Loneliness

It's hard to really describe the loneliness I often feel. I feel extremely fortunate to have parents who still help and care for me, who don't ask for money and are willing to tolerate my situation, with love and patience. I am also truly blessed to have my brother and sister still - both living at home; one will be turning 30 this year (shes an ECE), although she'll probably be gone in a year or two, and the other is 22 (a sous chef). I'm in the middle, 27, turning 28.

I acknowledge all this goodness around me. It helps, it's humbling. But here I am, an intelligent, relatively good looking, athletically built 27 year old guy; what do you think I want out of life? I'm reading "Faitheist" by Chris Stedman. In it, he recounts his early homosexual romances, the feelings he felt, the longings he saw realized; he spoke of that moment where all your energies from previous conversations and experiences with that special someone finally build up, and then, something in you just impels you spontaneously into action: into a love infused kiss.

I'm not sure what he described in that passage is love itself (he was 18), but in any case, I found myself growing envious; when I became aware of my envy, I searched the reason why, and began to grow depressed. "I'm going to be in this situation my entire life", I get to thinking. It is my worst fear. There's such a painful contrast between the present monotony and my future hopes. What lies in between is the hard work of self transformation. What it entails in practice - so much practice - is years and years of repetition. How much more before I meet that special someone? How long must I wait in this interminable stasis?

There's a particular girl who works at the library who has the prototypical look which attracts guys like me. Research has shown that blonde haired, milky skinned, blue eyed girls come off to guys (especially introverts like myself) as more empathetic. It's true! I can vouch for this. At first, I didn't really pay attention to her. When I moved to my new house I was eager to keep myself focused on a new way of being: to only think, or rather, feel myself. Not knowing exactly what I was doing (only recently have I delved into the somatosensory psychological literature) I still knew that it was working. I was allowing myself to feel myself in public; a liberty I haven't experienced very much of in my recent life.

She's taller than me. I'm 5'7, she's probably 5'8, maybe 5'8 1/2. Not that big a difference, although when I was reading "The Better Angels of Our Nature" by Steven Pinker, when he pointed out the influence of height on social success, it got me a bit demoralized. It took me awhile to get over this fact and learn to see myself in a different context. Eventually, one day, I guess after observing me, smiling at me, she came up to me to talk about how nice and considerate I am for putting the chair I put my feet on while I read, away, back in it's original position. At first, when she came up to me, I felt accosted. The PTSD kicked in: "holy fuck, go away!" one part of me felt like saying, while another part was like "Hehehehe, she's talking to me! and what she's talking about -  a basic common decency - is clearly being used as a pretext to talk with me!". But I could barely let out a word. My breath shortens so badly in those situations, and speaking, if it does come out, will sound higher, forced, contorted, and over all, uncomfortable and self conscious like. It IS ironic. I can embody myself physically: I can demonstrate through physical movement, confidence and ease.This is clearly what made me attractive to her: the way I carried myself. But there's a roadblock in my mind, a massive, gigantic, insecurity, that obstructs me from being in myself while I speak. So she spoke, and I think I may have heard a bit of nervousness in her voice, and I didn't respond. I simply nodded my head in agreement, as if to say "Ok, go away", or, if she's a little more perceptive "I'm so insecure, this is painful for me". I also felt a little guilt for contributing to her feelings of anxiety while she spoke.

This girl is sometimes on my mind, but I've been forced to rethink what it all means for me. 1) I may be idolizing what I want in life, and because she's a fairly attractive girl, with features that suggest empathy, kindness, patience, sensitivity, gentleness, I am taken in. I am besieged into thinking that "she is the one". 2) I know nothing about her. I don't know what er personality is like.

3) I am so lonely. I long to fall in love. I feel so much love in me all the time, especially at night. And I realize the apex, apogee, and highest expression of this feeling occurs in the context of another: the beloved. I don't just want to love another person, but I want her to love me. I hear so much about the powers of love, what it can accomplish, what it can effect in the personality of the other. On a neurochemical level, the experience of love is an explosive blend of dopamine (and oxytocin). The surge from that experience fills the body full of this highly invigorating neurochemical.

Some people are skeptical of psychics. Could it exist? On a theoretical level, it's hard to say, although there are some compelling theories out there for how it might work. But for me, what pulls me in the direction towards belief is an experience I had at 19. My mom comes home, and she calls me upstairs and sits me down at the table. She's full of this nervous excitement - she wants to tell me something. As if knowing how to get me nervous, she tells me "now don't get nervous" - which gets me nervous. "Gay, the woman who owns the chocolate store, well me, your dad and your brother just came back from her house. She's psychic you know and she said some things. We were talking and all of a sudden she stops, and says 'donna, your father is here' making a wagging motion of her hand towards me, as if in imitation of him". Gay then goes on to describe my grandfather, even making a movement - some hand gesture up against the face - which apparently was supposed to be something only he and my grandmother knew. Gay then goes on to make predictions for 2 of my mothers children. 1) something big will happen to your daughter, but don't worry, she'll be fine. She'll have children  2) your son will get better, but he will have something serious happen to him at 21 where he might commit suicide. Be gentle and patient with him, and he'll get through it fine. 3) Your son will meet a girl, blonde, who will help him.

So you can understand my temptation to see all blonde woman and see in them "my savior". I've done it with this girl. No matter how hard I try to be rational about it - and this part is the one making the decisions - there's still a very strong emotional part in me that groans: it's her! it's her!. Who refuses to chuck away the hope that I will meet a blonde girl who will help me. Who will love me - titillate the dopamine in my brain - helping work through the morass that is socializing.

As for the predictions. Something serious DID happen to my sister. And she got through it fine, despite the odds. I did go through something serious at 21 (2 years after the prediction was made; I hadn't even been conscious of it then, so this was some self fulled prophecy) - the kundalini yoga thing, didn't sleep for 21 days. Contemplated suicide a few times, but was too fearful to do it. Ohhh, nothing will ever match the intensity and fear I experienced during those 3 hellish weeks. No sleep - at ALL. Nerves ravaging my body. Electric shocks from my SNS keeping my mind on continuous alert: if sleep was near, an electric shock pounded its way into consciousness. A monstrously frightening shock - waking me with a jolt. I can remember my panic stricken face.. I've gone off track by mentioning this, but some experiences are just so high on the richter scale, so unusual, so intense, that it is hard not to stop and pay notice to them. The body can be a torture chamber: the nervous system can be an electric chair. And you, scared, for your life and your sanity, just want to be helped. Can you blame those people who turn to God? It seems to be the only rational response in such situations.

Parts of her predictions have more or less panned out. The gesture she made to my mom was recognized by my grandmother, causing her to get emotional. I personally believe that psychic phenomena is legitimate. That it is shortsighted, premature, and needlessly skeptical, to deny the universal ubiquity of this phenomena.