I have no future
My life is pointless
My life is wasted
My past is lost
My memories have dissolved
I have no vision of a future
I have no purpose
I am obsolete
I have no meaning
I’m on the outside now
I don’t belong
I have no-one to share with
I have no-one to eat with
I have no-one to talk to
No-one to share my home with
It is no longer a home
It is an empty box
I am empty
This is what I wrote during yet another lonely and frightening night of being unable to sleep, sitting in the dark, trembling – a month or so after moving into my new property. I could not call it a home. It was just somewhere to sleep and do my washing. I had lost 47 years of my life, and had to pack up the last 10 years of it into boxes of all shapes and sizes. Because I had been lied to and betrayed and abandoned by someone whom I thought had loved and respected me, 2 days after my 65th birthday. How could I have been so stupid!?
I spent a lot of time watching old tv programmes, for their comforting familiarity. And reading trashy crime novels for their escapism.
Most days I would go out as quickly as I could and sit by the ocean, watching and listening to the waves for hours. It was my “zen” place. The water, the sky and the sound allowed unconscious thoughts to swirl around my head and gradually clear my vision.
I knew I had to make myself do something, so I went out walking every morning. But they were very lonely walks.
My family supported me and gave me their loyalty, as did my friends. But they were all busy with their own lives as well, And I needed to be independent.
Sorting through the junk mail in my letterbox one day, I noticed a small local area info booklet. It contained several snippets of useful information, so I kept it. On leafing through it again later I noticed an article which mentioned Befriend – and that if you felt like a coffee and a chat, to go along to a local cafe at 11.30 a.m. on the following Tuesday. I didn’t think I would go, but on the day I reasoned that I could go to the cafe and see what happened – after all, I didn’t have to stay or say anything if I didn’t like the look of it. No-one would know, no-one knew me. It was a turning point. I quietly said to the staff member behind the counter that I thought there might be a meeting held there that morning. Someone on a nearby table called out to me, beckoning, and said “over here, come and sit down.” That was a lady, who two years later, is now one of my best friends. I sat down, and during the various conversations going on, people introduced themselves to me, my coffee was brought over for me – and from that time on I had something different to look forward to. Not all were single, some married or in a partnership, and just wanted to get out and have some different company and chat. For me, it wasn’t people I had gone to school with, or who had been work colleagues.It opened up another, completely new, source of friendship, from many varied backgrounds and circumstances.
Through this regular, weekly coffee group meeting, I have made several friends with whom I have enjoyed outings and activities, sometimes going on day trips, Christmas outings, picnics, etc.
I’m sure this has been the basis of my being able to come through such a difficult and traumatic time, and it has helped towards making a new life. It takes effort and patience and a willingness to try different things when, sometimes, you’d rather just not get out of bed in the morning.