YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

I’m embarrassed to share this but am out to do a few errands and have the feeling of strangeness and things being surreal. I know it’s probably the result of too much time alone on weekends but it feels like I’m in the wrong time & place, and everyone I know has disappeared. I’m in the city where I grew up but almost no one is still here, except my brother’s family who I don’t see much. The memories overwhelm me in a way I can’t control or limit so I just try to let them come and go on their own. There are memories from this place going back to my childhood but also memories from the places I lived up North before my divorce. I wonder at times if I’ve passed some limit of grief & being alone that I can’t ever heal from.

I haven’t given up but am having a hard time with hope on weekends. I just joined a monthly book club this week, and I called a friend today and will see her next weekend. I have plans to try dating again in about a month. None of that feels real or like it would help. I wish I could see my sisters who are gone, see my brothers family but they would want to see me. I Just don’t want to be so alone.

I apologize for this long message. Nothing new.

Rg

RiverGirl, thank you for sharing. I’m sorry you are experiencing this.

I am not a psychiatrist/psychologist, but is it something like “depersonalization”?

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depersonalization

Oh my Lordy I absolutely understand.

The week after mum died I sold absolutely everything and packed up the boys and took off to Dunedin in the South Island. We literally just left. Poof into a puff of smoke.

I did fly back up twice and under cover so no one knew. As soon as the plane landed I went up the mountain and hiked for long weekends or ran laps!

When we finally made our way back to north island Joe drove up over two days to set up and look for a home.
Matt and I followed a week later. That trip home should have taken us a couple of days but it ended up being over six weeks. We drove from one national park to the mother. Finally we arrived back into our familiar landscape, I felt completely detached, like a stranger in a land I once knew. Matt hadn’t been back for over seven years. He was four when we left.
For weeks I walked around completely separated from the physical city, no familiar faces no place looked the same in a way. New buildings, businesses and people. Immediately I packed up my bags and headed for the mountains as much as I could. Joe noticed I was struggling. I was unable to drive in areas that reminded me of family. I was unable to go to the graves. Divorce was brought up on more than one occasion as I only wanted to be in the mountains.
It took over six months of arguments about a home, about location of living and about living in general. It still hovers over my head and from time to time joe will remind me that my heart is in the hills. He is right.
To this day I don’t feel home. Have moments of detachment and areas of sadness when I pass a home I was once at as a child.

This morning on my jog I went past the home I was abused in, I nod at it and show the ether I remember and carry on.

I only felt home when my grandparents were alive. I only felt home in my Grampys arms. I only felt home when I heard the ocean hitting the shoreline when I lived next to the beach. When the toast popped and Grampy would walk in with my breakfast a flower for nana and the toast with have little dabs of marmite with pure butter. That was home.

Sadly I’m still unable to put pictures on walls or photos on display. That detachment is there but only feels like a cavern when I’m struggling.

You’re not alone on this feeling Rivergirl, deeply understand and sadly carry this familiar feeling.

It doesn’t sound unusual. The isolation and hyper-focus have been pushed beyond a limit; a limit beyond which things get wiggy.

I had this image of someone who lives on apples. They run out of apples and there are only bananas. But they would rather go without than switch to bananas. It’s very simplistic.

Try one banana.

(Not an expert, I just prefer bananas)

I’m deeply embarrassed that I felt a need to post here on my phone while out doing errands.

Oak, my previous therapist called it derealization. My surroundings don’t seem real.

I can tell that you do understand, Mental Fairy. I’m sorry for all the loss and grief behind your understanding.

Beany, do you mean that I might be clinging to the past (the apple)?

My shame doesn’t keep me from being grateful for all of your comments.

rg

I didn’t see ‘past’ or ‘clinging’ or ‘shame’. It’s more something like apples have been so pervasive and relentless, that bananas seem scarce or somehow less nutritious. A banana might not provide anymore relief than an apple. But, depending on where you are at, when bananas are in season, it’s still eating.

It’s still fruity goodness.

RiverGirl, I’m glad you posted.

I, and we, accept you just as you are. We will stand by you.

Feel free to post as much as like. Keep us posted!

Thank you for the explanation, Beany.

I think the things I've been trying this past year or so are attempts to find a new source of emotional connection or nourishment. It doesn't feel like it has been enough, but making an effort feels better than giving up.

This evening something you wrote previously came to my mind. If I remember correctly it was that being lonely isn't your fault or your responsibility to fix. My loneliness can feel like a deep flaw in my character and it leads me to suicidal ideation. Yet to be fair, actions I've taken which exacerbated my loneliness, such as avoidant behavior, at the time felt crucial to my survival. Even the avoidance of a relationship for many years was an attempt at self-protection.

In any case, I feel seen, and the phrase "fruity goodness" made me smile.

A few more thoughts ...

Thank you for standing by me, Oak. Your support these past 10(!) years has been an ongoing source of comfort and inspiration. You are as sturdy and true as your namesake.

Mental Fairy, you paint such a picture of home that I wish you could have some of those moments with your family again, and the comfort of the beach that you remember, and your beloved hills. Your post brought to mind Robert Burns' "My Heart's in the Highlands."

My mom's cat has joined me on my bed, and is stretched out so that nearly the entire length of his body is against my leg. It is comforting, and reminds me that what I need is fairly basic. I'm an animal who seeks the comfort of other animals, to know that I am not alone and to keep me grounded so that I know that I'm still real.

Rivergirl get some rest knowing we care.

The thought of having my home feeling come back makes me feel sick. I know that sounds odd but once having it and then having it taken away hurt more than I thought humanly possible. The thought of allowing it to happen again only to have he removed again is to much to bare.

I am aware my sons life is very sweet to him, he loves my cooking and he has a beautiful life. However it’s only because I provide for him everything I can. My needs come last. My home feeling feels miles away.

Slightly smiling here as I too am on my bed with Mazie beside me laying next to a pile of washing! Wind is blowing and I understand we are in for a cyclone, should go move my rubbish bins but Mazie is to beautiful to leave!