My Solitude is Continuously Filled with Echoes of Blissful Loneliness

Prelude to my untitled memoir coming out later this year

Act 1: Breakdown

When I was in university, I sort of had a “nervous breakdown”.

A lot of things were not going my way. My expectations in college were way off and things which I had thought were going to work out weren’t going according to plan.

And so I have a “nervous breakdown”.

Sometimes when I think about it, I feel like it was an overreaction. But part of me realizes that going through that period in term actually helped me in the long run.

After my breakdown, I booked at appointment with my student center and asked to talk to a psychiatrist.

I was so nervous for my first meeting on the day we had scheduled. She introduced herself, led me to her office where I sat on a couch.

“What’s on your mind today?” she asked.

Two months later, she prescribed me medication to help with clinical depression.

Act 2: Home Alone

“Solitude is independence” — Hermann Hesse

I was never really social growing up. When I was born, my mother told me that I hardly cried. As a child, I mostly kept to myself.

The word best used to describe me was “shy”. A nickname they had for me was “Home Alone”. It was because I was like the Macaulay Culkin character “Kevin” who was left all alone at home by his family.

But I loved being alone at home by myself. I revelled in the solitude. I could talk to myself without fear. The fact that no one was watching me felt freeing.

In the presence of people, I would always “shrink”. Being the center of attention made anxious and I hated talking to people.

Act 3: Masking

“No one cared who I was till I put on the mask” — Bane

Here’s a secret about me: “I never really learnt how to socialize”.

I never learned how to get along with people in general. In all honesty, most of how I learned to be a “normal” member of society came from watching television and movies.

I mimicked TV characters, making mental notes on how they interacted with other characters, even studying their body language.

“I always thought you were a social person”.

Over the years, my “masking” technique has gotten better. Don’t think of “masking” as a tool of deception but rather my coping mechanism to try and fit in society.

It’s my survival technique as I navigate a world which sometimes doesn’t give grace to people who are figuring out how to “fit” in public.

To order to be perceived as normal, I’ve had to learn how to be a social person. I’ve been learning how to make eye contact when speaking to people and yes, I’m always consciously aware that I’m doing it.

Sometimes I try not to wander off when I’m having a conversation and be present.

Funny enough, I even have a mental checklist when I’m having conversations.

These are the list of things I’m consciously thinking when I have to converse with someone:

- Smile
- Make eye contact
- Ask how they’re doing
- Ask a follow up question
- Ask an open ended question
- Oh. There’s a lot of people here
- Do they know I’m checking out the surroundings?
- Add something to the conversation
- Do you think I’m boring? Am I boring?
- Did I schedule my plans for the weekend?
- Should I feel in this silent break with something? Or should I wait?
- I’m getting tired
- Let’s wrap up the conversation

All in all, it can be an exhausting mental exercise. Thankfully, I’m getting used to it.

Act 4: Playing The Background

“I felt better being in the background. That’s the way I like it.” — Stefan Edberg

I abhor social stuff.

The word “networking” makes me anxious. Being asked to “talk to someone new” at a public event wants to me want to leave the room and not come back. I worry that my facial expressions won’t mask that I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t know.

I often fear being impolite in social settings, especially when I try to initiate a conversation.

Throughout my adult life, I’ve been trying to play the background. I’m always in the back, trying to not to catch attention. Always observing from a distance.

I’ve found that it’s almost necessary or important to be in a “group” especially as an adult. Currently, I find myself in between wanting to fit in and be part of a group, actually being in one, and realizing that I do not possess the social weaponry to keep up with everyone.

It’s a vicious cycle when you want to be involved and then not liking the involvement and wanting to “check out”.

Act 5: Echoes Of Solitude

“Solitude is the place of purification.” — Martin Buber

The constant actions of consciously adjusting my body language, the tone of my voice and facial expressions to appear more “approachable” in public is exhausting.

I’m learning more and more that I prefer clear and direct communication. The social games of trying to understand social cues are starting to irk me and I don’t have the mental capacity to continue to endure them.

I am aware that I’m in a “minority”.

My dream, is to live on a beach front property by myself. The thought of being in solitude with no humans to interact with fills me with euphoria.

I constantly dream of driving to a countryside, and living by myself, away from the “noise” and away from people.

But sometimes I fear that this cannot be. Solitude should be in waves but should not be “permanent”.

At the same time, I want to be an “active” participant in society.

It feels like a paradox to continue living like this.

Act 6: Fitting “Out”

“Standing out is overrated; sometimes, it’s the beauty of not fitting in that truly sets us apart.” — Unknown

I tend to find most relationships confusing and conflicting. I used to (and still) take what people say to me literally.

“Let’s catch up soon!” to me sounds like we should set up a calendar date to actually catch up and converse.

But to everyone else, it just means “let’s talk whenever we both feel like it and not actually set a time and date”.

I’ve always prioritized deep level connections over surface level interactions. Small talk bores me.

New social connections are a big challenge for me and I’ve done my best to step out of my comfort zone to “reach out” first. My worry sometimes is that I may come off as “too strong” especially when it comes to female relations.

It sometimes confuses me when my interactions are not reciprocated.

“Did I do something wrong?” I wonder. Overanalysing and overthinking.

“Why wasn’t I invited to that thing when other people were ?” Further overanalysing and overthinking.

Sometimes I just want to give up altogether. Sometimes I do, letting social connections fizzle out over time. This has at times, lead to resentment because of the lack of reciprocity.

“Why are you so quiet?
What’s your problem?
“Are you OK?”
“You should [insert do something social]”
“I thought you were stuck up when I first met you”
“You’re different.”

Over the years, I heard these things said to me, either from friends or acquaintances. I try to not to think what others say behind my back.

When I was younger, I would internalize all this, thinking of what to do to “fix” it.

At times, I’ve felt “forgettable” and sometimes “disposable”, especially not knowing to navigate society’s mazes and double standards.

I’ve had people only reach out when they need something from me. I’ve never felt like anyone’s first choice. Even in relationships, I’ve second guessed my partners and their intent.

I was the friend summoned only as a last resort, merely to fill empty spaces, never truly feeling valued or wanted.

Going through all these rollercoasters, it’s a wonder I haven’t broken down.

Finale: Missing Puzzle Pieces

“Every one of us is a vital piece in the great mosaic of humanity as a whole.” — Jean Vanier

I’ve felt like I’ve had to break myself down just to be put back together with new pieces I keep discovering.

When the psychiatrist in university said I had clinical depression back, it was another puzzle piece I discovered.

Learning about being an introvert was another puzzle piece. Finding out things like social anxiety kept making the picture much clearer.

Recently, I’ve been reading more about autism.

I’ve taken multiple online tests, read multiple articles and it feels like another missing puzzle piece. Although an official diagnosis is needed from a professional, it would make a long of sense when everything is put into perspective.

I’m still looking for more puzzle pieces.

All in all, everything is not as negative as it seems to be.

I may not fit in but I’ve had the time and effort to learn new things, fitting into small spaces which make me happy. I’ve gotten out of my comfort zone multiple times and it has yielded lots of positive results.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have travelled to places when I didn’t think I could be capable of leaving my own house.

My keen eye for detail and my reliability on logic has made put me in spaces which have had good social benefits.

My superpowers are having a low tolerance for bullshit and inefficiency, and this has made me want to always improve and better myself while avoiding people who slow me down.

My search for puzzles pieces is still ongoing.

It feels like the search for the Infinity Stones in the Marvel movies. It might take a while, but the journey so far has been fruitful.

Going forward, I think I’ll learn to enjoy the solitude just a bit more. Until I find someone who enjoys the solitude as much as I do.

I’m currently writing a memoir. I’m writing about stories about my life from childhood to present. The memoir is currently not titled but I hope to realise it before the end of the year.