I bet you thought before you left
I’d just sit in silence by myself
Turn this house into a jail
Dyin’ slow in a livin’ hell.
I shouldn’t really use song lyrics to try and understand life.
I guess I’ve been there though.
Sitting myself on my own, making the best of it, distracting myself and killing time until bedtime through tv and the internet.
By default, alone.
The emptiness when I don’t have the kids, a kind of pointless empty feeling. A pit in stomach feeling.
Same time, I either don’t want to go out or can’t afford to go out, so I have that lack of option pinning me down.
The idea of going out alone sometimes is overwhelming and often unappealing.
I don’t have a car usually, so getting in one and driving somewhere isn’t an option, even for a random coffee stop.
I try and immerse myself.
I get distracted and fail too. I can read the sports coverage or wiki articles or something else.
It’s temporary head filling.
I read on philosophy, I read on how brains work. I read on the search engine on ‘Autism’ and ‘Aspergers’ set on last 24 hours. I click through the tweets on things like dementia on science journal feeds.
I probably want human interaction. I probably need it.
I’m adrift from ‘friends’, strained with ‘family’ and without a clue in many respects.
I don’t want to go out drinking alone, I don’t see a coffee shop and a book to read, as working as ‘a thing’ for me either.
There’s days at work where I don’t get any conversation directed at me.
I know why, I know I’m ‘difficult’ and that I get punished for ‘outbursts’ by being shunned.
I can’t really initiate conversation well and I don’t want to scare people by doing ‘odd, but active’
It’s unfulfilling and dull, but I can’t force myself into other’s conversation and it’s a thing I’ve generally given up on.
I find what peace I can in the day and at night. I can force myself on at work and push myself to be distracted at home too.
I still love music and songs and words and it gets to be my refuge.
Headphones on and nothing else to process, nothing more going on in my brain but the music, words and the tune.
But once in a while, I get unsettled at a lyric or an emotion, and I’m holding back tears or trying to quell the turmoil that’s been sparked.
Some songs perfectly capture where and how and who I am sometimes, sometimes too well.
(Lyric quoted is from ‘Record Year’ on the Mr. Misunderstood album by Eric Church)