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In the hope that your affectation of a connection will be rewarded with an actual connection.It is the only type of loneliness that cannot be named for the shame it brings on you.Despite the ambivertedness and often detailed observance in my outlook around people, the role of “happy-go-lucky Dave” was a recognised and rarely challenged fairing amongst family and friends.Bubbly, outgoing, sporty and active; all resounding traits of a self-promoting bio with the mood swings, drama and bitter excerpts merely regarded as the impulses of teenage angst.It is the loneliness that sees you craving physical contact so much that you scoop up the odd smile sent your direction, and try to turn it into a loving caress. It is the loneliness that pervades your soul when you make yourself as vulnerable as you know how – taking a gamble and exposing your fears and hopes and dreams in equal measure – and your husband responds.Not, however, as you had hoped, with kindness and understanding; but with a story about how he wanted to bat for India but it never happened.Even writing this email is bringing me close to tears.I don’t know how to go about making new friends; at my age everyone seems to have established their groups of friends.
You give away pieces of yourself in silent exchange for acceptance.
It’s not even the loneliness that manifests when your spouse dies, and you are left without their physical presence. This is a constant loneliness that accompanies your every waking – and sleeping – hour.
It is the loneliness that arrests the blood flowing to and from your heart when you share your deepest feelings, only to have them disregarded, disparaged or derided.
Or I might be out with my husband and see a group of women in the pub, howling with laughter about something silly.
I don’t have that close female friendship anymore, someone to go for coffee with or go for a walk with, and I crave it and miss it so much.