480: Isolated

I am feeling very isolated tonight. Probably, being sick for most of a month is contributing to my sense of discontentment. I have done a lot of soul searching in the last days—nothing new and nothing finished—and I have made some headway into an increased awareness of my behavior and events and stimuli that affect my behavior. Nonetheless, this prevailing underlining of isolation remains. Certainly, some is an environmental causation, that of being alone in the house too much, in recovery, and there is a likelihood because of the fact that my body is out of equilibrium, e.g., increased pulse with decreased blood pressure, that my mood is altered. Yet, even at my best, this interlocking chain of impossible refuge binds me. Increasingly pulling back to the truth of what I am: the fact that most of what I experience has nothing to do with me, and I am some player made to watch the world around me.

Tonight I felt dropped down into the center of a short film, the semi-cute brunette in the dark corner at the table with other ladies ranging in ages, amid a noisy collaboration of loud music, numerous conversations, and clanging dinner wear. I was the girl with the hollowed eyes, appearing lost in herself and far away, never quite sure of her own place, her own whereabouts, or even her own needs. My facial expressions varied to remembering to wear my forced smile to catching myself with expression relaxed staring off into space with furrowed brow and scowl. The act of remaining in a state of appearing semi-interested was effort in itself. The company was kind enough, sweet enough, and nothing to complain about; it wasn’t anything to do with anything else, but me.

The fact that I can be somewhere and be so separated from all that surrounds me is something that has prevailed my life since a small child. I have moments, cherished moments of gleefulness and carefreeness, but there is always, always a price. I lose myself if happiness enters me. It is a type of giddiness unfamiliar to most, a place of childhood like giggles and extreme silliness, a place of over-zealous eager sharing, wherein my actions resemble those of a kid let loose at summer camp about to splash into the pool.

I jump into people or I hide from them as far as I can. I escape entirely in thought or imaginings or I collide with that which is adjacent to me. I am these two variables, and it is painful. To be me in equilibrium is to be connected to my source, to my God, to that which is the All, but to do this requires elements that are not always readily available and a continual focus on love and light that in itself can deplete me. It is akin to holding up a suit of heavy armor all day to push out that which is attempting to invade me.

In the middle state I am content; I am essentially free. I am calm. I am quiet. I am mild and at peace. However, each and everything has the potential to affect my state, anything from a person to the phase of the moon. I become that which is a part of the collective, subjected to a constant wave of transitioning, whilst stepping back and watching this someone I recognize as self carry on through that which is not real. I cannot explain where I go then, except to perhaps a watchtower of sorts, high up above what is happening down below. I am myself but I am not. I am aware but I am not. And I am entirely uncertain if the person who is processing and thinking is the exact personality I am or if I will shift at any minute.

I can be for two hours the constant traveler with rosary partaking in walking meditation around the lake and think that this representation of self is truly me. But then, in the next phase of the day, I am no longer this person at all, and worse I no longer identify with the one I was moments before. It is as if I put on coats of identity all day long. At one moment the quiet librarian-type reading in the quaint cafe, preoccupied by her aging reflection in the window. Another moment, a younger version of myself, perhaps twelve, over-inflated and elated over the prospect of something discovered or overheard. I fluctuate like the weather; moving clouds I am, transitioning in shape and identity; at times in true form blending across sky, at other moments found in the dew drops of daisy’s eyes.

I cannot find myself, because no self exists, and this frightens me. I am what others are around me. I reflect what others project upon me. I become their feelings, their desires, their interests, even their wishes, transforming myself to fit into the groves of their energy. I cannot help this. I become what is in front of me, what I am facing and processing. If one be smart and an elitist, I become this form. If one be cynical and begrudged, I transition to this state as well. Some ways of being are easier than others. Some I want to be, especially those states of unconditional love and acceptance. Other states are hard for me; challenging the most is the waves and vibrations brought on by distrust and anger. Essentially those elements don’t exist inside of me. None of it does, say the love I try to transmit. Yet, I am constantly contaminated. Constantly bombarded with elements of who I am not, even as I know not who I am.

Sitting at the table and playing the part of a fellow human being interested in the talk of the evening is beyond difficult. Difficult I could handle. I am strong. I am wise. I persevere. What is worse than the challenges of communication and presenting myself as part of the crowd, is the continued sense of being not where I am, but projected backwards and away from the situation, analyzing what is there instead of experiencing life. I am pulled backed, in my thoughts yes, but more so out of the arena about me, put somewhere else, or rather I was never there to begin with.

I can watch the people and know things, see things, observe and wonder. There isn’t judgment, not even discernment, just a detecting of varying misgivings, emotions, insecurities, wants and needs. The desire to be heard and seen. The desire to prove one’s self and to reflect back kindness. The desire to get along, establish connection, to share. None of it need be bad, or weighed as this or that. It is at is is, but I am not. I am not this way, and in not being this way I feel rather invisible and unmoved, untouched and extremely isolated. I know that every word out of my mouth is a collection of something or another that is not me; other’s theories, other’s views, a temporary truth spawned from a collection of my previous life times of living. I know that in one way it is only ego sitting there sharing and deliberating. I feel the motivation behind words. I feel the effort, the burden and the heaviness. There doesn’t seem a point to being where I am. What am I learning? What am I doing? Where am I going? Aren’t I supposed to be just enjoying myself leisurely and taking in the scenery? But how does one do that? I have never been able to do that. Nor will I ever.

I am not a casual participant in life, streaming through the river of discourse. I am the observer above, once removed, cautiously aware that every move I make is a representation of someone I am not. I am not comfortable in my own skin, in my own ways, or in whatever I choose to do, least I be out of equilibrium, that giddy opened-up child, who is too often ridiculed, put in her place, and told how to act. The little one who overwhelms new friends and pushes them away. For who am I to invade the space and privacy of another? Who am I, indeed.

There is a fracturing of self I have come so familiar with that I spend my days watching myself transform and transform again. Waiting to see who I will seemingly be next. Wanting to hold on to one state longer than it lasts, and wanting to rid myself of a state sooner than it expires. I am the person who longs to be a person, but who also longs to be somewhere else amongst people who only reflect back to me a currency of truth and trust and unbridled love and acceptance. That is the only place I wish to be.

The tears come, but they are not the batter of depression; they are instead the tears of remembering. The tears of knowing that though I travel decades I remain very much the same wandering child, still adrift in an ocean of nowhere, watching life pass me by, and wondering if ever I will taste what is before me.

17 thoughts on “480: Isolated

  1. some people with aspergers HATE ,DETEST BEING SICK .gives them

    meltdowns very very often. it could be this you feeling isolated

    mark________________________________ > Date: Sat, 1 Mar 2014 05:59:38 +0000 > To: mkentdad12@outlook.com >

  2. I feel your pain, and recognise the “being on the wrong side of the shop window” feeling you describe; but I believe that is how it is for everybody. I find it frustrating that although some things jump out at me as being blindingly obvious, others do not, cannot or will not see them, and I am unable to communicate with them well enough so that they also see. Perhaps that is one of the problems with having acute empathy; others do not have it and so feel cut off from us. This feeling of absorption of the feelings of others, this blinding heat that overwhelms ones sense of self, is it that which cuts you off from your self? Or is our sense of self bigger than we think and so if we look at it through a microscope, hoping to see it better, we see less of it? Perhaps instead we need to use a wide angle lens that can see around corners? Sometimes taking a step back moves us closer to where we want to be. I hope you find where you want to be. Perhaps if you stop looking for it it will appear all on its own? 🙂

  3. Hello Samantha. This post so accurately depicts what I feel a lot of the time. I’m so glad you can put it into words, and I’m so glad to have found your blog. I identify with what you write quite often and I understand. It helps to know I’m not the only one. I hope you will be feeling better very soon.

  4. Take 2 high concentration omega-3 fish oil (Amen Clinic’s brand is best), take 5000iu D3, take 2 B-Stress Complex (Blue Bonnet Nutrition preferred). Within 5-15 minutes releif will settle in, Gauranteed! You may also want to try Amen Clinic’s Serotoin. And, Blue Bonnet Nutrition’s Amino Acids (take 8). The first recommendation works with my family members – very effective. The aminos take away various unexplainable aches and pains as well as muscle and brain support. My wife’s little aches and discomforts in her arms and sometimes with her legs go away when she take the aminos. Interestingly, the supplements do not affect ones personality. They just improve life. And, based on your writings, in my opinion, you have a dynamic personality that will remain. That is a good thing. Have a great day! Mark

  5. Maybe we are all combinations of people we interact with. Maybe because we are so self-aware and analytical we recognize it. Others are also combinations of people but they lack our amazing ability to self analyze.

  6. wow…. you put into worlds what my world has been since childhood. I just in the last year found someone similar to me and we bonded and found what love is. I am also aware now all of this lifetime of issues is from autism without proper help. Only in the past week have I found a new chapter and with the strength of being loved and awareness of my issues, I am suddenly becoming my core self more and more each day.

    Thank you for sharing this is something that I am still with others I come in contact with but I get a break at home with someone who loves me and I do not have to bring up masks in front of him….

  7. I so understand the depths of that ‘lostness’ and soul-despairing grief that you feel. I too, yesterday, as a matter of fact, decided to embrace the gloom by walking and listening to an amazing recording of ‘Lent at Ephesus’. If you have a chance to listen I highly recommend it! For me music like this has amazing therapeutic benefits. I find getting out in nature has a curative effect upon me like no other pharmaceutical could ever have, and compounded with with music that comforts the soul helps lighten those darker days.
    Hang in there!

    1. you are spot on; yes, nature and music, but sometimes I get stuck in that place where I just need to be immobile and move through the gunk; I feel like a computer resting and getting ready to reboot.

  8. Hi there! I soooooooo get what you wrote about that giddiness and extreme silliness!!!! I love those times, but I am aware that I’m looked as if someone is wondering about me, not necessarily bad, but I can see and sense that it is foreign to them is some way. And I guess depending with whom I’m with, sometimes I have felt I have to hold back, like I am embarrassed because I know that somehow my extreme over the top energy is almost uncontainable and I know they may see. It’s like I hide myself so much, all my life, I didn’t realize that. I just knew that being around people caused me extreme stress, nervousness, and anxiety. So good to know others are like me, and that I am not alone in this.

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