Chronically Lonely
Chronically Lonely
Dealing with and Overcoming Loneliness
I think knowing how to be okay on your own is one of the most valuable things someone can learn how to do. There is no doubt that being okay while being alone is completely counter-culture in today’s society. Instagram keeps telling me my life should be one long highlight reel. But in reality, binge watching Psych on Netflix for the forth time in my pajamas, with a bag of pretzels and a cup of ice cold water, hmmm. Strangely, thats my kind of highlight!
I was definitely a loner in high school and after, but a lot of my loneliness was caused by having a chronic illness. And whether we want to admit it or not, if we don’t consistently see someone in the hall, at current events, or in the work place, we forget them. There are studies that prove this “out of sight, out of mind” dilemma. While I’m not going to talk about those studies here, I am going to talk about the loneliness that is chronic illness.
When I was first misdiagnosed with weird muscle disorders that no one knows about, I was just 14. And at the ages of 16 and 17, I was having to learn how to walk again. To say I was preoccupied would be an understatement! While my peers were driving and embracing their new found freedom, this girl was just beginning what would become a daily fight for “normalcy”. I’ve shed a multitude of tears over sleep-overs missed and nights out cancelled with friends. Now, before I move on, I do want to make one thing clear. I did get to drive and hangout with friends for a short time. I don’t want you to think I’m a hermit! But it was short lived. And while other girls shopped for prom dresses, I was being abused in a treatment center for yet another diagnosis. And, while I will never be able to express the gratefulness and appreciation I have for my family (who literally helped me go to the bathroom when I was unable to walk), the need that I had for just one friend was unimaginable. I desperately needed to feel safe with another person, to simply connect with someone, to have a friend. After my nightmare experience with doctors, therapists, and just with people, I kinda lost all hope in humanity. (Nervous laughter :/ ) But, being chronically sick doesn’t allow for much face to face time. When I wasn’t seeing doctors I was resting in bed or on the couch struggling to maintain muscle mass while being unable to walk; I was having seizures, tremors, and muscle spasms. I remember trying to save up my energy all week and praying I would be able to go to church Sunday. If I couldn’t feel normal, I at least wanted to look normal! Part of dealing with being sick and maintaining my sanity is doing the best I can to do “normal” things.
One of the things I wish people understood is just how hard I fight to simply live. I rest before doing anything so I can show up and you can pass me in the hall. Just so you can see me, with the hopes that passing me will put me on your mind just enough for you to think, “Hey! Ari is kinda chill. I should see if she wants to hangout or grab lunch sometime.” But I struggle to consistently be there so you can pass me in the hall. What you don’t know is that the night before I had a flare- an episode of excruciating pain so intense that I pray that I will pass out to escape. You see, fibromyalgia causes stiffness in the muscles that can only improve by movement. This means I have to continually move my body while being in this paralyzing pain for it to improve. What you don’t know is that these episodes can take days, even weeks for me to recover. These flare episodes can last anywhere from a few seconds, to hours and occasionally days. What you don’t know is the mental toll this takes, how I crave the feeling of “normalcy” while laughing at a joke with a friend, sitting together listening to music and talking about nothing. What you don’t know is the loneliness that is chronic illness.
Most of the time you won’t see me in the hall. God has taught me over the past few years how to be okay with that. And being an introvert kinda works in my favor here! Although, painting and drawing, being with my dogs, and doing chores alone, I still need human interaction! Unlike most friendships, I’m unable to reach out to people equally in a relationship. This means that if someone wants to be friends with me, they will have to reach a little further than in a typical friendship. A lot of the time, this can look like someone having to come to my house to hangout instead of meeting up somewhere because, for example, the weather affects my pain and it just so happens to be storming. I’ve learned the hard way that people my age don’t like to go to each other’s homes to hangout. Just that fact alone really limits the amount of people I’m able to be around! I may have to cancel getting together last minute, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care or don’t want to see people; most of the time it just means I had a flare the night before and need to rest. It’s definitely a different kind of friendship simply because it may seem like you’re doing all the work sometimes. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not giving the friendship my all. I guess giving it my all just looks a little different. To those very few people who I consider my friends, my fellow creatives (you know who you are!), thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for reaching a little further to where I am. And treating me as an equal and you aren’t weird about my health. Thank you for, letting me be my painful, artsy self. You, my friends have blessed my lonely soul more than you will ever know. I feel your love and I hope you feel mine.
