Aloneness

Reflecting upon my early years, I have concluded that I was essentially raised as an only child.  My brother got married right before I turned three years old, and I have no memory of him being at home.  My sister got married when I turned five, and I only have a couple of memories from her time at home.  From five on, I had no siblings to interact with.  For that matter, I don't remember my parents interacting with me very much.  In this regard, I would refer the reader to view my earlier blog posting "A Long Time Ago," from October 29, 2014.

Since being alone was my "normal," I didn't think my lone life was abnormal.  There was no brooding, no "my life really sucks,"  I don't know that I really thought that it was a big deal to not have brothers or sisters at home, even though all of my friends seemed to have siblings at home. I had a few neighborhood friends and knew some kids at school, and it seemed like a pretty typical situation outside of my family. I remember thinking that my parents were a little old but that they loved me, not realizing at the time that they didn't often interact with me. I don't recall feeling very lonely, but then, that was many years ago and I don't recall a lot of things.

One of the results of my fairly solitary life was having a rich inner life.  That is, lacking significant interaction with others, and not having a pet, I would have interactions with myself--in my mind. I believe that I got used to thinking about things, to entertain myself with my thoughts, to basically talk to myself, although I don't recall that I actually had verbal conversations!  I lived in my head.

I need to express that I believe that my nature is to be shy and introverted.  I believe that I came to earth this way.  I also believe that the nurture I am writing about provided ample opportunites to be shy and unsure of myself, even though I learned to be "self-sufficient," to take care of myself, to try to make sense of my experiences.   

But because there was precious little emotional interaction, especially with my parents, I can see now that I was hungry for approval, for some response that I was doing okay. In fact, in retrospect, I wanted to have any interaction at all to break through the "aloneness" and shyness of my life.  In retrospect, I believe that there was a sense of emotional abandonment.  

I wrote in the blog posting referred to above about feelings of emotional abandonment from my father.  But there was an interesting dynamic in my relationship with my mother that likewise produced emotional abandonment, of my own doing to be sure.

My mother developed colon cancer when I was very young and had to have major surgery in which part of her colon was removed.  The result was having to have a colostomy for the rest of her life.  Another result was that my mother experienced a "nervous breakdown," or so I was told.  The surgery altered the appearance of her lower torso, and I deduce that it had a chilling effect on my father. I am not sure that there were not other emotional issues present before this occurred with her, but their relationship was not emotionally fulfilling for her. My father never spoke to me about his relationship with my mother. During my growing up years, if my mother thought that my father was either physically or emotionally attaching to something or someone else, especially a woman, it rocked her world.  She could not handle it.  It made her incredibly needy.

The result of this dynamic back then was that since she was unable to have a normal, healthy emotional connection with my father, she turned her neediness onto the only other person in the home--me.  Her neediness for me at times seemed completely smothering. Because it felt overwhelming as I became a teenager and even after I got married, I pushed back, throwing up an emotional boundary to preserve myself.  As such, I felt the need to retreat back into my "aloneness" because I didn't feel safe.

My adult life has been a journey of looking for attachment.  I have often said in therapy that if we do not deal with and try to resolve our childhood issues, they will play out in our adult lives, to our detriment. It has been a journey of hoping that people can reach through my solitude and connect with me, which is really unfair. It has been a burden I have placed unfairly on my wife, and for which I am deeply sorry.  

Because of my shyness and introversion, I costs me somewhat to reach out through my solitude to connect with others.  I have realized that if I want the dynamic to change that it ultimately is up to me to change it, to reach out.  I am responsible to for my own needs, not my spouse or anyone else.  I am not always successful at this endeavor, but "if it is to be, it is up to me."