(not my image)
I can be a hermit. It’s not easy for me to “reach out”. I fear bothering people. I expect rejection. But I try. I reach out. And I keep coming up empty handed.
I am not having success making friends in the city I’ve been living in for almost 5 years. I would give up, I might just give up, but damn, I need a friend. Where I live. I have some wonderful friends who I continue to be part of my life despite us being miles and miles apart. This is something I’m so grateful for. And I also feel the huge hole in my life here without a friend to hang out with, go do stuff with, etc.
I just feel like crawling under a rock and disappearing from existence right now. I’m struggling with chronic pain. With perimenopausal discomfort and emotional over-flow. I need some support. And I feel all the worse when I reach out for some and no one’s there.
I guess I should just get better at supporting myself. Ok. I can do that. But I’m so tired. Tired of trying and not getting anywhere. Trying and not connecting with anyone. Feeling like I’m just on my own. Life is meant to be shared. Maybe mine isn’t worthy.
So many things are overwhelming. Impossible problems that I can never solve. How can I fight misogyny, climate change, systemic racism, if I can’t even make one fucking friend? Maybe I’m just destined/doomed to be a solitary loner most of the time. Maybe everyone will be SO glad when I stop reaching out so they can stop finding nice ways to rebuff me.
I am capable of being pretty self sufficient. But it’s getting really, really lonely.
Spring is blooming all around me and I just want to stay in bed and cry. Maybe I should just chalk it up to perimenopause hell. But it feels like a failure. Failure to be a good human.
If life is short, why does it feel so fucking long?