This entry is one I’ve been wanting to write for a while. I don’t know how it’s going to turn out since I feel a bit scatterbrained lately. There’s just a lot of things on my mind, and some of them could come out in this entry. But the main thing that I’ve felt lately is just like I’ve been abandoned. But, how can someone that sometimes isolates himself also feel abandoned?  How can someone that knows he’s not alone feel so completely by himself? I guess if I had the answers to these questions I wouldn’t be writing this particular entry, would I?

According to one particular social network, I have almost 200 friends. I actually do know a vast majority of those people. Yet, even with all of those friends, I feel abandoned. But, this feeling is bigger than that. It’s not just about friends or family, I feel abandoned by society, by life, and even by progress. It’s not a good feeling. Maybe I should elaborate on that, but I just don’t know how to properly word it at this time.

I’ve noticed that it’s common for what I write not to make sense to some people. Sometimes when I read it back, it doesn’t make sense to me. But, it’s my hope that anyone that reads this and doesn’t fully understand what I’m talking about gains a slight better understanding of me and how my mind works. And the people that do understand this, well, we’re in this together. Or, then again, maybe we’re not. I guess that’s the theme of this one.

I know that people will read this. I also know that some people will reach out to me and say encouraging words. And I genuinely do appreciate that. Unfortunately, I don’t know how much it will change.

And that brings me to my next point. When I know that a friend of mine is going through a rough time, I will reach out. I will ask if they’re okay. I will check in somewhat regularly. I am very protective of people I care about. I want to make sure they know that someone is there. These are the people that need to know they’re not alone. They need to know they haven’t been abandoned. They need to know someone cares, even if it’s just a casual friend like me.

As you’re reading this, you’re probably wondering why I can help others and not myself. I wonder the same thing. That seems to be a common issue with people with depressive disorders. I recognize the pain others are going through because I go through it too. Not long ago a friend told me that she completely understood a particular issue I had because she felt it too. I told her that I was glad that she did, so we could talk about it, but I also wish she didn’t understand. That would mean she wouldn’t feel the same pain. That’s one of the few parts of this entry that actually makes sense to me.

When I was in grade school, I remember specific times when I got picked on. A few times I spoke up and told a teacher. Some of those times, instead of getting help from the teacher, I was accused of just wanting attention. Well, uh…yeah. I was trying to draw attention to a problem. I wasn’t the problem.

A particular guidance counselor told me to my face that I was lazy and not good enough to be in a particular class that I wanted to be in. I’ve already discussed the lazy thing. I think that’s open to interpretation at this point, but regardless, this was a guidance counselor. It’s someone of authority and someone of perceived power within the school that is supposed to help me in a time of need, not belittle me.

I am well aware that the issues I just discussed happened in the 1980s and they were “a long time ago.” But they’re still quite relevant. They helped contribute to my inability to ask for help. I know there’s many more episodes in my life that helped that along, and as always I feel like I’m just starting to scratch the surface of the real issues, but I’ve noticed that a lot of the “little things” from childhood really do add up. And if you think those incidents don’t contribute to feelings of abandonment, I disagree. I really do believe that emotional mole hills can become emotional mountains.

This entry isn’t nearly as fluid as I would like it to be, but as I’ve been working on it, a lot of things have popped into my mind and I’ve been distracted by some things. It’s the whole scratching the surface thing that I mentioned. Part of the reason this is skipping around so much is also that I know I’ll be writing another blog entry within the next week or so. Of course, by not saying so much here I’m definitely leaving this entry thinking it’s not good enough, but that’s par for the course. And so what, even if I’ve been abandoned by cohesive thoughts, the fact that I’m getting any of these thoughts out there is still a good thing.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, if there is one…
I remember a conversation with someone a while back in which it was said that I am dealing with the “hand that’s been dealt to me.” Well, maybe that’s true. And I am dealing with it. Part of dealing with it is writing something like this. Sometimes I feel it’s all I can do. And I’ll touch on that a little bit in my next entry. I want to close this on a somewhat positive note, and that’s while I feel abandoned by so much, the one thing I haven’t completely abandoned myself is hope.