Holidays and family are supposed to bring joy, love, and hope. They are known for gatherings and good company. This year, people are going to extraordinary lengths to connect with loved ones from a distance to maintain any sense of normalcy.
Here I sit, surrounded by my little family, and I’m feeling more alone than maybe ever before.
Oh, the scorn I would feel if people knew how I was taking being able to gather for granted.
There’s so much pressure when you come back to family; pressure to assume the same roles and to put on the same shoes, to live behind the same façade, to do the same pretending.
“I’m happy.”
“Everything is fine.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
“I love the holidays.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
When you celebrate with the same family in your broken childhood home, it feels different as you get older. Everyone pretends they’re the same and that we can’t see all the cracks.
I’ve never felt so lonely- pretending I’m the me they know, when I’m the me that I know. I don’t feel comfortable around them. I don’t feel comfortable with myself. I am not happy. I’d rather be with people who love me for being me, who would love me if they really knew me.
I want to die but here I am celebrating trivial things and faking a smile.
My heart aches and my chest hurts from pure loneliness.
The forced joy of the season makes this feeling so much worse. Don’t get me wrong, this is nothing new to me. The global circumstances just make the guilt bigger too. How dare I feel this way when I’m so fortunate?
I’ve come full circle to where it’s truly a pain to live again. I’ve been here before. It’s almost as if all the work I’ve done to leave this place never happened. I’m stuck going in circles; the struggle is perpetual.
Am I lonely or am I alone?
Lonely. Always lonely.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
If you or someone you know needs support right now, there is help available.
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