Loneliness Archive

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Alone?

It’s been many years since I have been “alone”. Recently my wife decided she was no longer in love with me, as well as telling me she wanted off the Rhys roller coaster. I told her from the very beginning how I was and what to expect, I even went as far to tell her that she would not be able to handle me. Somehow she convinced me that she in fact would be and could handle me and all of my “crazy”. We got married, and a year and a half later she dropped the ‘I cannot live like this’ bomb. So that left me here, alone.

The Sickness

I would like to welcome the newest member of our writing team, Rhys. In his first post with us, he talks about how his BPD affects his relationships with other people. Thanks for sharing with us, Rhys!

Recently I have been fighting a raging battle with myself internally, I have… not AM, but have BPD. I have a very difficult time with my interpersonal relationships, all having one huge symptom. Nausea. I find that when I spend too much time, and start getting a closer relationship with someone, may it be family, or a lover, or simply a good friend, my body starts to reject the closeness.

Mental Illness and Romantic Rejection

“I just don’t think I could handle that kind of rejection.” – George McFly

When you’re a little obsessed with your own mistakes, and you can replay every stupid thing you’ve ever said in your head, dozens or hundreds of times, until you become the biggest idiot in the world and can prove it mathematically, you tend to take some things a little harshly. Romantic rejection isn’t easy for anyone, but experiencing it with a healthy dose of depression and obsession is a whole lot less fun.

On Death, Depression, And The Moments Of Solitude That Follow

Trigger Warning: Death, Depression

My brother passed away of this month. He was a young man, only 23 years old and beginning his life. He, like the majority of my family, suffered greatly from mental illness. We shared depression, anxiety, and OCD. Though, sadly, his mental illnesses seemed to grow as mine began to ease.

But now that he is gone, I am yet again forced to work and understand my depression. I always wished it were something tangible that I could hold within my hands and pull layers away to physically understand it. I want to be able to understand the immensity. The silence. The deafening noise that combats that eerie moments of peace.

My Experience With Alcoholics Anonymous And Early Sobriety (Ava)

Sobriety is a different forest, and one I am picking my way through carefully. The level of commitment that AA seems to require is daunting, as is the god issue. But I have seen people speak there that moved and affected me in a way that was more beneficial than any serenity prayer. Balancing cynicism and nihilism with the all-to-clear possibility of death, I’ve relapsed this month but I’m trying to embrace the program without losing myself. When I relapsed, my wife yelled at me to give her the rest of the bottle of vodka, and all I could say was, “I want something to myself, that is mine.” I gave her the bottle. I want to believe I have other things to hold onto, but the glacial heft of a glass bottle is a hand held.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy – A Primer

Trigger Warning: Mention of self-harm and suicide

Approaching therapy without really knowing where you’re going or why you’re doing what you’re doing can be scary, and at times, feel thoroughly futile. I know – I’ve been there, and I’ve done that. My feelings about my therapy ranged from a desperate need for it to work, to a feeling that my problems could never be resolved, to now, the light of day as I find myself from time to time using the techniques I’ve been taught and working to control my emotions.

Flower

I think of my heart not as a muscle, or a stone, or a vase to be filled, but like a flower.

A delicate flower.

When it’s content, it blooms.

The Undying Message of Poetry

Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. -Sylvia Plath Poetry has always resonated within the mental health community.  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that so many poets share the same illnesses that plague us, depression, mania, split personalities.  For me, the words of Robert Frost and […]