On being alone

This is a recurring topic on my blog, every now and then I think about what loneliness and being alone means, on what it means to me. I guess that it has something to do with the fact that I have been living alone for a year, now. I have been arriving to an empty house for all this time, not having anyone to talk to, having to do everything on my own. I also suspect that it has to do with the fact that I am of an age when people starts getting married or in long-term relationships, when they commit to never being alone anymore.

Being an awkward person, as I am, I've always felt more comfortable alone. This may come as a surprise, because I can be very outgoing, and in a way I am. However, I have always felt safer being alone. Which might be the reason I don't mind not having someone hanging around at home when I arrive, or why my house is usually silent as I don't even feel the need to play music or turn the TV on. Being alone is my shield against all the constant stimulus I receive from the outside, it's my safe haven. When I have to walk around the city I'm always listening to music, because I feel that this will keep the rest of the people out. When I am out with friends, I will sometimes get lost in my own thoughts because listening to their conversations is draining and I need some alone time. I guess it's a virtue being able to be alone even when you are with people. Sometimes none of it will work, and then I'll feel the need to travel somewhere I can be truly on my own, as I did this year when I went to Ireland to hike part of the Kerry Way completely alone. Some people might have gone crazy, spending more than eight hours a day alone with their thoughts, but for me it was therapeutic, it soothed my soul. 

However, society doesn't really accomodate for people who like to be alone, we, humans, are gregarious animals. We live in groups, we mate "for life" or rather for different periods of time. When you are used to be alone it's difficult to find your place in society. Being alone means also being fiercely independent, and possibly incredibly stubborn, resisting to ask for help even when you need it the most. I have had high fever while being home alone, braved up and cooked myself some soup refusing to ask for help. And deep inside, I think that the rest of the people is like me, which basically shows how little do I understand people. As I said, with being alone comes a sense of independence, a sense of doing whatever you want to do whenever you want to, and the longer you are alone, the stronger this feeling grows. Until there is a moment when you are so used to it that allowing anyone inside your life is hard, and you don't even know how to let them in or when to talk to them, because you simply assume that they also need some time alone. And it's hard for people to understand, even if they are close friends who have known you for a long time. In a way, being comfortable with being alone can make you detached, and look like a terrible friend, making it look as if you didn't care, when, actually, you just don't want to invade their personal space. 

Still, I wouldn't change it for anything. Feeling comfortable being alone is a wonderful feeling, the highest form of self-acceptance there is, it prepares you for the worst times in life, while it leaves the best to catch you unaware. 

Memories

Childhood memories are fickle things, we usually remembeer things in a way that they aren't. Therefore, when Richard wrote his blog post (https://imasillypirate.wordpress.com/2015/02/17/memory/) (I'm writing this on the blogger iPad app and apparently you can't hyperlink in here (also when I typed hyperlink it suggested hyperphosphorylated which shows which kind of person I am (an awesome person, that is))) I thought it was very cute and very ninja-like, but that I could never do it because I happen to have very fragmented memories of my childhood and I can't place things on a time-line, or know if they did even actually happen. However, today, Mia posted her story on her being basically Anna from Frozen (http://www.triadvstrinity.com/blog/2015/2/19/childhood-memories minus the magic and the snow and Olaf), I felt the need to write something (despite it being Friday evening and almost falling asleep on the table where I'm writing (I'm a PhD student under lots of stress who wakes up every day at 5.15 am, I deserve to be allowed to be tired on Friday evenings)) and I've dug deep in my memory and found I still have basically zero capacity to recall what happened in my early years. However, I will explain something, is not a single memory, but rather a collection of things that happened over a period of time when I was six. Here we go. 

I was an only child until I was six years and a half. I don't remember whether I ever asked my parents for a little brother or sister, I just remember that one day they told me that I was going to have a little sibling and I was superexcited because it would basically be a real-size doll (I played with dolls back then, I was a girly girl, I might have used up all my girlyness (which apparently is not a word, although it totally is) during those years and I have none left now)). I was also convinced it would be a girl. I remember being on the car with my parents talking about names, and we were totally going to name her Anna, and we would share clothes and I would play with her, and we would be best friends. As you could see I loved to plan everything, just like nowadays. Of course, the day arrived when my mother went to get the ultrasound that would tell us whether the baby was a boy or a girl. And of course, the ultrasound showed it was a boy. Because boys are dicks and they screw everything up. I got really mad, I got mad at the doctor because of course she was wrong, and that WAS CLEARLY A GIRL. Then I got mad at my father because it was his fault because he had wanted a boy (I wasn't completely wrong on that one, although the fault was my brother's for being the first sperm cell to reach the egg). Back in hindsight, I guess it would have been really funny to see a little girl so upset about that. Fast forward some months, and you can find me taking care of my little brother, playing with him as if he were a doll, and letting him pull my hair. 

Here's proof that we were adorable. 

So, this is my childhood memory, that wasn't actually a memory and I actually cheated because there are some things I did not actually remember, but knew because my parents told me. 

Deep inside

That feeling of hopelessness,

Of losing control. 

The wait for answers, 

The need for something else. 

The moment when I am not me anymore,

The doubts,

The crippling doubts, 

The what-ifs, 

The I-don't-care anyway. 

The ups and the downs, 

The rush of blood, 

The head in the clouds. 

The denial I live in, 

My fear of mistakes

Paralizing me deep inside,

Rendering me usless. 

Shaking hands, 

Waiting eyes, 

My mind wandering in neverland. 

Wondering if it will be the last time,

Wondering if I did wrong. 

Words piling up in my head,

Never leaving my mouth. 

Thoughts bouncing in my mind

Crashing on the walls. 

Just because,

Deep inside,

A small part of myself,

Decides to make it hard. 

Just because,

In a way,

I can't trust anyone,

Not even myself. 

I had vertigo, and it was hilarious.

I know, "vertigo" and "hilarious" are two words that don't go well together. Mostly because having your head spin all the time is no laughing matter. BUT this happened to me, and it happens to be hilarious, so brace yourselves (also, there are going to be lots of screencaps of Twitter because I WAS hilarious at that time).

It all started on Saturday morning when I was trying to be lazy after a long week of overworking myself (and overthinking about several things). I was basically laying on the sofa and feeling kind of hungry when I decided to stand up and go to the kitchen. And my head started spinning. Because my brain remembers the weirdest things, I remembered when, at uni, I was taught about postural hypotension, and I assumed that was it. Because I kept feeling light-headed EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN time I stood up, I decided to Google possible causes. 

And because I'm an hypochondriac it didn't go exactly as planned. So I decided to take the next logical step, which was: 

I have another problem which is basically that there are words I know in English but not in my own language, and this is problematic, because I assume that the first thing doctors do when you start blurting words in another language is send you for a CT scan (which MAYBE wouldn't have been such a bad idea). 

So, it was 4pm and I was very very wrong about two things: 1) me having postural hypotension, and 2) whatever it was not being fun. 

At that point I had already decided to go to the ER, which I should have probably done before, and I was already starting to be hilarious, unknowingly. 

I discovered how fun it was only three minutes later. Long story short, I went to the ER and I started tweeting as if it were the last day on Earth. I'll let the tweets do the talking. 

I was very wrong, it never stops being funny. 

Also wrong. 

I'm a delight and I always think I have the worse possible illnesses. Because I read too much scientific literature, probably. 

Also, I'm delusional and I think I can pick what I get to have. 

Here someone was encouraging my rambling. Someone who was probably high, too. 

Here dears Richard and Mia chimed in and encouraged me to tweet even more nonsense. Most of the conversation was AFTER I left the ER, but still. 

My usual delightfulness. I'm gold (also I had actually tipped golf, because I'm writting this on my iPad and I'm clumsy, and of course I'm not golf). 

This is a legitimate question because my phone's battery lasts like two seconds or so, therefore I needed to plug it. I also want to note that when the doctor asked me what happened to me I literally told him I felt high AND HE DIDN'T NOTE IT DOWN. THIS IS CLEARLY A SYMPTOM. In the end they told me I had vertigo and it could be either because of vestibular neuritis or a pulled muscle. In any case one of the symptoms is being high for free so I can't complain much. Well, except when it happens at work, like today, and I can't stop laughing at every single thing, or rationalize bad ideas, like even the worst of the ideas seems a good one to me. I should probably get checked. 

If you have made it this far you deserve to read the BEST text I've ever sent to my best friend. It is hysterical, but he doesn't seem to agree (because he's no fun, probably). 

Also the picture size is random, but don't blame me, I'm to cognitively impaired right now to fix it.