LOSING MYSELF, FINDING PEACE POST 11 ISOLATION

In the bad years when I hit rock bottom, I lost my closest friend. I thought we were best friends. I thought I could tell her anything and that I was safe. I was wrong. As “friends”, we talked all the time and shared confidences. We raised our children together. We shared history. But then one day, she went home to visit her family. I’m sure she talked to them about me, and they convinced her that I was dangerous, and she needed to cut off contact with me. Even writing this makes my heart hurt. I can’t forget the betrayal I felt when she turned her back on me.

I may have lost memories, but the pain I felt when she told me, “We just can’t be friends anymore. You’re too negative” was so severe that it never went away. While those may not have been the exact words she used, that’s what her message was. Our friendship was over, and it was my fault. I wasn’t good enough, worthy enough. I was bad. I was wrong. My biggest source of support, except for my spouse, was no longer there for me. The person that knew my innermost parts had judged me to be so unhealthy that I couldn’t be around her.

What was I supposed to do with that information? How was I supposed to fix that and what would it mean if I did? I was left internalizing the insult that I was so negative that my best friend couldn’t be around me.

I was so isolated for so many years. My depression left me in quicksand with no idea how to crawl out. Medication and counseling helped but it didn’t solve the problem. With all I’ve gone through in my life, why was asking for life to be easier too much?

I saw many counselors over the years. Some ended better than others, but I was betrayed by one counselor. She rejected me…over text. She sent me a text saying I was doing so well I didn’t need her anymore. I was shaken. I was suicidal and barely functioning. When I texted her back, she admitted the truth, “you cancel too often and I want to be able to take on referrals.” She had never told me my cancelling was an issue. I always gave 24 hours’ notice, but I will admit I had a new job and was trying to balance work and counseling. What hurt was she did it over text without giving me a chance to address her issues. It took me months to try someone new, I was so hurt, so betrayed. I tried a couple but there was no fit. I was still suicidal, so my wife took over finding someone for me.

When I first went to see the new counselor she’d found, I was very cautious. I told her how I’d been hurt and I was afraid of it happening again. She reassured me that she would never dismiss me until I was ready. We’ve seen each other for years now. We joke about it, but when she compliments my progress too much, I get fearful. I think she sees it on my face because she always reassures me not to worry. She will always be here for me until I’m ready to leave treatment. That may never happen. I remain high-functioning because I stay under the care of a psychologist and psychiatrist. I don’t wait until I’m in crisis. I stay on top of things as much as possible. I’ve spent years in counseling. I make sure I have a counselor even more than a primary care doctor.

Support is one of those things everyone needs but not everyone has. It’s hard battling life alone. At my lowest point, I was also at my loneliest. I prayed for friends, but it felt like those prayers fell on deaf ears. I used to share my pain cautiously out of fear of responses. Now I am open about the depth of my pain. It doesn’t make me popular, but it does make me real. I hope the pain I’ve gone through shows people that mental illness doesn’t need to invalidate our worth. It took a long time, but I learned how to smile when sad. To engage when I feel like an outsider.

It’s been years since I lost my best friend. Years since I lost my counselor. I have a best friend now. She calls me on her way home from work and we text and email regularly. As my mental illness stabilized, and I was able to be a friend to others, my social support system solidified. I’m fortunate to have a few close, supportive friends now. Sometimes, the schizoaffective disorder overwhelms me, and I shut down, but I keep trying. I try to be the friend to others that I crave for myself.

It’s so hard when the pain drives you underground. It’s hard when your pain is too much for people. The loneliness, the isolation, is the opposite of what we need but that’s what happens. When dealing with a seriously needy person, you need to set healthy boundaries. I have friends that are dealing with intense battles also. I can’t always be there for everyone, but I try not to put it on them. I reassure them that I love them even when I can’t always support them the way they want or need. They aren’t “wrong” or “bad”. They are in pain. I’ve been there. I get it. Loneliness is hard, isolation hurts.

Ultimately, we need to remember that God loves us but that’s hard when you’re all alone and God’s people aren’t helping us they way we need. It took years, but God answered my prayers for friends. Girlfriends to have coffee or lunch together. Hugs on Sunday mornings instead of just a polite handshake. Someone to ask how I am and wait for an answer. Thank God I have my wife. I am never alone, even when I feel that way.

If you have the capacity, reach out to the person on the sidelines. Look them in the eye and let them know they’re valuable, they are loved, and even if you don’t understand, you’re willing to try. Just let them know, they aren’t alone.

If you find my writing thought provoking, consider subscribing to my blog on Substack: https://jasmineraysymms.substack.com/ 

All previous posts are available on Substack and my website.

Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash