Blog, Depression, Life

Trying to cure loneliness only makes it worse

It’s stuff like this which really makes me wonder if I genuinely may be cursed.

If you’ve been following this blog for a good minute, then you may or may not have a decent understanding of what this blog, MrHushHush, is all about. Truthfully, you probably don’t, and that’s perfectly fine, because at times, even I–the blog’s creator–find myself pondering its purpose. Then I think back to that scorching and quiet summer of 2017 in Texas, and remember why I created MrHushHush in the first place:

to find a connection.

man in gray shit sitting on rock boulder
Photo by daffa rayhan zein on Pexels.com

So me and loneliness go way back. Not like friends from high school, but more like Siamese twins. Really, it’s the only relationship I’ve ever been able to hold.

Ahem…

I’ve always had a bit of an issue with the whole communicate and make friends thing everyone seems to love participating in so much. When I was a little, I’d have to stay at my grandma’s a lot while my mom worked, and my grandma–God rest her soul–was extremely agoraphobic. To her, the world was a great big scary place full of scary things, and it was meant to be avoided at all times. She never left her tiny one-bedroom apartment and wouldn’t let me either. Any time I tried hanging out with the other kids in the complex, she’d chase me with a switch (something long and thin used to spank grandchildren), threatening to call the police till I finally went and sat either in front of the TV or in the closet with my toys. (She did this out of love, though).

From there, whenever my mom moved us, she’d have to drag me through the neighborhood and introduce me to kids she didn’t even know. I don’t know if I’d grown accustomed to isolation or what, but I didn’t like talking with people. I was just always that kid people said was “quieter than a mouse.” Even today, I still scare people when I walk up behind them.

Flash forward some years…

When I was 18, my family moved from TX to CA while I stayed in TX for work. We had originally moved to TX from TN, which was where the other half of my family was–so when my mom and brothers moved, I was pretty alone. During those first few years of being on my own, loneliness was the only one who’d pay me any visits. The only one who’d call just to let me know it was there. Constantly. And I was so alone at the time, I actually welcomed its presence. (I actually made a post about this time called, “Don’t you get lonely?”)

But when your hands handle rough surfaces long enough, they develop calluses. After a while, I became accustomed to constantly being alone, like how your body will get used to cold temperatures after enough time of exposure.

Before I knew it, I was saying, “I like being alone.” Still do. And I’m being genuine when I say that, overall, I prefer being by myself. Being alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely. Nowadays I’m rarely lonely, no matter how alone I actually am. Don’t get me wrong, though–I’m not saying I never get lonely, because I do. Humans are a naturally social species and we all crave some form of acceptance, so, not much I can do about that. Fucking DNA.

“Here, the fallen and lonely cry out
Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?
The end of the day, and we’re helpless
Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?”

-Someone to Stay, Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Loneliness definitely still pops up on my caller ID from time to time–similar to a resentful ex. I feel like it’s this deep and dark sink hole that randomly opens up wherever I am (again, the ex thing). It can be easy to slip into; particularly, if it’s raining out. Every so often, I’ll find myself walking along the edge of that vast abyss, and on occasion, yes, I’ll slip and get swallowed up by that darkness. Climbing out isn’t difficult–it just may take some time depending on how hard it’s raining.

Where I typically go wrong is instead of just climbing out and walking away, I’ll sometimes try to fill that hole and get rid of the loneliness altogether. I can never tell what goes wrong exactly–whether I fall back into that same hole or just find a way to dig myself into a new one–but trying to fill it always leaves me worse off than I initially was. You think I’d learn.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.”

I kick my feet into my shoes, grab my keys, and with a sigh, leave the apartment. I walk down the street to the local outdoor shopping center, or maybe I hit up the coffee shop–wherever there’s an unnecessary abundance of people. But as I walk amongst the crowd, instead of relieving myself of the feeling of disconnect, all I notice are the groups of laughter; all the hands being held, the lips being locked. Even as I engage in the superficial “Hi, how are you?” I can’t help but realize that I’m the only one in the crowd who’s alone.

Let’s say I finally go home, deeper in the hole than when I left. I know it’s best to go back to writing, but instead, I pull out my phone and hop on Bumble–that lame ass dating site. When I open the app I see that I have a few connections. I don’t go crazy at see that. At the risk of sounding completely cocky, I actually get quite a few connections; it’s what comes next that digs the hole deeper: talking. Why? Because these girls always want this interaction to be the beginning of a relationship and I suck at communicating, remember? I don’t have the energy nor the interest, but still, I persist. The conversation lasts a few back and forth’s before I finally close the app.

Then, finally, so deep in the hole I can’t even see the surface, I go back to writing.

a person underwater
Photo by Gilbert Cayamo on Pexels.com

It seems like whenever I try to forge a new relationship with someone to fill that hole, it’s a process that feels forced. Like it’s something I have to do as opposed to something I actually want. It’s more of a primal urge, or an instinct. A burden, really. Makes me feel more like an alien trying to act human till I become one. And though relationships aren’t something I actually want, they’re something I want to want. Confusing at all? Yeah.

“I’m holding on
to so much more than I can carry
I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down
If I just let go I’d be set free
Why is everything so heavy?”

-Heavy, Linkin Park

Every time I try to reach out, I’m just reminded of all my flaws. I’m reminded of why I never could in the first place, of why all my previous attempts failed… I’m reminded of my own insecurities and of how I’ll never be able to be who I want to be.

This thing I do where I try to fill my loneliness–it’s but a pointless and vicious, unrelenting fucking cycle that I’m done going around. I only end up digging myself into another, deeper hole. Every time. So now, instead of trying to fill that hole, I simply pull myself from it’s muddy depths and walk away.

So now… instead of stuffing the bio section on my dating profiles with mind-numbingly pointless information about myself, I make it known that I’m only looking for something casual. Something that won’t dig me deeper. Something superficial. Something that isn’t real.

Relationships suck.


 

Hey guys! I updated my About Me page recently if you’d like to read it. I’ve had quite a few life changes this year and the page fills you in on a few (in case you’ve just been dying to know).

Also, I’m officially traveling while living out of my DIY suv camper 🙂 I made a blog and Instagram dedicated to my adventures I’d love for you to checkout. The blog doesn’t have any content yet but I’m working on it! Links are below.

YT header
© 2019 Jordan Antonacci

Blog: http://www.jordanantonacci.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thatguylivinginhiscar/

Okay, talk soon!

-Jordan Antonacci
SnapChat: jtantonacci

One of my favorites.

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