I'm Always Alone. No Real Friends, No Partner & No Home.

It's hard to say why I'm telling the story of my loneliness. I suppose I'm hoping to find some kind of peace or clarity with the way my life has been or at the very least, some acceptance. When I was 5 years old, my mother was diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder and manic depression. I watched her disappear into a spiral of despair, drugs and alcohol. I was 7 years old the first time she tried to take her life. I was alone with her in the house with my baby brother while my father was at work. She'd taken an overdose and lost conciousness on the bathroom floor. I dragged her into the hallway, covered her with my minnie mouse duvet from my bed and called the special number that my dad had pre-warned me about - 999. The rest of my childhood was spent looking after her through her illness, caring for my little brother, making meals and keeping the house running until my dad came home because most days she was too depressed to make it out of bed. When I was 10, social services threatened my dad with putting me and my brother into the care of my grandparents if he continued working. My father is a good man, hardworking, caring and a gentleman. I've heard him crying for my mother in the bathroom at night when he thinks I'm asleep. I've seen my mum lash out at him in one of her rages, hitting him and screaming at him and calling him unforgiveable names. I've watched him nurse her, bathe her and spoon feed her with the biggest, most loving smile on his face. But he's loved every day of her and us, so he was forced to quit work so we wouldn't be taken away, leaving us with no money and struggling to make ends meet.

I struggled to make friends at school. I was bullied because everybody knew about my mum. She had me when she was 18 so she was young too. The other kids in my primary school called me names and pushed me around because my mum was "crazy" and "loopy" and it was always just my dad who came to sports days and parents evenings and to pick me up at the end of the day. On good days, when my mum did make an appearance, they called her "a tart" and "a slapper" because she was beautiful and slim and younger than the other mums. They said "tart" and "slapper" because being kids, we hadn't quite learned the words "slag" and "****" just yet. One boy even started a rumour that he'd watched a TV programme about prostitutes and saw my mother on it. I ended up punching that boy in the crotch.

High school wasn't much better. I was more anonymous there, but because of being the outsider in my younger school, I found it hard to reinvent myself into a new person. I didn't trust people, I didn't get them. I didn't know how to talk to the other girls and only made one friend in my first year at high school. When that friend was away though, on holiday or sick, I'd hide in the toilets at break times and sit at a table alone at lunchtimes, eating packed lunches (cheese sandwiches every day) because we couldn't afford for me to have pizza and burgers and chips from the school canteen like the other girls did. And I'd sit there desperately trying to look like I WANTED to sit alone so I could do homework or something, when really I was so sad and lonely I could barely swallow the first bite of my sandwich. I made a couple more friends throughout my time there but by the time I got to college, they'd all gone. To this day, I only have one friend. She was a bit of a loner too and we were inseperable for many many years. A few years ago though, she got a boyfriend and they've recently got engaged and moved in together. I don't see her so much anymore.

Apparently, I'm beautiful. I have baby blue eyes, long natural blonde hair and unblemished skin. I've done some modelling in my late teens to help make ends meet at home and I was once offered a contract to hair model for Nicky Clarke. But when I look in the mirror, I don't see it. I see pale skin, sore puffy eyes and dry lips from breathing through my mouth when my nose is blocked so much from crying. I've only ever had one boyfriend. He cheated on me and left me 2 years ago. I hear he's now married to that girl with a baby on the way. I spent 2 months in bed crying. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep and I lost three stone due to pure grief and depression. I met a man, a wonderful musician and fell in love again 6 months ago and he swore he felt the same. But a couple of months ago, he told me his feelings for me had changed. He still liked me, but he wasn't sure if he loved me just yet and he would like to stop seeing each other seriously and drop to being casual because he's not a ready for a relationship having just signed a deal with a small record company. And because I was and still am in love with him, I agreed because I thought that having him in my life in this small way was better than not having him at all. So now we only see each other once every 2 or 3 weeks. We cuddle up, watch some television and have sex, then he drives me home. I walk through the door, eat dinner alone, watch TV alone and crawl into bed where I cry myself to sleep, wondering for what must be the millioneth time, why he didn't want me to spend the whole night and not just a few hours. I last saw him 2 days ago, so I know I won't be seeing him again for another couple of weeks or so. The thought kills me everytime.

So, I'm alone. I have been my whole life. I live alone and struggle to get out of bed some days because of the sadness and loneliness. I was recently made redundant because of the recession, so I lost the only consistent thing in my life and now I struggle with money and finding another job. I'm in love with and sleep with a man  who I know doesn't love me because the alternative is complete solitude. I'm 24 and I have only one friend. And I haven't seen her in nearly 3 weeks because she's too busy with her fiance picking out wallpaper and carpeting and tiles for her new dream house. Every night I curl up in bed alone in jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt, watching re-runs of 'friends' and 'scrubs' with no frills ready meals for one because thats all I can afford, and then I cry myself to sleep. I'm ashamed of my life. I feel as though my insides are made of metal and I just feel heavy, all day, every day. I'm so lonely I can't breathe sometimes. I've thought about dying. I wouldn't be leaving much behind. I stared long and hard and a bottle of painkillers once and then loathed myself for not even being brave enough to do that. I'm so ashamed of myself and my life and I know it's only me who can change things, but I don't know how. I've been lonely for 20 years. I don't know how to be anything else.

FadedDenimHeart FadedDenimHeart
22-25, F
3 Responses Feb 20, 2010

That guy you're seeing now is just using you.

Wow, that really is a lot to put up with, but you shouldn't be ashamed of your life. I had a grandmother who was schizophrenic and alcoholic but I never really had any personal impact from that other than when she died of her alcoholism. Your dad sounds like a wonderful man who would do anything for his family, just to keep them together I hope you keep in touch. I don't think any of us who have had any form of depression issues sees ourselves the way we really are. You may look at yourself and not see yourself as being as beautiful as you are told, but you modeled so you must be gorgeous and just need some work on your self esteem. Um... I don't know the guy so I can't honestly say anything about that, but he kind of sounds like a jerk to me... It's virtually impossible to meet someone while you're depressed, it scares them off, but if you're ever not so depressed and lonely I bet you would have no problem finding someone else who treats you better.

Hi everybody, I'm british by the way, in case some of the words don't make too much sense. Like, "primary school" means elementary, and "slapper" and "tart" means a ho. "No frills" means the cheapest, unbranded meals and "chips" in my country mean fries, stuff like that. Thank you for reading. x x