On loneliness

I’ve sat down several times over the past few weeks attempting to work out what I would tell you about loneliness and being a mental health family carer of someone with severe mental illness. You see; I’m not used to telling my story because mine is an invisible one, I have obligations to meet at work, and also at home caring for my husband and family. I have many roles and responsibilities to others.

I think often me as a child and as a young woman, and I look back over the past, often. I see something got lost along the way, somehow. Something is missing. Naming it, sharing it, asking that my needs are also important, showing that I’m also vulnerable, brings with it unintended consequences that will be all about the mental illness that invades our life too much already, that will only make my husband feel distressed, and that I will have to ultimately fix. But keeping it unsaid will also have consequences, reminding me that I’m alone in this dilemma; either way I lose. So, I remain stoic, to keep unspeakable things to myself, alone, to accept that intimacy in my most important relationship has rules and limits. So, I’m protective of the fragments that are still me, they’re private, for me alone. I hold them close and continue to put on my “public” face as I go about my day.