Roof over my head and food on the table and things aren’t as mad as they used to be.

I just feel like, whether I die today or in 50 years’ time, there’d be very little difference in my life story. Everybody else always seems to have hopes and dreams, and for so long my only aim has been staying alive, and now that I’ve mostly got that sorted, it’s dawned on me that just breathing isn’t, in itself, an achievement.

I feel flat, deflated and purposeless. I don’t really know what to do.


1 Response to "Happily Ever After"

I’m having the exact feelings. I feel that I’ve reached a point of my life were nothing is changing. The same routine and the same days are being repeated. I feel lazy and I like to spend my time on the computer or lying on my bed. I feel sad and lonely even though I have friends and I entertain myself occasionally. And I don’t feel like socializing and going out with friends. I’m just in a roadblock on my pathetic life.

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My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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