I try to keep my thoughts realistic, but there are times I suffer being solitary. I find I don’t have a lot to talk about with most people. My conceptualizations and ideas are not often the subject matter in question. Instead of compromise my standards in order to interact, I stay silent. In my attempts to reach-out to others, I give myself enough reasons to internalize.

It’s hard having unwavering standards. Even in the face of isolation, I still know better than to indulge common people for whatever sort of relationship could be garnered. Nothing lasting or meaningful ever got its start that way. Trust, respect, and understanding are skills lost to this generation. My peers are content with mediocrity, when I strive for more.

I just need to accept being alone. It is the way I have endured for most of my life, and it has had both good and bad moments. Whatever the short-term consequences of feeling sadness may temporarily distract, the inclination to continue doing things my way is overwhelming. I can’t reconcile feeling alone, because that’s just how it should be right now. It’s a bitter pill, because it’s hard up front and only pays off after a great deal of time goes by. I should be aware that though this sadness may be of my own making, I still accept the essentiality of its presence. For better or worse, I’m here with it.

6 thoughts on “Lonesome

    • Thank you. It is a tough spot to be in, but necessary. I still have a lot I need to figure out about myself, and that work is mine to do alone. So it seems daunting, facing the emptiness like you’re saying, but in the end, I can draw back from the edge and find hope. Because chance is random, and good things come just as bad ones do as well. I live for those happy moments. I reach for the positive in my life, and know that I can still count on ME, even if I can’t count on ANYONE else.

      • I’m in a similar spot. The quote “we accept the love we think we deserve” has really resonated with me recently. I’m still very early in my diagnosis, so while I’m lonely often, I don’t think I’m really ready to let anyone love me if that makes sense. For me, I can’t even always depend on myself for that and I need to learn to be able to before someone else becomes involved. Thank you for your candor and for sharing your feelings so authentically.

      • You’re quite welcome, and the respect is mutual. I’m 12 years diagnosed, and I’ve been on a non-stop roller coaster the whole way. Most of it, my own doing, but it doesn’t make a dramatic life any easier when you have bipolar disorder. I’m happy to disclose, for my own selfish, therapeutic reasons. I vent on the blog so I don’t have to carry the weight of all my unsaid words. And being a writer… holy crap, do I have a lot of words to share. I saw your offer on your blog and would gladly take you up on the offer to be thoroughly questioned. I enjoy writing responses to inquiries. However informative (or not) you may find the subject matter I leave to your discretion.

  1. You are strong. Being able to stand alone – or even crumple into a messy heap alone- requires a shitton of courage and strength and self dependancy. I couldnt do it if I tried.

    • I couldnt do it if I tried.

      I get this. Just for your personal reference though: I never actually KNEW I would be strong enough to stand on my own, until I actually did it. I am only aware of what I can do, not what I should do. So, my only criteria for the experiment was to measure progress (if there was some), or become mired in emotions. I don’t like the way I feel when I’m sad, down or otherwise depressed. I chose to give my best effort in understanding my suffering, and learn how to avoid it healthily. With this tool in hand, I’ve been able to revive myself from various emotionally troubling spots. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s still better than having NO DEFENSE against the darkness.

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