Loneliness in Love

 

Falling in love has been one of the most profound experiences I have had in a long, long time. I am astonished, immensely grateful, terrified, and challenged every day by this amazing thing I have stumbled into with this amazing, equally flawed,  equally tenacious, wonderfully bizarre and brilliant person I get to share it with. However, one thing that has really blindsided me is how incredibly lonely of an experience being in love is at times. Not lonely in the sense of being apart from the person I love, that is it's own topic and is fully expected in a long distance relationship. I am talking about a sudden sense of estrangement I have experienced from almost everyone else in my life. This happened literally in the space of 48 hours, from the time I met this person to the time he left my home 2 days after Christmas. The world looked one way before I opened the door to see him for the first time, and looked another way minutes after he kissed my forehead, reassured me that everything was going to be ok, and then drove away. I am grappling with this new world, created entirely by a powerful, internal shift that I don't understand and never could have seen coming. 

Things that held my attention and fascination, or that I felt were of life-or-death importance, have dulled and faded slightly. It's not that they are not important, they still are, they have just lost their luster and it is a strange feeling to suddenly not be motivated by the same assumptions of importance that were a given before. This, combined with a necessary re-ordering of priorities that happened due to the pandemic, has me second guessing some very fundamental aspects of myself and struggling to envision what I want to do from here. Those 2 things in combination have caused almost an existential crisis.  A painful but very quiet one, as I have to maintain a kind of tenuous status quo as a matter of survival. 

What is stranger, though, is that I feel slightly removed from everyone, as if I am carrying a secret, although I am not. I want to talk about the relationship, my person, and how I feel about him, but it is generally met with a passing interest at best. It is like this enormous thing has just happened to me, but the world goes on as if nothing has changed even though for me, everything has changed. I end up loosing concentration when people are talking, wanting to be alone more, and feeling lonely when I am in a group. This is even true with my covid pod, all of whom I love dearly, but with whom I can no longer communicate with in a completely open way. I have to censor myself and check myself, make sure I am not being that obnoxious girl who won't stop talking about her boyfriend. They are supportive, they just have so much of their own things going that there is no time for a love story. Besides, so much of the communication focuses on problem solving. This does not register as a problem. This is also complicated by my general difficulty in talking about love and matters of the heart, the "squishy stuff." It takes me a while to find the words and the courage, and warm up to the conversation. There just is not enough collective patience for that. 

My family was shocked by the news of our relationship, which came only 2 months after my ex-husband moved out, and just a few weeks after the official divorce. It caused a lot of speculation as to whether this had been an affair. None of this was true, but the suspicions and hurt feelings have driven a wedge between my immediate family and I.  I have spoken to my sister only once since she got the news, and it was a very tense conversation. My mother is a bit more curious and trying to be supportive, but I am extremely careful what I share with her. There is no open communication, only just enough palatable information to answer her few, tentative questions. This is not the first time there has been a barrier between us, and in the past some of the chasms were much deeper and lasted years, so I am not worried. This will resolve in time. It just feels like I am stuck representing the tiniest piece of this wonderful relationship when there is so much more that I would like to share, given the chance. 

I want to be patient and understanding but at the same time it is as if there is a transparent barrier between me and the rest of the world, that only I know about. The colors are slightly dulled, the lines are slightly blurry, and the sound is slightly muted. It is lonely and there are times I feel incredibly sad. For example I fell into a horrible funk today, and in trying to understand the reasons, it became clear that this was part of it. Not the entire reason, but part of it for sure. 

I have  a habit of ending posts with some sort of resolution, so as to not leave the audience (of one, haha) with a sense of burden. There is no resolution in this case, and perhaps my assumption has been wrong all along - perhaps none is needed. I'll continue doing my best to navigate this strange new emotional landscape of mine.