Moving away from loneliness

Loneliness is a concept I am often mulling over, in one shape or another. I'm currently read Olivia Laing's The Lonely City and am reminded that loneliness is an experience that we all share at certain moments, and not necessarily when we are alone. Sex is important to us because it can, for those moments, bridge the divide between us. Laing writes, 'That's the dream of sex, isn't it? That you will be liberated from the prison of the body by the body itself, at long last desired, its strange tongue understood.'

Her comment made me put the book down and stare into the abyss. Perhaps this is what had happened to me. It's not enough for me to be in close touch to my husband, side by side in bed, or him stroking me softly, or even making love to me in a tender way. Bit by bit, without feeling some force, I can start to feel my psyche break down. This break down of psyche oozes out; a change in tone; a comment lacking complete respect. He picks me up on it. He makes it clear, a very stern rebuke, that I have gone too far. And, when I am being chided in this way for feeling alone in my body, even though he doesn't know that, I can't apologize, which only makes the matter far, far worse.

On Saturday morning, I broke down. I mean I really felt that I was losing my mind. I certainly didn't look myself. 'I feel mad' I said to him, and I meant that I felt that my brain had lost its power to function in a normal way. 'I hate to see you this way,' he said to me, and we made up, but the energy remained fairly low until late in the afternoon, he took me into the bedroom, tore off my clothes except for my socks and walking shoes (I was in walking clothes) which I rather liked. He spanked me, hard, such that I couldn't catch my breath. I can't remember everything but he kept talking to me, roughly, had me on my fours, fucked me from behind...and I found myself waiting for some alteration of mood...didn't know which way it would go...until he finally released me...and I realized I had been healed, much as a person with a chronic mental health condition is immediately freed of distress by shock therapy. Evidently, my body needs  to feel force for my mind to be relaxed and at peace; no longer lonely. It is what it is.

On Monday, I watched the second Presidential debate and noticed that I was feeling sick. There was something about the spectacle of Trump acting in such undignified ways that upset me right down to my stomach. It signalled the end of civility in some way, that he could act in this way and that millions of people living in the West could think that's okay. And then, right away, I had to leave for an appointment with my son and he told me something that was a shock, a situation that required my instant input. It's rectified now but for 24 hours the two of us were troubled by it. The world, my world, it felt, can change in an instant.

And then a friend called, someone who has been living overseas and now returned, was looking for a chat, and it occurred to me in the midst of that conversation in which I was fully involved, that I felt desperately lonely. This woman who I have known for 50+ years knows so very little of me. Such 'friendships' are lonely places really.

I remember saying to my husband in the midst of my despair on Saturday morning, 'Do you think a gay person or a kinky person asks for this? Do you think we put in an order and request to be different?' I am different, different to the people around me. But, then we all are, as a matter of fact. We are all on our own islands and the business of living is to find the bridge over to another person; to relate, to connect, to love completely and to accept unconditionally. It is, perhaps, why the Donald made me ill. Such politics as his can only separate us further and it's the reason why, ultimately, he has been rejected. We very much want to find those bridges to others and away from the loneliness of our own bodies and minds.

Loneliness

When we harbour an emotional pain, especially one that we have carried from childhood, there can be glimpses of that old feeling in what appears to be random moments. I've glimpsed my childhood loneliness in moments of stillness early in the evening when it is time to close the curtains in my bedroom. The sense of loneliness comes to me for an instant, a returning shadow. There is a feeling of heaviness, like a weight or anchor is holding me to the spot. I acknowledge its presence, the moment moves on into the next moment. I get on with my evening tasks and the feeling goes away. I've had a vague sense of understanding of these moments of hurt over time but I haven't dwelled on them. We tend not to do that. It's called denial.

As uplifting as the vast majority of my experiences have been in a power exchange, I have experienced moments of what I will call 'loneliness' through that connection also. In some acute way a particular experience, or just words, would tap into a deep emotional pain that made me want to run from the dynamic and end the pain. Eventually - a minute, an hour, a day, or a week later - the feeling would pass and I'd realize that I couldn't run from it, needed it. There was nothing else to do but to return the pain to its deep recesses in my mind and to hope that it didn't return; to attempt to mitigate the possibility of those same scenarios playing out in the same way.

For the past few months those feelings of what I am going to call 'loneliness' returned repetitively, almost to a point where they were with me more than they were absent. I can only guess that my mind had reached a point where it was ready to interrogate the feeling.

I read voraciously online and I had a stroke of good luck. I came across two reputable therapists of long standing who had written books about this word that kept speaking to me - co-dependency - and I sent for both of them.

Co-dependency, I have learned, is a symptom of trauma. No-one intends these traumas but not everyone is designed for parenthood and, unfortunately, all children have the same needs, regardless of the quality of the parenting style. In the face of a narcissistic parent, a parent who needs to feel special in their own way, children must determine a way to cope. My way of coping was to be good, quiet, no trouble; to keep my feelings to myself; to provide the space and caring they needed, whilst not getting the care I needed.  This is nobodies fault. It is just the way it played out.

Sensing that there is something significant about these moments of 'loneliness' I intentionally explored my experiences for an explanation. I have been surrounded by family all my adult life, and their friends, who love/like me very much. I've the opportunity to see my friends and acquaintances when I choose and those friendships are warm. I am not alone, and still I was feeling deep loneliness.

Of course, it is the quality of the connections you make that factors into a sense of loneliness or not. A couple of years ago now I had a single session with a healer type of person and I remember now that he said to me 'You don't give anybody all of you, do you?' My response was immediate, 'No, I don't.' I knew that deep in my bones, but I didn't know why. I didn't know that I carried shame (is 'shame' the right word...?)  that needed to be hidden, even from myself.

When a co-dependent meets someone who has also suffered a similar sort of childhood trauma (e.g. neglect or conditional love only), a dominant type of person, the sense of comfort and arousal is immense. The pull towards him is magnetic. The force field is as strong as an addict towards his drug of choice. The experience can be electrifying and joyous. But, for someone like me that power dynamic can also result in a sense of isolation for a number of reasons.

It is often said by a submissive or a dominant that the other "completes" them. But, what if you have two underdeveloped people - two half-people that need each other to make one complete person? It is only when there are two individuated people that there can be one healthy relationship.

If I am correct in this analysis, then I have no alternative but to address the co-dependency, for as much as I love power exchange so much of the time, the low times are overwhelming for me.

So, how does one heal from this dilemma left over from childhood experiences; from core needs not being met? My reading says the answer lies in self-love. As I come to understand the problematic issues that can relate to the power exchange dynamic and that have affected my life, I feel stronger.