Connections Might Save Me

And you too

Photo by Anderson Rian on Unsplash

Paul Simon sings, “Slip sliding away…the nearer your destination the more you’re slip sliding away.” Great song. The words are haunting and wise.

I am unaware of the origin of the song. I cannot say why he wrote it, but it applies to many of our battles with mental illness and addiction. I mean all people with myself included.

The neurodivergent understand living with a dangerous creature always lurking around our lives. It is often silent, but we never assume that it has permanently disappeared. It is like a person within a person.

It must not be too loud. We must have some handle on it lest it start giving orders and taking over. This is one way to describe mental illness, but you can choose whatever comparison makes the most sense to you.

I chose the lyrics from the song, because life can seem like it gets harder the more we assume the illusion of control. It is better to always respect those feelings that make some turn to bad habits to tame the sadness and chaos. I am speaking of drugs now, but that is not the only thing. I understand them all.

Everyone has a unique kind of creature clawing away at us. We may share a diagnosis, but the wild animal acts a little differently in each individual.

For me, I turn to isolation. This is almost as dangerous as my drug of choice. You see, loneliness is like the man waving those flags signaling for the jets to land. It opens the runway for self-harm and says: “Come in, I need you now.”

I am in the mood for confessions. I am ready to say hard things. Why? I am not sure.

I have beaten back mental illness and addiction until I am much healthier than during most of my life. But, I feel myself slipping. I can see myself in the grasp of the creature once again, somewhere in the near future.

I desire connection. This is the only thing, I feel right now, that can safeguard my progress.

Surrounded by one’s family and partner, it is easier to imagine living a life of good cheer, free of those repetitive behaviors that fill that hole in my soul. Loved ones give that immediate joy that allows someone to say no, over and over, to the bottle.

I need to communicate the following story to you, to help you understand.

I felt light instead of heavy, and this agreed with me. Actually, I cannot remember the last time when this happened.

There were lots of females around, and an old male friend I have not seen in years. I was popular. The young ladies wanted to learn more about me and what made me into this eccentric person who was apparently “the man of the hour.”

The sky was blue and the grass was green. I remember this clearly. There was a long road that I understood I must travel down on foot for some reason, so I started.

My buddy Tom was there arguing with me, as usual. We could not agree if we were actually friends or just close acquaintances. How could we not be anything except friends, given our trials spent together enduring the fires of life? I wondered this aloud.

I allowed no counter-arguments, this time. Nope. I held firm to my position and repeated how I felt inside about our friendship, no matter his retort. This too felt good. My conscious felt free basking in what surely was the light of truth.

This long walk was almost enjoyable, but something imminent lingered in my thoughts. There was a girl I was going to visit, and I must say serious things to her. There was no escaping what I must do, and it dawned on me that all this happening was not present but in the past.

She was the reason I kept going despite feeling fatigued. There is always a she that makes me work extra hard for something that should be simple.

The girl was known to me over many years. We were friendly but not close. I doubt I ever expressed one sincere word to her, but today must be different.

Apparently, Angie was an addict of some kind. Her parents were worried but for some reason trusted me to offer wise words. Angie was going away for treatment, and I knew no cliches would work this time. They never did. No, there was a swelling of emotion about my mission here, and no fear could dissuade me. Feelings came out of my mouth as if they busted through my internal defenses.

I told her I always liked her and wanted to be together. Further, I said that rehab would take care of her, that she should trust in the system, and that I would be waiting when she returned. A slight smile crossed her face. Finally, I realized that these were the right words to say.

I turned around believing that a strong connection was made here, one that could not be torn apart by the usual life messes. I walked back with my friend, still arguing, among a group of other women, happily now and without my usual pessimistic forecasts.

I woke up thinking this dream meant something important. This was a message intended for me, deriving from some force wiser than myself. I felt good for a while and then began questioning what this was for and what the dream meant.

If certain experts are right, and dreams are like pressure releases for pent-up frustrations, then the dream makes perfect sense. This unreal occasion allowed me to edit my life and do the right thing instead of the wrong, often-stupid thing.

Loneliness has been a theme of my story. Connections missed hurt like when you hit your funny-bone, but the pain is almost constant and wrecks my sincere attempts to have good mental health.

Yes, I think I have figured something out. I am not lying when I declare that I write sometimes to learn what I am writing about, because the dream is about lost connections. To add, what could be more connective than love?

Friends can be lost too. I noticed that the word friends is thrown around all the time and has lost its meaning.

Anybody in one’s orbit might be referred to as a friend. We might barely know them. We might call people online whom we have never met friends, nowadays. Although, I think a friend is something special and rare.

A real friend can tell that you are hurting simply by a look or what you do not say. I have had this naive sensibility that a friend is a mate for life even more important than a romantic relationship.

As you might guess, I have had my share of lost friendships; people who were once bonded to me who now are merely strangers. My mental illness, or my character, or whatever one might call it, tends to push away people who get too close. In the end, too many unions with other people have slipped and slid away.

Can you relate, dear reader?

Connections are so important. They are lifelines for a person who experiences intense sadness on a regular basis.

I see people all the time who exist behind an impenetrable, invisible wall. Somehow my words will not make sense should I approach them. I will only fumble and fail. Thus, I remain alone.

Yet I have felt a connection before, and it is wonderful. You feel “seen.” One can converse about anything it seems, and the fire that is meaningful conversation never dims.

These moments have become increasingly scarce over the years. I can feel the walls closing in. It seems like I am in some funk that is permanent this time. Relationships appear as improbable.

A connection can pull one back from the brink.

I think my dream was about second-chances, but such things must be infrequent. Yes, I am sure this is true.

My mind might be afflicted with some unknown disorder yet undiscovered or unnamed. I cannot get close to people, even when I prefer to. The girl in the dream simply represented many girls and perhaps many chances to end my isolation.

Yet, I see no end to it. Talking to people exhausts me in some way that is unnatural. I avoid opportunities to socialize except in rare cases when there is some deeply-felt topic on the table. But to get there, one must wade through endless hours of small talk that might as well be my kryptonite.

Mine might be a severe case, but I read so-called introverts writing about their problems all the time. Someone out there, do you have an answer?

Well, I do not make New Year’s Resolutions, but I have pledged to go on the offense in 2026. I cannot expect dreams to fall into my lap. No matter what, I must fight for the connections that will keep me healthy and following my purpose.

I want to enlighten others based on what I have learned. But, that cannot happen if I am constantly wallowing in my sadness.

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Thanks for reading.