A further investigation through writing into my emotions.
I wanted to write, in this blog, about something I feel quite regularly that up until now I believed was pretty indescribable. I’m going to hash it out and give it a try, partly to see if others get this and partly because this whole process I’m going through at the moment is one of trying to understand my situation and get past it. I’m calling this feeling the disconnect.
The disconnect is usually a feeling I’d associate with suicidal thoughts and loneliness. I don’t have to be incredibly low to feel it or seemingly low at all, although I think I often feel it when I’m just trying to go along, get on with things, without awareness of the emptiness and depression, desperation that I’m actually feeling. At times, if I do not make an active effort to use the mindfulness skills I am learning, even when I don’t want to, my life can feel like a task of trying to constantly distract myself. The disconnect is self-explanatory really, its this feeling I can get from observing, being the outsider or even when I’m in the midst of things where I’m just watching it all go by,like the world, my life lacks reality. And my death in all of this would not really make a difference, nor disrupt the busyness of the 7 billion. I guess the thought of suicide just aways manages to creep in even if I try not to dwell on it. Feeling the disconnect is a pit of the stomach feeling, a back of the mind feeling it asks why I’d want to be part of a state of such emptiness and unreality or indeed why I need to be, given that I make no difference.
The despair, it’s horrific, but this disconnect often gets me there. It’s the part of life trying to manage my illness that is always there niggling. When I’m at a meal with friends and I don’t feel part of it, despite outwardly laughing and talking, there is another reality going on in my head- one of disconnect. When I’m trying to study, it’s there. Even when I’ve done something I’ve loved and can be feeling great, I cannot distract from it, avoid it, or even address it- it is the part of me that truly truly cannot understand what difference I make to the world being alive or if I was dead, the living and the being part of it all. And it’s often the reason I will cancel on friends, or not go out of the house because there is only one thing worse than feeling this alone in bed, and it’s feeling it amongst a crowd, who appear to love me, whilst I appear to be contributing and enjoying myself. But what’s the point in explaining it, I can’t, and it’s there too much to have a sit down and discuss it anyway. I wish this disconnect would leave me because the despair it comes and goes, its unbearable but its transient but I cannot imagine living a life where this disconnect is with me the whole time. I would not live a life shared with this disconnect.