Isolation and Just one friend

 I have been thinking lately about how isolating it is being a carer and how other people dismiss you.  I've also spent some time pondering the fact that friendship can be a strange thing and how the least little thing can be an embarrassment too far and the friendship is over.  Yet some will stick by you even though you think they are merely tolerating you and some, well some seem to be everything you wished for and more and they make you realise that not everyone in the human race are superficial.  So thank you to those people.  However the isolation that I thought I had under control has gone.  The repetitive lockdowns throughout the pandemic have brought people out the woodwork, they are seeking company, someone to moan to and well I guess friendship but as soon as the lockdown is lifted they are gone, back to their lives and you're forgotten again.  I wrote this five years ago in May 2015 but it's just as apt today.  It's called Just one friend.

The alarm shrills; I’m thrown from a restless sleep. Bleary eyes peer at the world, the sun is shining, there’s laughter on the streets, people sharing their day to day lives, joys and sorrows. I smile as I dress and think about how lucky those people are, they have someone to share with, someone who wants to know. As realisation dawns like a gelid winter morning the smile slowly drops and the emptiness takes hold. All the while the caring tasks are met, personal hygiene, medication, feeding, clothing the solitary feelings grow like creeping Ivy until suddenly firm ground is lost and a marshy watery terrain slips beneath me until I feel the distant bitumen waters of the abyss are below, around and above me and I’m sinking…sinking through lack of communication, lack of interaction. The stentorian sounds of the clock ticking in a deliberately unhurried manner make the day feel three times as long. It’s barely lunch time yet it feels as though at least 12 hours have gone, in reality its maybe only five hours since this began. Some days I remember how it felt to talk to someone, have a conversation beyond are you hungry? Do you want a drink? I remember what if felt like to have something to talk about, now I don’t have time to keep up with tv and even if someone spoke to me I wouldn’t know what they are talking about.

There’s no time to ponder what it would be like if I could watch tv and know what the latest trend is, it’s lunch time and there’s food to prepare, food to be fed to someone who will starve without my help. Oh look it’s that time again, the clean-up time. Food has been consumed as best as possible so it’s time to wash up, clean the floors again and make sure everything’s safe and clean. Then if I’m quick enough there’s drinks to be made and help given to drink them.

The afternoon involves paying bills, finding a way to do the shopping and still given help to the toilet, help to drink, help to do everything. As I put the washing on the line I notice people laughing as they walk up the road, sharing their lives, enjoying themselves; if they have anything to worry about it doesn’t show, they are the epitome of happiness and freedom and most of all socialising. Before the tears can fully form a deep breath is taken and the day continues, I cannot let this distract me from my tasks because I know deep down there is nothing that can be done to solve this situation, nobody wants to know a career with commitments that mean they cancel last minute or have nothing to talk about beyond the latest soft easy grip cup which really doesn’t break when knocked over or a knew quick way to cut someone’s food so it doesn’t go cold. That lack of commonality makes sure that those few people who forget and speak to you immediately regret it and slowly the gaps between communications get longer and longer until they no longer exist; it’s just one perpetual gap of no communication at all.

The thing that settles fear in my stomach like a raging ball of fire with an accelerant thrown on it is the knowledge that this won’t change, caring means friends are gone for good, life is to be spent alone with no one to help, offer reassurance or just a simple hug to say, it’ll all be okay, I’m here to help you. The years in which caring takes over your life and leaves you isolated don’t just stand still they stretch into forever.

The stentorian ticking of the clock continues long after the person being cared for has gone, the perpetual counting down of seconds is noticeable but not as noticeable as the droning sound of the hours; as the hours pass the fire of isolation and loneliness takes hold and grows, it breaths and reproduces itself manifesting into something so big not even a giant could hope to win the fight. Loneliness and solitary caring is a cold harsh war fought by thousands in individual battles, battles hid from sight, supported by none and yet to be won.

As the war rages on, individual battles are lost yet somewhere inside that rampaging fire of loneliness is a watch tower of hope, the light flashes like a beacon in the night shedding hope that one day just one single solitary person will come and say, “hi I want to be your friend, I want to be there and to help you, I want to know you for who you are and I won’t leave you because of what you do.” In the darkest of days and nights when all hope has been extinguished, the war has almost won, there is nothing left to fight the fire with those simple unimportant yet essential words of “I’m here, let’s talk, lets laugh and cry together” is all it takes to extinguish enough flames of loneliness to get a carer; the most important yet most undervalued person in the world, through the stentorian ticking of the clock until the strength to continue battling through has returned. Returned because together the battle is easier to fight, the sides are evenly matched, fire and accelerant verses carer and friend until the war is won, the fire rampages no more, its embers don’t even glow. Loneliness has gone for good. The future looks bright, with laughter, comfort, support and most of all an understanding friendship.