The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly. Not having anyone to care for or anyone to care for me has always been my biggest worry. More than a fear. A prophecy even. Maybe of the self-fulfilling kind. Am I that crazy? I saw my father give up on life in his 50’s and become a tranquillised hermit. He waited another 20 years for the release death finally granted him. I swore that would never happen to me.
For all my practice I am no better at dealing with it now than I was when I was 14 in the secure unit in Wales. Locked in my room from 8pm to 7am. The feelings of abandonment, rejection, fear, confusion and panic feel the same today. You don’t forget times like that. You try. I can still remember the size and colour of the cheap comb they gave me on arrival. Brown, 4 inches long. I am an endless sponge of useless facts and data. I miss the important stuff. Maybe I’m Autistic too. Great! I feel this trauma more than the death of someone close. That I can understand.
And all these years later I am as unwanted and lonely as I was then. Like a lost child wondering was he so bad they had to put him here? Maybe that’s why I hang on when all is lost. Maybe that’s why I just can’t process this. I’m still in that locked ‘room’ (you can’t use the word ‘cell’ for children, but you can lock them up because their parents are inadequate) trying to understand how I got there. I go there every time I suffer major loss and Heartbreak, especially when it’s not clean or friendly. When communication is no longer possible. I take it so personally. I feel it. It takes me over and sends me so far inside myself the few people I do know want nothing to do with me. I try but my mind is consumed with loss. I am traumatised. Like I’ve had a bike accident and hit my head.
Is there a worse form of poverty than loneliness and Isolation? And why is it never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate?