I wrote this in 2014, and am republishing it now after reading Eva Wiseman’s piece in the Guardian. Some has changed- I have a baby, I see my husband a lot more now he’s a stay at home dad, so I feel less lonely, more that I belong, somewhere (if not anywhere else).
I’ve written about pissing into bottles when I’ve been depressed, and yet to me, this is a blog whose responses I fear the most. Because admitting that you’re lonely seems to be the most shaming thing you can do. We’re meant to be glitzy! Instagramming! Vineing our awesome lives! And this will sound like one long self pitying tract, which it is, really. All I want from it is to get some thoughts out of my system. It is not a plea for contact because as I will explain I must do those things on my own terms and not be forced into them or feel obligated because I find that scary and overwhelming. Like someone who hasn’t eaten for a bit- I’ll be sick and not want to eat again if I have a big meal. I need to have little nourishing small things that I am comfortable with.
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Filed under: Mental health