At Age 32, I Realized I was Lonely My Whole Life
What life has taught me.
Loneliness is one of the deepest sufferings a human being can experience.
This is a story about the gnawing kind of loneliness that slowly eats your soul away but mostly stays under the radar. The type of loneliness you might not recognize you are suffering too. After all, you’re surrounded by loved ones, right?
But a part of you still feels alien and misunderstood. You began scribing it off as a personal quirk. You know, this weird thing that only you seem to have?
I realized it’s not just me!
Immeasurable amounts of people are experiencing this exact feeling, isolated on their own little islands. The only way out is to truly start expressing yourself and crush the taboo. So here’s my uncensored story.
Molding Minds
This ain’t no rosy feel-good story. I was an unhappy child. Of course, I recall memories of unworried imaginative play in the magical forests that surrounded my neighborhood.
But at nightfall, I had to go home where my parent’s molding office was. Yo, these people were so invested in their idea of what I should become that I didn’t feel like a person, but a miserable heap of clay instead. From this point forward, I shall refer to my parents as the Clay Masters.
“Mommy knows best”: is what the Clay Mistress yelled.
The Clay Mistress ruled like the Iron Lady. She had strong ideas about the monstrous world she was protecting me from. She was a self-appointed expert on everything.
This woman didn’t need any research, oh no, she simply knew. Only and only if I would follow her every command, I would be safe on this horrifying planet. I owed this womanly creature gratitude and an eternal debt for birthing me — or so I was told.
Any creative way I considered, my little mind couldn’t comprehend the unfairness of the world I was propelled into. “Why am I even here?” I pondered.
The Clay Master, on the other hand, was submissive and passive in nature. He would always take sides with the clay mistress. But on the occasional bright day, he might condole me with some empathy. Oh, I longed for these moments of relief. I survived the cruel disconnect of my childhood on these tidbits of emotional connection.
Let’s not dwell on that.
Mirror, Mirror
Come, my friends! Step into this wonderful time machine with me! We’ll be launched into the magnificent future that is puberty!
“Oh my god, the Clay Masters have no idea about the world!” I cried out. Their godlike status abruptly collapsed on me. I wasn’t a victim to their omnipresence, and I should no longer be molded.
Proud about my newly gained sense of self, I attempted — in the best way I could — to bridge the gap in perception between the Clay Masters’ world and mine. Boy, was I in for a treat!
Here’s what I learned. The Clay Masters had no intention of understanding any perspective other than theirs. It’s not a matter of insight or thoughtful communication. In their brains, the narrow lens with which they view the world is the entire world, complete and utter dominion!
Anyone going out of character in this orchestrated play would cause their unfathomable darkness to come in and was to be corrected immediately.
Simply by existing, I threatened the plot of their carefully constructed web of coping mechanisms. Simply by existing, I was triggering their vulnerabilities and unlearned life lessons. This was my burden.
As the Clay Masters were invested in not feeling any pain or vulnerability. My existence became an intolerable threat to them.
They never wanted to pull me closer or understand my inner world of emotions, they wanted to run from theirs. A child merely holding an inner world was a mirror they couldn’t bear looking into.
Observing the rules of the game clearly for the first time, I did what any sane person — in their puberties — would do. I ran away from home.
The magnificent road to ruin
What an amazing journey life is! In the years to come I would make so many new friends, meet otherworldly people — you know alienated kids exactly like me. We flocked together and squatted empty buildings to survive, but massively enjoyed the ride.
A world of immense freedom I had never tasted before opened up to me. It was wild, juicy, and everything imaginable was now possible. I dwelt in hedonistic raves infused with hard drugs and alcohol. I had found an exciting new family — though I promise you this story is still about loneliness.
Days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years. The initial excitement I found in my new life wore off as I encountered the dark side of substance abuse. Death, decay, and people giving up on life were all around me.
Somehow I had to escape.
“Maybe this magical world we created is merely another form of puppet theater?” dawned upon me. “Maybe I have not transcended my parents paradigm, but simply rewrote it’s storyline?” pierced my mind.
And so the cracks in my fantasy world grew until they disrupted it’s foundation.
The painful revelation
Ready for it?
Here goes: What I was striving to change in the external world actually had to be changed within me. Going from oppression to freedom in the external world wasn’t the total relief I hoped it would be.
The harsh truth was that I didn’t have true freedom in my mind, even though I was dwelling on ideals of freedom and anarchy. Because that’s badass, right?
I was still operating from the programs that my parents had instilled in me. I was taught that emotions were dangerous and harmful, and so were these other alienated kids. In our own way, we were running from our shadows — different storyline, same paradigm.
The perfect heirs to our parents!
My world collapsed. Everything felt artificial, and even though there were plenty of people around me, I was disconnected and downright lonely.
Fact was none of us had learned the tools to communicate our inner worlds successfully. None of us knew how to bridge emotional distance. We weren’t even aware of this lack, because none of us had experienced emotional connection in childhood.
I had always believed loneliness was simply the lack of people in one’s life. I was terribly wrong.
My insights
So here I am now — sobered up by these insights — writing my story. What an epiphany to have at age 32!
Yes, it is intensely painful to admit that you haven’t had nurturing relationships your entire life. But my story isn’t fully written yet.
I remain hopeful because I have gained 3 major insights about loneliness that I can work with — and maybe you can too.
- Loneliness is in your way of relating to people. This means I can learn to do relationships differently, open up and be more vulnerable.
- Loneliness is about not showing your true self in connections. I have learned from my parents that my true self isn’t acceptable. So I don’t show it to others. Hence, my essence is void of company. My power lies in reclaiming authenticity.
- Loneliness is about taboo. By not sharing our stories, we are hiding a part of ourselves. The lonely part that needs connection the most.
I hope my story can serve as a gateway for more people to open up and find company for the lonely parts of themselves. My final message is that it’s not an ugly world out there, seeking to exclude you.
You are not an alien — the only person on the globe doomed to die in solitude — you only have to learn to reconnect. Now that’s manageable!
