… something happens.
Today it was my housemate telling me she needs to move out. There are some legitimate concerns I have – I have to figure out if I can afford to stay here and how to get another roommate, which I hate doing. But it was more than that. The first thing I thought of was that if I were married, I wouldn’t have to deal with roommates any more. Then the next thought – very automatic – was that if I weren’t such a loser, I’d be married. That there’s something horribly, deeply wrong with me because I’m still alone and that nothing good will ever happen and I’ll always be alone.
To be clear, I’m not alone. I have many, many friends. But I’m single and I feel like that makes me alone forever. And I know that I’m not a loser because I’m single but I really, really feel like it. It was such a deep feeling that it ambushed me and I felt right back to where I used to be. A big pit of despair and worthlessness. I don’t want to be in that pit any more; it just feels so bad and so hopeless, and so… forever.