Care-taking No More

The past few weeks I have been blocked; not writing very much. I have been listening to Ann, she has been down and I have been listening to her problems. She is lonely and she wants me in Madrid. As an addict and a co-dependent I feel that “pull” the same pull as when I used to drink, that “need”. But this time it is not drink it is a need to leave everything behind and run to help; to be the caretaker.

I resisted the pull this time, I did not jump on a plane and leave my life behind; to go and rescue her. At the same time, I resisted to run away from my life (again) so that nothing is started or achieved, finished or continued.

It was hard, I heard her being depressed and negative and I felt I had to step in and save her. But being someone who recognizes that this is the problem, this to-and-fro’ing between the UK and Spain; is part of the problem of me not sorting my life out. I do not have a home or a job in the UK, as I ran away to Madrid to escape these problems. It was easier to run away to Madrid and hide in a room watching YouTube and ignore the challenges facing me. It was safer to be with Ann, and to hide away in the virtual work of the internet and join her in her addictions (they were not my addictions even, they were hers).

But by staying still, now I have to face reality; and so does she. One of her solutions for our separation was to look for a job in another country, so she chose Finland. But we had never been there before and I did not know what lay before us. So I said “No” to that idea.

Recently she has been asking me what the solution is (as though I had all the answers). I decided that returning to Madrid was not the answer, as we both got sucked into the virtual reality of the internet. So I suggested we go for a holiday to Belgium; a care-free holiday of camping and using public transport; to see where we would end up and to let the days decide what we do. We have our return tickets but other than that we are free to move around, to see people and to experience life.

This was decided and nothing more was said. But because the loneliness did not disappear the question of jobs, living together and future came up again; like it was a new and recent problem (perhaps it is for her?). By not going to Madrid it suddenly dawned on Ann that life was not going to be the same. She could not rely on me to “care-take” any more. I was not going to be there to sacrifice my life; it was going to be a compromise. I will work on myself to get a life in the UK and she will have to start looking for jobs in the UK; and not some country that neither of us had visited before. I wanted a life, I did not want to live her life; I wanted one of my own.

For years Ann had been saying “there are no academic jobs in the UK that suit my field of work”; so she never applied for any. 7 years of not applying for jobs in the UK, or the rest of Europe (anywhere besides Madrid), there was not any to apply for; or she “was not qualified for”; but Ann is a very qualified computer programmer, post-Doc and with lots of experience. So for 7 years I had to go to Spain for us to be together, after all she was the bread-winner, she had a job, I did not.

Now that she realized I was not running to Madrid, she looked for a job. The first was the job in Finland and yesterday there s a job offer in Glasgow! So easy, so quick, as though the jobs just materialized out of nowhere for our benefit.

I feel a bit angry really. I could have saved myself quite a few years of moving backwards and forwards between countries; I could have avoided depressive moments and a few suicide attempts; I could of kept a healthier attitude to life, not suffered anxiety because of flying; I could of perhaps had the mental energy to start my own business in the UK, as was my plan in 2008; and I could of used my research and education to find a job lecturing. I feel a little angry also as she said “I did not mind being a part” that hurt after 7 years of sacrifice.

I gave my job opportunities up to go to a country that did not recognize my topic. Not because of I was asked to do it, but there was “no other option” for us to continue to be together (but there are always other choices aren’t there?). She could not leave her work and there was “no work to get”. So I came to her, because I found sedentary life too difficult after travelling for decades. We fuelled our own addictions, aided and abetted each other’s fears and escapisms; we hid behind each other. Like some addict in a bedsit room with the curtains closed and stale air.

So maybe we will not being going to Belgium after all, as the interview falls on those dates, but maybe…just maybe, we will have a new life to start this year?

Security and Stability

It takes me a while to acclimatize after leaving one environment and going to another. You would have thought I would be used to it by now, after 30+ years of moving around; but I think I never totally got used to it. Spain and the UK have very different life styles; and Ann and I lead very different life styles when compared to other people. My life in the UK is solitary; even though I live in the family home, I am separated. When I live in Spain Ann and I are together but separated by technology.

When I was in Madrid this time I had a conversation with a friend about “workaholics”. She considered herself one; and I did too. But Ann did not see herself as one; but as our friend pointed out “you probably are but you do not see it” I could see rhis met with resistance in Ann’s eyes; but It was refreshing to hear someone else see the problem and not just me.

I had been searching “workaholics” on-line; looking up books and searching for solutions (but I guess that was my co-dependency working over time). I was trying to find a solution for Ann; I thought maybe if she reads it from someone else then she can see what this obsession with work, and what technology is doing to our life together?

All that happened was that I found books for myself to read and our friend’s discussion falling on deaf ears, and Ann saying “I do not have a problem”. But to hear of someone talk about obsession, and compulsive behaviour; addiction and possible root causes, was interesting and refreshing. Living with someone who is in denial is very frustrating. Someone who can not acknowledge that there is a problem is stifling. It stops growth and can lead to me questioning my own recovery.

Yesterday Ann phoned me and she was in a stressed mood. She was lonely and was trying to find away to leave Spain, so that we can live together. Her solution was for both of us to live in Finland. I have never been there before, and she did not even know where it was! There was a job offered and she thought this is all that is needed for us to be together; as long as it was not Spain (as though Spain is the problem).

I was sucked into her offer at first. Again this “paper bag in the wind” scenario that I frequently find myself in, to be blown anywhere the other chooses, without any direction of my own. Even though my situation would be the same – having no job; going to a new country without language; without the things I consider important; this did not seem to bother her too much.

Of course I had to “promise” to be with her always, and not to go back to the UK all the time; I had to find work and I had to do some other things to “make a new home for us”. Of course nothing was said about the reduction in technology; or realizing her obsession with work is one of the reasons why I am lonely in Spain, and why I keep going back to the UK.

I have not lived in Finland but I have lived in the Baltic area and I know the dark nights and cold winter months did not have a positive effect on my depression. For Ann this was not a problem as she had work and her computer and the whole world is the same when you have these. The whole plan did not seem thought out.

It did not take me long, after we had stopped speaking, to see that I did not want this new plan. But if so, then what did I want? Well, I want stability, and I want security. I would like a home of my own, whether that is a small flat or a house or community; but I would like to call it home. I do not call Madrid home, and I cannot call my parents house mine. I think I knew what I wanted 8 years ago when I returned from Egypt; that is to live in an environment that I could build upon. I cannot do this in Madrid and I do not feel I want to take a chance in a country I have never been to before.

If it had been the opposite way around; that I have been living in 1 place for 30 years then perhaps I would welcome the change, but for me change is normal…even boring? I want to be alternative and radical and stay in 1 place more than 3 months at a time, or should I dare hope for 1 year!

Also I want to work…not to make money but to contribute something to my environment, to be a part of some community. For that I need to speak to people and feel comfortable there. This is one of the problems of living in Madrid, I never connected with people as they are too busy working and had no time to socialize…such are capital cities. They are not for me. I can live with Ann and her addictions if I can find my own space, work and hobbies.

Now I do not believe to move somewhere, to start a new life, just because of 1 person is enough. It’s maybe a good reason to begin with, but one needs to find one’s own life there too. It is not enough just to live on the presence of that person. I need a life too… Ann has hers, I need mine.

I followed Ann to Spain, as she was the one who had the job and I did not; but it was never meant to be like this, where I would not be working, it was never our plan. I never intended for Madrid to be my home. Ann looked for work in the UK for 1 year then gave up; she has not been for any interviews since, even though she is very well qualified in her field. She gave up and became “secure and stable” and did not want to change anything; this is fine but it left me unstable and insecure.

I remember her saying how she was “very happy” when at the same time I was feeling “very sad” and I realized how imbalanced we both are as people. I want her to be happy, and I compromised my own happiness to let her be happy. I sacrificed my own contentment, my own job possibilities and my self-worth to let her progress in her career – her addiction. I am responsible for fuelling her addiction and my own co-dependency.

The older I get, or the older I feel… I want security and stability. I do not think Ann can give me that. Only I can give myself that. I cannot make Ann happy unless I make myself happy, and I will not be happy if I am a “paper bag blown in the wind”.

“To the Bone” (an eating disorder film)

Last night I watch the film “To the Bone” a movie about eating disorders. This is not meant to be a film review, but I would like to say watching these films deserve publicity just as much as the latest block-buster.

The acting was good; the actors did a realistic portrayal of suffering from this illness; but I do not think you can capture any addiction topic via a film; you are restricted by budgets, audience, the actor’s health etc. and a general sense of “it is not reality”. And it is not reality, but it can depict reality and depending on the film, this can be achieved by leaving you with a new understanding about the problems involved.

I am not sure if I came away from this film with that sense of a new understanding; perhaps if I had no idea what eating disorders are about, I would have been informed, and in that sense I think it was a strong film for a person to watch, you did learn about the illness. The problem I had with it was that it was for the wealthy, you had to pay for treatment (in the USA) to cure the illness, it was a private clink; and in the UK thankfully, what little resources there are, it is free, but there is not always a happy ending.

In the film the rescue came for people who had money… but not everyone has that luxury, to pay for specialists, with new theories of rehabilitation. And for those who do not have the cash for private solutions… well, they were not touched upon. A lot of the little stories in the narrative might go un-noticed for someone who has no idea about the illness. The film has been well researched and in the credits it says true stories have been included in making the film.

In Spain, we have a colleague whose daughter has a serious eating disorder, and although the film did involve the family of the main character, it did not touch upon the devastation this illness causes to the family. The parents in the film came across as selfish, egocentric or uncaring; but for our Spanish colleague the opposite is the case; families care so much and it can be very destructive on their life style, work, home life and personal life.

It is a CONSTANT battle to stop their child from killing themselves. It is not left up to the doctor to “save the day” it is left up to the untrained parents to cope; and each day/hour/second it takes a toll on their personal lives, a once positive confident person becomes drained and washed out by seeing their child waist away.

An interesting point in the film for me, on a personal level, was the notion of the addict having to reach “rock bottom” before you can see a solution. There is a level one reaches, quite close to the edge when something, somewhere inside tells you to “stop”.

I remember sitting on a window ledge in my friends flat 5 or 6 stories high thinking to jump, I was drunk and I thought it was something I had to do. There was a split second when I thought to do it, just like last September when I thought to ride my bicycle in front of an approaching car. There is a split second when the voice says “do it” then at the same time there is a voice saying “stop” and it is like someone pulling the socket out of the mains, the feeling goes.

There is a turning point and I have had it in my life when I have reached rock bottom. When I have thought to be near breaking point a voice has said “enough now stop this” I pull myself away from going over the edge. I “let it go”. I cannot will it though to happen; it comes from inside of me. I wish I could will it, but I push myself to a certain level of no return, until something takes over and pulls me back. I guess people who do go over the edge ignore, or do not have that last voice inside? I do not know where it comes from, all I know I am grateful for it to be there.

I wish, like in the film, there is hope. People need hope when suffering from addiction or looking after addicts. Because it is about love, a lack of, and having a lot of… Films like these are good to explore issues, but at the end of the film we still have those issues to deal with.

I tried to find films dealing with addictions and co-dependency on-line, and I might share them with this blog. I did not think to do this about films, but I did not have a source to refer too, and if it points someone who reads this on to a film that might help…then why not; either way, it is better than watching a film that makes no sense to one’s life.

The Chicken Senario

My 3 weeks in Spain was a surprise and inevitability. A surprise because I had forgotten what it was like being there; I had been away from Spain for 6 months and in that time I had forgotten how I reacted to my situation. When I found myself in the familiar surroundings of 4 walls and not wanting to go outside and preferring to stay addicted to the computer, I began to lose confidence and I became fearful to explore. So I decided to give in to it, to let it go; a sort of detachment, but not in a recovery sort of way. I gave in to my situation and I decided not to fight it or to worry about it too much. If staying addicted to the computer and if it got me through 3 weeks of 4 walls, then so be it.

Each day I sat at the computer looking at videos, reading on-line about everything and nothing, passing the time, escaping myself. As each day passed I did not even want to go to the local centre and play music; and the 3 weeks I was there I only played music twice. I was cocooned and safe in my 4 walls. I felt time pass me by, and I knew I could not do anything about it. I knew I would be released after the 3 weeks were finished and I could leave the internet.

You see, I can leave it. I can walk away from it when I want too; here in the UK I have other occupations to get me away from the boredom of my life; in Madrid I do not. So it is not that I need a computer here, but I do need something there, a drug, to get me through the day.

My girlfriend (let’s call her Ann, as I like the name) bought a new computer while I was in Spain. So I think we have 3 laptops, 1 desktop, 2 tablets and 4 mobile phones. The ones I have I did not buy, they are hand-me-downs from Ann; I own a laptop in the UK which I bought myself. I do not have a good internet connection in the UK so I only use it for mails and I cannot see images or videos. In Spain I have unlimited internet usage 24/7. Ann carries her phone with her all the time and she uses it all the time… I mean all the time. I would be quite happy without a phone; I do not need it, only occasional use of the internet to post blogs and mails. So I am living Ann’s life style, and giving up my own.

I walk a thin line there; I need this escapism to get me through the day and weeks. If I took away the drug I would be lost. I suffer a lot of depression and anxiety if I cannot escape myself. I fear the boredom, I fear the isolation, and I fear the tediousness of my drug… the same way as I hated the alcohol when I was a teenager… I drank to escape drinking. So I sit at the computer blocking out life because if I stopped the computer I would see how pointless the constant computer use is. I need the drug to get me through the day.

I would go out to the library and write, then I would walk back home, just to get me out of the house for a few hours a day. That walk of 30 minutes each way was a haze, I did not know what I was doing, and I was on autopilot. I kept walking to the route I had worked out…a perfect straight line, so I did not have to think too much. A daze was good, it blotted out people and where I was. A daze was safe, a daze was numbing. I lived in fear in case the librarian asked me a question; I just wanted to get to my desk and write, to forget the world for however long it took me to write.

Days passed, weeks passed and I had to go back to the UK. In the past 8 years I have dreaded going home as I had to fly. I hate flying now, and I have suffered physical illnesses because of it, also really bad depressions and anxiety attacks. When I am in the air I feel like I am in a dream and I am racing towards the earth, I am about to die, then I wake up and I realize I am really racing towards the earth and I am about to die. My dreams are my reality. Every second, every bump I feel we are going down. So that’s how I live my 2.5 hours of flight time, constantly living my death.

This fear starts 2 weeks before I fly. I notice it in myself because I go quiet, I become thoughtful, and I notice I am preparing myself for death. I live a hell, I live a death. I feel everything I am leaving behind, like a life flash-back, I see myself as no more. I do not talk to anyone about this, I have tried but all I get is “it is not logical, flying is the safest mode of transport…” etc. sure, whatever.

So what am I getting out of this life? I live my time in Madrid scared, lonely, addicted to a computer to escape a life that is boring. I also have anxiety about flying and I live in a world that is of my death. I suffer anxiety attacks when I am actually flying; and occasionally I get treated very badly by the security staff at the airports because of my musical instruments that I carry. I feel I am not in control of any of it, and that is frightening. I am not in control of my life. I surrender and I let people do this to me as I cannot say “no”.

I got back to the UK 2 days ago and now I am obsessing about going back there and repeating all of this again in 6 weeks time. Do I have to live fearing life for the next 6 weeks? When do I get a break? When do I start enjoying life? When do I start to stop this “chicken and egg” scenario?

Codependency – some more

About 10 years ago I decided my life was in crises. I had gotten to the stage that I was in a downward spiral and that I needed to change my life. At the same time I came across Melody Beattie’s book “Co-dependency No more” in the city library and, by chance, these things coincided. I could see in print what I was, who I am, and what I need to do to change myself and to get out of my destructive situation.

My messy life had a guide in the shape of a book, and I was determined to follow it to recovery. My problem was not alcohol, I had given alcohol up in 1994, when I walked out of a pub one night and told myself “I did not want to drink any more, I dislike it, it makes me depressive, and I get no pleasure from it”. I kicked the habit over night, but I know it had taken me a long time and a lot of hangovers to get that far. I just wanted to stop; my mind and body had said enough!

But giving up alcohol is only part of the problem, because I believe the addiction is not the substance, but the feeling that causes the abuse of the substance. This is a lot harder to reject as it tells us to destroy that feeling…to destroy us. The war on: drink, drugs, food, sex, gambolling, and all manner of addictions is the surface problem (and a real one too), but the underlying internal problems are what make us turn to these externals in the first place.

I considered myself an alcoholic. I am self diagnosed, but I feel it is a right one. I was drinking through the day, I had progressed/regressed from beers to spirits. I was a secret drinker too; I hid it from people. Also I could not handle my drink; I put myself in embarrassing situations that was dangerous and pathetic. I was not in a relationship, but I hurt people with my drinking (not physically) and I hurt myself.

I did not feel I had any control over my drinking, once I started I could not stop and if I was with a crowd, or a person, who wanted to drink I could not say no. I could not go into a bar and not drink alcohol. I was “fortunate” that I got drunk very easily, so I did not get into financial debt, but I could drink all night and the next day too. Spirits made me ill and I was ill a lot.

I stopped drinking alcohol because for 2 years I had lived in a country, and with people, who did not drink very much, my environment changed very quickly. It was looked down upon to drink a lot. In the UK it is very different and the more you vomit the more you are a man. Over the 2 years I had lived in a foreign country my mind and body had “dried out” like a fruit that has used up its own juices.

Giving up alcohol was a terrible experience mentally; as the “cold Turkey” experience induced a lot of nightmares and day dreams that left me to confront my past and my future. It made me lose confidence and self-esteem and I did not know how to get it back without drinking; and without the drink to bolster me up I sank very low indeed.

So 10 years ago it was not drink that laid me low, it was people. I was addicted to people. I had replaced alcohol with people. Not just any people, but exciting people. People who made me feel good in myself. That same “happiness” that I used to feel after taking a drink was replaced by people who made me feel wanted and important.

The spiral at that time was in the shape of “gossiping”. The person whom I attached myself too was a full-blown professional gossip, he talked about my friends and situations and he “mined” me for information about myself. He was a back-stabber and I thought I was “in his confidence”. He was also a trained psychologist so he knew a bit about personality disorders, I am believe he was using his training to manipulate people, as I was not the first person he had used in this way. Basically I was used and dumped, and I was left with a feeling of being internally raped.

Again my low self-esteem, lack of confidence, and unworthiness filled me. I was desperate, I could not stand my own company and to be alone. I needed others to fill that gap; that void in myself. Just like what being sober left like. To my credit I did not drink, but I did need something.

The book “Co-dependency No More” helped to fill that gap the first time I read it. When I read it I found “me” in a lot of the pages. I identified myself as being co-dependent and dependent at the same time. I learned the meaning of “letting go” and this filled the void most of the time. To know I do not have the power to solve everything or to “rescue” everyone…by listening.

Of course after reading the book twice (not something I generally do) I thought I had solved my problems, I was now a “self contained man” but it is not so. It is not as easy as walking out of a pub and kicking the habit. The habit is with us all the time; inside of us. It is constantly niggling at ones soul, like an itch that needs to be scratched, and knowing when you do scratch it the ease and release will be intensive…but then the problems will start again of addiction.

Dissolving Myself

I started to lose my sense of who I am the 2nd day I got here; I had hoped I would have had the internal tools to last a bit longer. But it seems I slotted into my disappearing act quite effortlessly. All I can describe it as being “dissolving” a separating, a detachment…but not in a recovery sense. I separated myself from myself to the extent that I did not know or see my surroundings. I lived inside of myself to escape myself.

As I arrived at Madrid airport I had left a lot of baggage waiting for me. Not actual luggage but memories. I hoped there would be some good memories there but as I passed through them, as I sat on the bus traveling to the flat, I passed through space and time, and I journeyed through feelings and memories, like a ghost passing through me. But I found no happiness in those memories only loneliness, a sad ghost.

I am alone here. The girlfriend I came and see is working. I have begun to think of her as a “workaholic” but I should not think or write about her here, it is me obsessing about her again, putting the blame onto another, and this is a sign of co-dependency. But the truth is she works a lot, and I am alone a lot. And when I am alone I try and occupy my time creatively.

I used to do this by continuing my work as I did in the UK; and I used to go for bike rides and to do my research. But here I am escaping my surroundings, I am not a part of my surroundings, it is not work, it is an addiction. I am doing these activities to cover up the feelings inside; the feelings of loneliness and emptiness.

It is a very confusing situation being a co-dependent as well as an addict, the two are interchangeable and I often find myself the addict and the co-dependent at the same time. I look after my girlfriend while she works, but the work follows her home and she does not stop.

For example the first morning I got here I slept late, I was very tired. I slept until 12 noon; my girlfriend had woken earlier and done some things…but not her job/work. When I woke she started to work at her lessons and when I went to the supermarket she wanted to work more. When I returned I asked her if she wanted to take-in the last of the daylight and perhaps go for a coffee, she said she needed to work, but she said she would stop working at 9pm and we can watch a film together. At 9pm she was still working and by 10.30pm she was still working and she only stopped as I decided to watch the film without her. She stopped her work then but resumed it after the film was finished. She got to bed at 1.30pm. So about 12 hours of work virtually nonstop, we had spent no time together that day.

But where does that leave me? I come here to see her and spend some time with her, I do not want to be here, and this is how it has been for 8 years. I occupy my time but I do it not out of interest but because I need to do something while she is working. Yesterday was the same, she left at 9am and returned at 9pm and worked until 11pm and we had little time together. I spent my day writing and walking and looking on the internet, but I was lonely all that day and it is the same today, she works from 9am to 9pm.

So I try and fight this loneliness by forgetting myself and the easiest way to do this is via the internet. This is where it is becoming blurred, as I believe the internet is an addiction. Or it can be an addiction for certain people. Since I acknowledge I have an addictive personality I am aware of this potential problem, but others do not.

In the UK I do not carry a mobile around with me, I do not have instant access to the internet 24/7, and I make myself exercise by incorporating it into my daily activities. But I live with someone who is addicted to the internet and to technology… and it becomes more confusing as she works as a computer programmer!

For her technology is part of her normal life and her business life, there is no break, there is no alternative. I do not really know if she sees it as a problem, but for me it is a problem, it affects me and it influences my life to such a degree, that I dislike it, I dislike my life.

It is useless to ask someone to recognize they have an addiction however minor, if they do not see it themselves; then it will always be someone else’s problem. So I am not going to chase after them recommending self-help books or asking them to realize that they have an addiction to work and technology; that all of this is pushing our relationship onto the rocks. I have done it before… but it did not have any result. I am here, but I hate it. Perhaps that shows I have already seen the problem from the outside, and I am not living inside the problem any longer… I do not know?

The real problem I am facing right now is I am dislocating myself from my surroundings; I am obsessing and thinking negative thoughts about her, me and life in general. It is not healthy.

Afraid to Say No

Why am I going, and what for? I have even lost the reasons, why I am travelling to see someone? I keep asking myself for reasons, why I am going to Spain? I hate travelling now, I used to love it, but now I hate it. So if I am not going for the love of travel, if I am not going for the love on the culture and country I am visiting, if I am not going for the experience. Why am I going?

I feel inside like I am “kicking and screaming” not to go. Like I am being dragged there, as though it is an obligation; to please others, or just to please one person. Only one person is getting a kick out of this, and it is not me.

When I am in Spain I ask myself “who am I”? I really ask myself that question, as I do not know who I am when I am there; I lose my confidence, I lose my identity. It is a horrible feeling not to know ones identity…to admit that to myself.

When people ask me “what is your job?” or “what have you been doing?” I freeze; I am blank inside, I say to myself “should I answer them with a funny comment”? Or perhaps I should engage them in a meaningful conversation of what they mean by ‘work’? An internal argument follows until I get so sick of it. I am afraid of these questions, as I do not know the answer, as I do not know who or what I am.

I am justifying myself to myself and to others, I am trying to have an explanation of who I am and why I am there. But the truth is I do not know who I am or what I am doing there any more; because I am there for someone else. I am not there by choice, I am not there because I wish or desire to go. In fact it is the opposite, I am there because I feel I have to go, obliged to go, a duty to go.

I hate the whole process of travelling these days, it is so stressful. Tonight is the first time I am leaving the UK overland, and not flying out. Because I hate flying now, the whole experience is stressful from the UK, it is humiliating and confrontational.

I have suffered too much with nervous exhaustion and anxiety. So now I am getting out of the UK overland, so I can fly from Belgium. It is crazy eh? I think it is crazy. All that time and effort to go somewhere (where I do not wish to go), only to find I have lost my identity, so I can please another person. When I think of it like this I am stupid, really stupid.

I can’t say “No” I feel guilty to say “No, I am not coming this time…or any time soon”. I cannot say it. Why? Am I afraid to disappoint? Do I have good enough reasons not to go? What am I doing here (in the UK) to justify me not going? Am I being realistic? Am I being depressive? Is it an illness or part of my illness that causes me to think like that? What if I just go and take what comes…like a paper bag blown in the wind (again); with no direction or plan what to do when I am there?

I do not know why I want to stay in one place right now; maybe it is because since 1983 I have been travelling, living out of a rucksack…sleeping here, there and everywhere. Maybe this is why I am so tired…so tired inside. I want to stay in 1 place, and I want some security. For the past 9 years I have been “commuting” to Spain every month, a month here, a month there…back and forwards like a yo-yo. I cannot start anything here, nor can I start anything there. I am constantly going backwards and forward to please others, to fulfil a duty to others, and not to myself.

I have become so dizzy, the only place I think of home is 25.000ft in the air with ryanair! I do all this because I have to…that’s how I see it. I do not have a choice…that’s how I see it. I was afraid to say “No”. I keep “chickening out” when the time comes; I intend to say “enough is enough I cannot do this any more” but when I am confronted by the guilt I say “OK, this time”, does that make me a liar…to myself?

Planning not to Organize

In the summer of 2017 I sort of had a melt down. I do not call it a breakdown, it was not that drastic. It was more of a semi-break down. I liken it to when your computer “hangs”; it stalls and does not move. I have to knock it off at the mains and re-boot it.

All my life I had been making plans, I was a one for making lists and planing a future, and putting those plans into action. For example I was a traveller, I was the organizer of summer holidays to the nature, camping, travelling etc. The summer of 2017 I had come from a folk festival in Glasgow/Scotland and I was full of energy, I was buzzing with plans and ideas and enthusiastic attainable goals. I had other plans for that summer too and that trip to Glasgow had helped me to face them all.

Then one after the other those plans did not happen. I found myself cancelling them, or finding reasons not to go. My girl-friend was visiting me and we were going to go on these travels together. It was her holidays, her free time.

But each plan turned into stagnation, and I got really confused. I felt I could not organize anything any more. I could not make a decision as they did not happen. I could not even decide on simple things around the house. My girl-friend wanted to go places and I was making excuses not to go. In the end I gave the responsibility to her. I could not do anything myself so I said “if you want to go on holiday please arrange it as I can not seem to do so at the moment”. She did not/could not and we stayed home. Even local events were beyond our organizing.

I did not know what was happening to me. I just could not organize anything or make any decision; even think what I would do that day. This feeling lasted for weeks, even when my girl-friend had gone home I still could not function properly.

In September it was my turn to visit my girl-friend, but I made the decision not to go. I had been going to Spain for years to see her, but this time I had to tell her I could not go, I can not face the organization of the tickets, of the journey, or the physical movement to go. She was disappointed but she understood, I was burned out. I did not feel good about that decision either, was I being stupid? I was letting people down in Spain also, people I had made plans to meet.

So I stayed home in the UK, and I have been home (at my parents house) for months. Not going out, not going anywhere. Just staying in my room, reading and writing. I needed to stay still, I could not face organizing anything any more that involved travelling. I just needed to be by myself. to stop the world from spinning, to centre myself and to take some control of staying “together”.

Those months alone led me to write this blog. Being alone in my room has brought up a lot of issues I have been experiencing over a number of years. Issues I have not faced, feelings I have ignored, a feeling of living my life for others. Now I feel anger, I feel a sense of loss and regret; I also feel a finality and powerlessness.

In September/October 2017 I had two occasions when I wanted to kill myself. On both occasions felt an urge, a split second of utter willingness, to turn my bicycle into the path of an on coming car.  I did not, because I also felt in that split second that death is the same as life. There is no difference, both are meaningless. Both require energy and a will, and I did not believe it was any good to do either…to live or to die, it was the same.

Things have gotten better since then, as I decided to stay home and be by myself, and that has given me a time to reflect and get myself together a little bit. Now I feel I can venture out to visit my girl-friend and to make a commitment to try and change my life. I do not believe I will find a “happy ever after” solution. No way. But I just hope I can find a reason to be…a purpose to my existence.

Festive Duties

I am not into Xmas or New Year’s Eve festivities, also I am not into birthdays, or any occasion where I believe people are getting together and enjoying themselves. It is not because I am alone…and lonely (which I am); it is also not because I dislike other people enjoying themselves (which I do). It is because I feel time passing.

I have had this feeling since a teenager, a feeling of time slipping away and I am loosing out on life. I can not define what life is, but it is a feeling of me loosing it. It feels like I am not being a part of something that is important. Or having missed an opportunity, something important to my future.

It is also a feeling of passing by, of neglect and missing. I long for that festive occasion to happen and when it comes I would be able to share in it, for it to enhance me and to nurture me, and to share it with others. I would be a different person by sharing the experience. But it never does and all I receive is a regret and a sense of loss, of time passing, and of urgency to catch up and to replace the time that has escaped me (which is impossible of course).

as a youngster I remember my birthdays and Xmas’s as being a happy affair, and now I see them as a lonely affair. So am I missing the the past, the feeling of belonging and being a part of something? Or is it just a feeling of being the centre of attention? Opening the presents and being loved? That I miss?

I did not have a great childhood, my parents fought all the time, but there was a truce at Xmas’s and birthdays and we all had a sense of belonging and families coming together. My parents and my uncles/aunts/cousins all used to meet up and our Xmas’s lasted for 3 days. I guess it is like this in the USA when I hear of the “thanks giving” festivities; families coming together (at least in theory) and sharing some time together. My Xmas used to be like that, of people coming together. On birthday we had the local kids come round, friends came round, we played games and ate, drank and we had a good time; and I felt part of a family, and an extended family.

But even then I remember one occasion when I had to choose between staying with my friends and an offer to go on an outing with my cousins. I choose the stay with my friends. The offer went by and my cousins left. A few minutes later my friends went home, and I had chosen wrong. I was alone. That feeling of loss, of loosing an opportunity, making a bad decision, of not being with people; as acute then as it is now.

Life is so different now. I spend my birthdays alone, and even giving myself a “treat” or doing something different is always done alone. There is no one I can share these occasions with, well no one close by. Xmas I share with my parents, but it is not the same as sharing it with someone who is on the same “wave length” as your self; it is not the same. I come home for them, I do it for them. I guess I would be somewhere else if I had the choice. On New Year’s eve my mother goes to a local dance, and I sit at home.

I do have that choice of course, of not coming home; but I have a sense of duty, or my sense of what duty is; I should be there for them. But I am not sure if I am doing them any good? I am not doing myself any good that’s for sure. But I have this feeling of “being there for them”. I am trying to take care of them in my own way, but maybe I am “care-taking” them, giving up my life so they can be happier? But it is so hard to break away, especially the older they get…and the older I get. Their home has become my home, and they like the security I bring to the house and I find it harder to establish myself away from the family home.

So no solutions, no New Years resolutions, just the same numbness and no plans.

Introduction

Sometimes a feeling of deep depression over comes me. When this happens I get desperate and I turn to others for help. But I find the people I turn too for help either can not help or they are no longer there.  So I am alone.

When I find I am on my own, I get very desperate inside. I turn to other things to escape from my feelings. This used to be drink, I drank alcohol a lot, then I gave it up, unless I am in a situation where I have no choice…but more of this later.

The people I turn too can not help me. Why? because I believe I can only help me.  Because however much I try and get other people to “fix me” I know it is not true. This emptiness and depression is inside of me. Wanting others to fill that void is why I get into situations that I can not get out of, and I get my self into a mess, and I am co-dependent.

But although I know what needs to be done, I can not fix it? How can you experience something you have never had before. where there is no “experience” of… it is like there is an alternative universe, it may exist out there, but until you experience it it is always unreachable.