I Feel Alone.

A few days ago, I watched a video about how even though we are the most connected to others than we have ever been--thanks to social media like Facebook, Twitter, Foursquare, YouTube, Tumblr, Pintrest, etc and things like smartphones and texting that make anyone easily accessible--we are more lonely than we have ever been. I've linked the video here: 

After watching it a third time, it still makes my head spin when I watch it, but it also makes so much sense if you really think about the message it contains. 

Today, I was sitting in church next to my dad and he had his arm around me, like he usually does every Sunday we're in church together.  I was surrounded by a sea of people, most of whom had watched me grow from a first grader into a college sophomore.  I was surrounded, essentially, entirely by my family. 

And I felt completely alone. 

Right before the service began, I had a conversation with a lifelong friend about all that has been happening in my life, if being home was being helpful, how I was feeling, and it ended, like all of these conversations do, with her saying something to the effect of 'Let me know if you ever need anything. I'm here for you, and I love you.' 

So many people have told me that recently. And I very well know that I am not, in fact, alone. I have friends here who have tried to get together with me, but I've just been too tired or just not wanted to be social. I've received letters and care packages from school friends. I've gotten daily texts from some of my closest friends. And on the rare occasions that I have ventured out into the real world, one that is not my house or treatment, I've spent a couple quality hours with people who have been in similar situations. 

But I still feel alone. 

I don't know if I would say that I feel 'lonely,' because I don't think that's what I'm feeling. Lonely to me means missing people you care about, and although I do miss Gettysburg friends and home friends and extended family, that's not what is consuming me. It's the feeling of isolation, of not being understood, of not being fully known or heard, of people just not 'getting' me. The feeling of being alone. 

I know this has to do with my depression and my eating disorder. The two of them are not mutually exclusive from each other--experts still cannot determine a causal relationship between the two things, just that they tend to be highly correlated. But both add to this feeling of alone-ness, or isolation if you will. 

So even in those moments where I am not physically isolating myself, in the moments where I am not letting my social anxiety win, in the moments where I am not actually alone, the feeling of isolation and alone-ness is still there and it feels more present than it does when I am physically alone. 

Maybe this feeling of isolation and alone-ness has to do with my lack of vulnerability in these social situations.  All morning I was answering questions of 'How's school?' 'Are you glad to have had some time off?' 'Are you looking forward to winter break?' as if nothing were wrong. As if, in fact, I was making the five hour trek back to Gettysburg to have one more week of classes, a week of finals, and then over a month off for winter break. Maybe I need to be more vulnerable. 

Or maybe it has to do with the idea that I'm not constantly surrounded by my friends or that I can walk to class and pass four of my closest friends along the way. Maybe it is actual loneliness because some of those who know me best are not present, here, with me. 

Maybe it has to do with my being an introvert and not feeling fulfilled and cared for in large group settings, like church or like family Thanksgiving. But even in the one-on-one contact that I've had with people where I've been vulnerable and open, I have still felt alone. 

But mostly, my feeling alone has to do with the illness. The fact that I suffer from anorexia and depression and anxiety and that person sitting next to me does not. Or that person sitting across the room, although he or she may also suffer from depression, he or she does not also have an eating disorder and anxiety. The fact that I, alone, am being attacked by this specific illness and this specific combination of comorbid conditions makes me feel alone. 

Our culture puts such an emphasis on individuality, and I've been reading about it all semester in social psychology and how different psychological phenomena are experienced differently in collectivist cultures. If I lived in such a culture, would I feel any less alone right now? Probably not. 

Eating disorders are very individualized. Every person who suffers from any type of eating disorder suffers differently. That's why treatment must be individualized to the person in order for it to be effective. My eating disorder is not the same as any of the other people sitting in DTP with me or anyone else who has gone through CCED or suffered with an ED. 

I feel alone because psychologically, I am alone right now. 

This is one of those posts that isn't going to be wrapped up all nice and pretty and topped with a bow. This feeling of alone-ness is not going to go away just by placing myself in a room full of people, or a small group of people that know me well, or even in a room full of people who 'get it.' Because I will still feel alone. No matter how many letters I receive, texts and emails I get, words of encouragement I am told--the feeling of being alone remains.

And in this moment, sitting with this alone-ness and the discomfort it brings is just going to be something that I have to do. 

And maybe, one day, it won't be here anymore. 

Passing Judgement Instead of Extending Love

Rainy days and people always get me down... 

I don't know what's been happening since I left my Gettysburg family for my camp "family" this summer.  At this point, I honestly have no idea if what I'm feeling is just me or if there's a real thing happening here.  But I know what I feel. 

See, ever since staff training began, I've just felt completely excluded here. Like I am not cared about and not wanted in this place. It's not everyone on staff that's been making me feel this way, but a handful of people.  And it's this handful of people that I interact with on a day-to-day basis that are making it the worst. 

For the week of staff training, I pushed it off as being "I'm a introvert. I don't function well or feel fulfilled in situations that have large numbers of people all interacting at the same time."  But then week one happened.  And in the midst of my safe haven, the role that I felt the most comfortable in, the true cliquey nature of the camp staff appeared. 

It started out simply as three fellow staff members reprimanding me and getting upset with me for doing what my boss told me to do. Excuse me, but I don't see why they felt it necessary to accuse me and blame me for doing what I was told. 

And then on Tuesday morning, they felt it was necessary to scold me for doing what, according to our policies, was absolutely nothing wrong, but because they apparently have something against me, I was yelled at and criticized and judged. For absolutely no reason. 

And to that, I simply retorted in an unpleasant manner, "I've worked here before. I know the rules. I'm not breaking any of them."  Then I walked away. And cried. 

Middle school drama does not belong in this place. It does not belong in a place where we expect no judgement from the kids and judge each other. It does not belong in a place where we accept all people and yet exclude and isolate one of our staff. It does not belong here. 

But it is. 

And I was really trying hard to not be judgemental and unloving towards a single one of them because I know that we are all human and that we are not anywhere close to perfect, but I was hurt and that hurt turned to anger and that anger made me want to justify how I was feeling, which led me to judgement. 

She hates me because she isn't as good at this as I am. 

He doesn't like me because I'm not like her, so he's stuck up. 

She hates me for God knows what reason. 

And in that same breath, as I was judging their actions towards me, I was judging their performance of their job. 

That's not how you act as a counselor!  

What's wrong with you?!  Sitting with other counselors and staring at your phone is not what you do. You're lazy. 

It's your fault she got cut with the box cutter. If you had been over here supervising, then she wouldn't have had to go to the hospital. 

You're lazy. You're incompetent. You're a bitch. You're selfish. You're an asshole. You're prideful. You don't care about anyone but yourself. Why are you here?! 

Oh wait. 

I'm no better than they are.

I'm passing judgement on them. 

See, here's the thing:  I am not here for the approval of my fellow staff.  Honestly, I'm not going to talk to any of these people again unless I work here next summer or see them around. I another four weeks, this nightmare will all be over. 

And in my narrowmindedness and hatred of these people, I am not seeing them as people who are not perfect, just as I am. I do not truly, truly know any of these people deeply and they do not know me. So where do I find the power and acceptability to pass judgement on them? 

So for the rest of this summer, I'm going to try to love people instead of judging them. My Meyers-Briggs assessment says that I have a judging personality, and I'm human, so it's going to be challenging. But as a Christian, it's what I am called to do. No exceptions. 

And as for how I feel and the rejection and hate and everything else that I feel, I don't know. I have my God. And I have friends with encouragement and love. And no matter what I feel is true, I know the truth: 

I am loved. 

I am accepted. 

I belong. 

Roommate.

“Why am I so anxious? And then it hits me. I'm not anxious, I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be so lonely because it seems catastrophic - seeing the car just as it hits you.” 

(Augusten Burroughs)

Today, my new roommate moved in.  It's a big change.  I had just gotten used to spending the days by myself without Megan or anyone else in my room.  I had gotten used to being lonely.  

I was used to the late nights and late mornings. 

To an empty bed and an empty desk. 

To being able to walk around my room naked.

And now I have to share it again. 

With a stranger. 

This is scary.  

Honestly, what if she doesn't like me? 

What if I'm not a good roommate? 

What if I don't like her? 

What if she's not a good roommate? 

What if we fight? 

I don't even know her and I agreed to let her move in with me.

But I agreed.  I based my decision on my gut.  On how I felt after that first meeting.  And my gut is usually right.  This is just a change. 

A change of lifestyle. 

A change of living. 

A change of pace. 

Change is good. 

It makes us strong.

Breathe.  Pray.  Trust. 

God knows what He's doing. 

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” 

(Lao Tzu)

Struggling.

Why is it that when we struggle, we are so ashamed to let other people know about it? 
Why is it that we have such a fear of failure?
Why is it that it is so easy to lie and to shut down when we struggle? 

Today, I was having dinner with a very wonderful sister.  And one of the first questions out of her mouth was:  "How are you?" 

I'm okay.

That was such a lie. 

She knew it.  I knew it.  God knew it. 

But here's the thing, even when she asked me about something very close to the thing I was struggling with, I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth about what's been going on in my life. 

Because the truth is scary.

It's so much easier to hide from the pain.  To take a pill to make me numb and not have to work this all out.  To hide from people so that they won't notice that I'm not okay.  To comfort someone else, when it's you who needs the comforting. 

Let's be honest here: 

Life is hard.  And it hurts.  And gosh darn it, we need each other. 

But living authentically, saying what is in our hearts, what is paining us, what we are struggling with, it sucks. 

Because what if that means I'm failing? 

What if that means you won't love me? 

What if that means that I'm not who you want me to be? 

But here's the thing about eating disorders and depression: 

Your recovery grows in proportion to your level of honesty and communication with those around you who love you.

There are no secrets in recovery. 

And there should be no secrets between sisters.

Especially when you know that they will only continue to love you.

So here goes nothing. 

I'm struggling. 

I'm struggling with my depression and eating disorder. 

I'm struggling with being around people and being social. 

I'm struggling with asking for help. 

I'm struggling with admitting to myself that I may still need help.  

I'm struggling with the idea of Jesus. 

I'm struggling with shame. 

I'm struggling with my view of myself. 

I'm struggling with my view of others. 

And I'm hurting. 

So very much. 

There's this voice in my head that tells me that I need to have this together right now. That I either need to have all of this together or that I need to allow myself to completely relapse into the point of not functioning so that it would be more acceptable that I am struggling. 

What kind of twisted thinking is this? 

Friends, I'm struggling and I'm hurting. 

I need you to know that. 

And I need you to know that I'm struggling to reach out and tell you that.  

That I don't know how to say those words to you.  

That I don't know how to say that I need Jesus, that I don't know how to say that I'm failing, that I don't know how to be okay. 

And somehow, this all has to be okay with me. 

I have to make peace with the fact that I struggle and will continue to struggle. 

I have to learn how to not be ashamed of being that girl who is in a continual fight with herself and her demons. 

Will I stop feeling this way? 

Will I ever stop struggling? 

I don't have the answers. 

I just have to keep walking through this mess. 

To keep struggling. 

And maybe, just maybe, this will all one day be a distant memory. 

One can always hope.

How to be Alone

A beautiful poem by Tanya Davis.

If you are at first lonely, be patient.

If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.

We can start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library, where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books; you’re not supposed to talk much anyway so it’s safe there.

There is also the gym, if you’re shy, you can hang out with yourself and mirrors, you can put headphones in.

Then there’s public transportation, because we all gotta go places.
And there’s prayer and mediation, no one will think less if your hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.

Start simple. Things you may have previously avoided based on your avoid being alone principles.

The lunch counter, where you will be surrounded by chow downers, employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town, and they, like you, will be alone.

Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.

When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner; a restaurant with linen and Silverware. You’re no less an intriguing a person when you are eating solo desert and cleaning the whip cream from the dish with your finger. In fact, some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.

Go to the movies. Where it’s dark and soothing, alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.

And then take yourself out dancing, to a club where no one knows you, stand on the outside of the floor until the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching because they’re probably not. And if they are, assume it is with best human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats, is after-all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating. And beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things. Down your back, like a book of blessings.

Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you. Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, they are always statues to talk to, and benches made for sitting gives strangers a shared existence if only for a minute, and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversation you get in by sitting alone on benches, might have never happened had you not been there by yourself.

Society is afraid of alone though. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after awhile nobody is dating them.

But lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it.

You can stand swathed by groups and mobs or hands with your partner, look both further and farther in the endless quest for company.

But no one is in your head. And by the time you translate your thoughts an essence of them maybe lost or perhaps it is just kept. Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those “sappy slogans” from pre-school over to high school groaning, we’re tokens for holding the lonely at bay.

Cause if you’re happy in your head, then solitude is blessed, and alone is okay.

It’s okay if no one believes like you, all experience is unique, no one has the same synapses, can’t think like you, for this be relieved, keeps things interesting, life’s magic things in reach, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t connected, and the community is not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it.

Take silence and respect it.

If you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it, if your family doesn’t get you or a religious sect is not meant for you, don’t obsess about it.

You could be in an instant surrounded if you need it.

If your heart is bleeding, make the best of it.

There is heat in freezing, be a testament.