Alone

I’m feeling lonely. Today, it’s the “I am alone” aspect of the refrain “I walk alone” from Green Day’s song “Boulevard of broken dreams” that resonates with me. 

Last night, my loneliness was so intense that my chest felt tight. 

The causes of this extremely intense loneliness have deep, ancient roots for me; but last night it was triggered by something very specific: by a few different friends telling me about their fun plans for this summer with other people — with their partners and/or other friends but not with me. That’s when it struck me. And it hurt awfully, it hurt so much that the pain was even physical. Friends don’t invite me to do fun activities with them, they don’t plan fun things (like summer vacations) with me. Friends seek me out for a chat, maybe for advice, for a walk or dinner, maybe sometimes for a short half-day hike — and often, anyway, it’s me seeking them out first. But when it comes to bigger plans, plans that require more thought and that entail more connection, I am not included. This hurts. 

I must admit, it wasn’t always this way. There have been times, even many years, when I had individual friends or partners or groups of friends with whom I made plans and went on trips together and did fun, bonding activities together, even until quite recently (pre-COVID). So I realize that it’s partly been the pandemic that has exacerbated this situation or pattern for me. But it hurts awfully nonetheless, and maybe even more so because I know the beauty and joy and sweetness of planning and going on a trip or a weekend adventure with friends or partners. I know how fun as well as meaningful those experiences are for me, how bonding and important and joyful. I have missed these things terribly during the pandemic, as many of us probably have. But last night, all of a sudden, I saw that now, as the U.S. gets a “break” from the pandemic, many people are going back to joyful group plans and activities while I am not. For some reason that is not totally clear to me, my friends aren’t including me in this aspect of “coming back to life”. Why?

So then last night I called one of my closest friends here to share my feelings with her and possibly even find the causes or a solution to this situation. This friend is a wonderful person, both very empathetic and a practical problem-solver — and one of the few people who often tries to include me in the activities with her daughters and husband. She listened to me and tried to comfort me and offered some practical ideas to try and improve or change my situation. She also suggested some reasons why other friends or people in general might not be so keen on including me in fun free-time activities. She said: (1) “You are intense (I am intense, too)”; (2) “You don’t do dating and leaving those boundaries unclear is confusing for many people”. 

I understand both comments. I have been told before that I am “intense”; and my loose boundaries between “friendship” and “romantic partnership” (based mainly on consent and feelings rather than established patterns or rules) has been a source of confusion in some of my relationships before. So I know there’s a good deal of truth in both of my friend’s comments from last night — and I know they were meant to help me. But they hurt as well, because the result is that I feel there’s something “wrong with me”. It feels awful that I’m “intense”, like it’s a defect or a problem, something I should change or fix in myself in order to be likable or lovable or accepted by others. I also feel bad or weird or “wrong” about not dating officially or not always having strict general rules about friendship/romantic relationship boundaries. 

Does my being “intense” (whatever that may mean!) make me unpleasant to be around or someone impossible to have fun with? 

Does every relationship have to start out with a banner stating whether we want to “date each other” or not? 

I know that I am a joyful, playful and sometimes even quite funny person: I know it because I can see & hear myself but also because I have been told so multiple times. So why can’t I be considered just as a person who would like to share some fun & carefree time, like everyone else, when plans are made involving something fun together, like going on a trip or camping or backpacking? 

And please don’t give me the answer, “because you’re so independent”! Yes, “I walk alone”, I enjoy my freedom, I enjoy my solo adventures and road trips on my own, and always have made some time to travel/explore on my own; but I also like and need and at this point almost crave sharing adventures and fun, carefree activities with friends.