A discussion I had a few weeks ago with my psychiatrist came to the forefront of my mind. This was not an intrusive thought or episodic depression breaking through. Not dysphoria. I can tell the difference now that I am on medication treatment. It is something that I am working through, which is about the emotion of feeling “lonely.” I realized I have never experienced it. Even if I ever did, it is not an emotion I can remember. When did it secretly depart? This realization lingered in my mind.
After the first week on my new med, I experienced the emotion of “loneliness.” I was in my apartment relaxing as usual. My life is somewhat effortless. I have it made. On one particular evening as I worked on a short story, a new feeling pulled at me in a disconcerting manner. I did not like it and was unfamiliar with it. My apartment was cozy, and I had my things around me. I had my freedom. My friends and family were all fine and available; however, this feeling of something I knew not what trailed after me. It was subtle. It barely showed its face and whispered its name–loneliness. It was hollow.
At my next therapy session, I discussed this with my psychiatrist. Our session was moving along as usual in her white clinical office with the bright lights of a surgical room. Perhaps the lights helped her search for the darkest corners within me. She asked me how loneliness felt, and I replied that it was unpleasant. It tugs at things.
My psychiatrist said that I would experience a lot of new emotions and moods on my med. My med would clear a path for them like a pathfinder. That it would take time to learn how to manage them. Manage is the clinical word for feeling an emotion in a more balanced way. Being the curator of my emotions, I was dismayed that I had not noticed that loneliness had been missing from my collection. What I was uncertain of was whether it was stranger to never have felt loneliness or to never have realized it. Perhaps both are equally puzzling.
Surely, I watched it play out on TV, read about it in books, and provided a shoulder for my friends to cry on after their most heartbreaking breakups where they expressed the depths of their loneliness. All those times, I thought I was relating to them, but really, I had not been at all. I had been understanding their loneliness by knowing the definition but not because I was drawing from experience. In order to relate to my world, I substituted the feeling of “longing” because I knew how that felt. However, longing means a yearning desire which is completely different from loneliness. All my life, I had existed in a way where there was no “I” in”loneliness.”
As a person who exists in hypomania, the feeling of loneliness is nonexistent. At least not in my spectrum. Some people would wonder, “What had gone wrong?” or maybe even “What had gone so right?” Because loneliness is such a negative emotion, who would care to feel it? However, loneliness can cause people to form and hold on to attachments to others. The consequences of not feeling it are much greater than I am able to understand at this time. Again, I am working through it. I am fortunate to have a good friend to discuss this with because I trust him implicitly. It is good to have a strong person’s view on these new emotions of mine. His responses in words and facial expressions are my carpenter’s level.
It would seem that hypomania would be a wonderful place to exist in because it is a devil may care feeling. The world is conquerable, but a more important statement that effects practical efforts of daily life, is that everything and I mean everything is possible. This sets me apart from most people. Therefore, my feeling of loneliness is one of the three definitions that pertains to place and defined by Google as, “(of a place) unfrequented and remote.”