Loneliness

All I want is a community. I don’t know why it’s so much to ask, but it seems that it’s actually asking for the whole world just to wish that I had a community of friends around me.

            Don’t get me wrong, I have friends. They’re just not nearby. They’re anywhere from a three-minute drive to a day’s plane ride, away. They’re introverts. They’re busy. They don’t have time to make for me in the way that I can make time for them. Things always come up…until they want a favor.

            There is a lot I would do for any one of my friends if they needed my help. I’m always there for my friends and I feel like they know it, but they don’t extend the same back towards me. At least, not the ones who are close enough to actually see me in person and spend time if they ever had it.

            If you need a ride to the airport, I’m there. If you need ginger ale to settle your stomach because you’re too sick to get it yourself, I’m there. If you need a ride to work, I’m there. If I can be there, I am, and I don’t ask for anything in return but the same courtesies in friendship.

            So, why is it so hard to find people who share my values?

            I want to build a community of houses—decently sized houses with yards, maybe some land—where I can live with those friends who do actively make time for me. If I could, I would move next to me all my friends who actually take the time to send me a message asking how my day went; I’d move in those friends who reply to me when I send a message and actually take the effort to keep a conversation going for any length of time; I’d move in those friends who do for me as I do for them and those who invite me out when something comes up, or come out with me when I invite them and they’re available.

            No, I don’t believe that friendship requires constant contact. But that doesn’t mean I want my friends to burrow into their introverted holes and never come out to play. My schedule is changing but I’m requesting friends to come out on a weekend night, which is typically when everyone has time off anyway.

            It doesn’t help that I have a child. The moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew I was going to lose at least a couple of friends. I get it. They’re child-free. They don’t like spawn and it’s nothing personal against me, it’s against all parents and their offspring. Knowing doesn’t change my feelings.

            Knowing that the child-free people avoid me based on principle and not on my own actions doesn’t prevent me from feeling shunned—maybe even more shunned than I’ve felt my entire life, and I’ve literally always felt shunned.

            Knowing that there are people I call friends who avoid me because of my child makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong in becoming a mother. It makes me feel like children are terrible and my child is the fucking devil just because she exists; because she’s the reason people don’t want to see me.

            How am I supposed to find joy in my child when she is the cause of so much misery in my life? I can’t take my daughter to karaoke. I can’t watch anime with my daughter, or hold philosophical conversations with her, or share a joint with her. These are all things that can happen when she’s older, but she’s a toddler. I need other toddlers for her to spend time with and I need other mothers to be my friend and take time for me the way I take time for my friends.

            Sure, I can take my child swimming. I can take her to the zoo, or the wildlife reserve, or the children’s museum, or the park. Those are all wonderful daytime activities, but now I’m going to be working nights.

            It seems my new shift will make me lonelier than ever unless my nights off correspond with my friend who also works nights. Let’s hope I get lucky again the way I got lucky to work so close to home. Otherwise, I’ll live a very lonely life.