I feel like killing myself. No one cares about me.Tonight I got hit by a car. Is there anyone I can really call about it?No.I was turning on my bike from a two-way street onto a sidewalk at the other side of the road. It was dark, and as I turned, a taxi started turning into the lane I was crossing. He came closer and closer, and I braked— waiting for him to finally stop before hitting me.He didn't stop.I rolled against the hood, and my bike got knocked to the ground. I stumbled but didn't fall. When I regained control, I walked over to pick up the bike. The taxi driver had finally stopped his cab and got out.This is the part of the story where you get the other person's contact information. The part where you maybe exchange insurance info. And, if you're prone to outbursts of anger, yell at the guy.I looked at the cab to see his number, but I said nothing to him.I had made an illegal turn.I was in the wrong.I don't know the law exactly, but I'm sure that turning to bike into a crosswalk, when you're partially blocked from the view of turning drivers by cars at the curb— oh, and when biking on the sidewalk is illegal— well...In other words: I could have gotten into more trouble than anything I could have gained from the situation.I picked up my bike and walked away.The worst thing that happened: Besides my water bottle's being knocked off the bike, the mount for my iPod was knocked off, too.Oh, yeah. Don't tell the police I had an iPod on my handlebars. It's illegal, I'm sure, to listen to music through headphones while biking.
----Who would I call after this? After such a scary event that caused such emotional pain?Hardly anyone.I did call the therapist I've been seeing. Left a message. But I don't really trust her, since we're not such a good fit in important ways.I could have called the psychiatrist with whom I've been consulting. But I don't exactly feel it with him. Not like that.I could have called my best guy friend, but he's not one whose shoulder I would lean on. I could have called my best female friend, but it's the same with her.A family member? No.Another friend? Can't think of anyone.There's no one I can break down to.That's why I feel like killing myself.----The world's a very lonely place when there's no one you can open up to in the deepest of ways and feel safe.How did my life get like this? I thought I would have a girlfriend at some point. I never technically have. I thought I would wait until I was married to have sex, and my wife would have waited, too. Now I'm 32. No marriage in sight. And no more waiting.(And most everyone else, it seems, felt differently than me. Surprise!)Conversely, I can't find anyone now with whom to do it on my terms. No extensive emotional interaction. No commitment. No hearing about her past. No being teased by her.I didn't expect to get to a point where I just got so tired of fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting… that I stopped trying. Fighting to be heard with my writing. Fighting (or struggling) to find someone who understands me. Fighting to earn enough money with a job, or jobs, that I like. Fighting to find a therapist who can offer me what I really need.For so many years, I've hoped. For so many years, I've waited. For so many years, I tried to be patient.That time is up.I'm out of energy.----It's beyond the words, though. It's the lack of emotional comfort. It's the physical needs, the great physical needs now, that go unfulfilled. It's the not feeling well inside regardless of what's happening (or not) with others.It's the feeling of community. The feeling of communal security. The having something to look forward to... something that you can think to, that you can count on to happen, that you know you'll enjoy or that will envelop you in comfort or warmth or closeness or depth. It's a sense of belonging, too.Funny thing about being a citizen of the world: The world is your homeland— too vast to be intimate and too open to really be a haven.Right now, one of my the most painful parts is the lack of physical intimacy. Good gosh... if only I could have that. If only I could let go of the words. If only I didn't have to explain myself. Have to justify my wishes.In a way... I'm too afraid of opening up for fear of getting hurt. If only something greater than myself could get past my defenses and comfort me.Here's to continuing to wait.And in spite of it all... I still do hope.
----Who would I call after this? After such a scary event that caused such emotional pain?Hardly anyone.I did call the therapist I've been seeing. Left a message. But I don't really trust her, since we're not such a good fit in important ways.I could have called the psychiatrist with whom I've been consulting. But I don't exactly feel it with him. Not like that.I could have called my best guy friend, but he's not one whose shoulder I would lean on. I could have called my best female friend, but it's the same with her.A family member? No.Another friend? Can't think of anyone.There's no one I can break down to.That's why I feel like killing myself.----The world's a very lonely place when there's no one you can open up to in the deepest of ways and feel safe.How did my life get like this? I thought I would have a girlfriend at some point. I never technically have. I thought I would wait until I was married to have sex, and my wife would have waited, too. Now I'm 32. No marriage in sight. And no more waiting.(And most everyone else, it seems, felt differently than me. Surprise!)Conversely, I can't find anyone now with whom to do it on my terms. No extensive emotional interaction. No commitment. No hearing about her past. No being teased by her.I didn't expect to get to a point where I just got so tired of fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting… that I stopped trying. Fighting to be heard with my writing. Fighting (or struggling) to find someone who understands me. Fighting to earn enough money with a job, or jobs, that I like. Fighting to find a therapist who can offer me what I really need.For so many years, I've hoped. For so many years, I've waited. For so many years, I tried to be patient.That time is up.I'm out of energy.----It's beyond the words, though. It's the lack of emotional comfort. It's the physical needs, the great physical needs now, that go unfulfilled. It's the not feeling well inside regardless of what's happening (or not) with others.It's the feeling of community. The feeling of communal security. The having something to look forward to... something that you can think to, that you can count on to happen, that you know you'll enjoy or that will envelop you in comfort or warmth or closeness or depth. It's a sense of belonging, too.Funny thing about being a citizen of the world: The world is your homeland— too vast to be intimate and too open to really be a haven.Right now, one of my the most painful parts is the lack of physical intimacy. Good gosh... if only I could have that. If only I could let go of the words. If only I didn't have to explain myself. Have to justify my wishes.In a way... I'm too afraid of opening up for fear of getting hurt. If only something greater than myself could get past my defenses and comfort me.Here's to continuing to wait.And in spite of it all... I still do hope.
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