I feel loneliness creeping up on me like a fog. I keep trying to move forward, to wave it away, but it never seems to last. It gathers back around me, clinging to my skin like wet clothes. Did I feel this lonely with A? Did I feel this pervading sense of disconnection? I can't even remember. Maybe I was so distracted in trying to fix myself, to be what he wanted, to be "enough" that I didn't have time ore space in my soul to even recognize the loneliness and disconnection. I had a purpose: convince myself and everyone else that he was something he was not. I had a reason to maintain relationships with my family: to prove he wasn't in control , that I was still "me," and to lie about how awesome he was in hopes that I could convince myself he didn't suck every ounce of joy from my world.
That chapter of my life feels like a myth. It is hazy and feels just out of reach. It is dripping in labels and generalizations. Small snapshots I've clung to in retelling me story to old and new relationships. The bullet points I need to prove I was justified in leaving. To remind me and everyone else that I was wronged. I don't know who I was when I look back at the me that stayed. And stayed. I don't know what is real or exaggerated anymore. I don't know A and I certainly don't know myself.
Now I am about to get married again. I am madly in love. He supports my dreams. He encourages me and lifts me up. He tells me I'm smart, and capable, and beautiful and sexy. He trusts me and is faithful. But I am still lonely. I am still disconnected. I still don't know how to have friends. I feel like an outsider in my family. I don't know how to relate to them anymore. I don't know how to fill the space where all of my lies about Andy and our life sat. I don't know how to explain that I am happy, and loved, and supported, but still feel acutely alone.
