The Void

It has always been hard for me to make new friends, even under the best of circumstances. I am a naturally introverted person and I suffer from social phobia, which loosely means I think people are constantly scrutinizing and judging me. So it's a tough situation. And when I hear (usually) extroverted people rattle off ways to go out there and meet people, I cringe inside.

I still have a few close friends in Northern California who I email and speak with on the phone. I miss them terribly, but having contact with them definitely helps put me in a better mood; it doesn't make me feel so isolated. I wracked my brain to try and figure out why I was suddenly all alone and without any friends here, and I realized that a vast majority of my friends were made through work. And now that I don't work, that common interest is gone. And let's face it, when you're not working, people's interest in you goes down. Way down. It's not necessarily fair, but it's true. I've experienced the discrimination firsthand.

People tell me "sign up for a class." All very fine and well, but that costs money I don't have. I live below the poverty line and barely squeak by every month. I'd love to study art again, but even a little cash is a lot for me.

People say "volunteer." Well, I do. For the past 3 years I have participated in a program through NAMI (National Alliance On The Mentally Ill) called In Our Own Voice where myself and a co-presenter speak out about our experiences living with mental illness out in the community. I am the coordinator of these talks in my area which gives me a great sense of accomplishment, and genuinely enjoy getting out there and presenting. While I like the people I meet through NAMI, I feel these associations are more of a businesslike than friendly nature. I try to think about other volunteer work I could do, but at the same time with my depression and anxiety, I don't want to overwhelm myself - which would be a very easy thing to do.

I'm not married, and not a mother, so that strikes down a lot of potential friendships. People tend to talk to you more if you have a dog, but I don't have one (our apartment is too small). I feel the people in my therapy groups are merely people I have a few things in common with from a mental illness perspective, but I don't see them as friends. Moreover, that might upset the group dynamic if we were to become friends, so it doesn't even cross my mind.

I'm not the kind of person who can just walk into a room and start up a conversation. While I consider myself approachable and generally nice to others, I am a bit quirky and can be hard to know. Online friendships were really a boon to me a few years back. I used to write a lot of poetry and blog them, as well as other random thoughts, on a once-popular social networking site. I welcomed the feedback and support I got from others, and considered it a real shot in the arm. Then writers' block came and my thoughts turned negative, and I lost my readership. Ultimately, a lot of people defected to other social networking sites, none of which, to me, were as satisfying as the original. So it seems it's become more challenging for me even to make new online friends. I want something more than someone merely updating their status and proclaiming "I had cereal today!" I'd like a sense of connection, a kindred spirit. I know I've had it before, and I want it again. People didn't give me the time of day for the most part in real life, but when I relaxed and became myself on the computer, it was like a whole other world emerged. And I miss that.

So here I stand in the desert of near-friendlessness. I'd like to think I'm a good friend. I'm loyal, consistent, and a good listener- and that's the short list. It would really be disheartening if this is as good as it gets. I know in my heart I deserve more.