By Lawrence Gartshore.
I should begin here with a confession. When I speak of abandonment, I do not refer to the notion of physical isolation. Deserted on a desert island like a pirate who mutinied against his captain. Nor do I speak of those days where you simply cannot bring yourself to leave your house, or even your room, and so abandonment is a by-product of your self-isolation. Anxiety, in these instances, is most understandable indeed.
No, the abandonment which I have found most keenly affecting is that which one concocts in one’s own mind. This is, in many ways, entirely unsurprising. If one is plagued with other mental health issues, depression for instance, then this notion of attached anxiety surrounding abandonment is not revolutionary. It is not unusual to feel as though you cannot engage in social situations because you simply don’t have the right words to speak – you should hate to make yourself seem like a fool!
Again, even this general situational abandonment is not that of which I truly speak. It is closer to the truth, yes, however the real feeling of abandonment, the one I would contend is far more palpable, far more common, is that of feelings of specific abandonment.
What do I mean by this? Well, I mean those days when you have had an otherwise fabulous time. You have been surrounded by friends; you have done the things you most love doing in the world. You have eaten good food; you have drunk good drink. It would seem as though nothing could ever get you down again. And yet, in a flash, a single interaction can bring you spiralling back down into misery. Five minutes in a day that ruin the other one-thousand, four-hundred, and thirty-five.
I speak here of those moments where you question all that you are doing, simply because you have convinced yourself that someone, for whatever reason, has a problem with you. It could be a stranger; it could be a peripheral friend. Most damaging, however, are those moments when you find yourself questioning whether someone you love, someone you consider your rock, truly loves you too.
An unread message, and you question all that you have ever said to them. Perceived flippancy in a pub, and you question every action you have performed in front of them. You question everything about yourself, desperately trying to think what it could possibly be that has caused this perceived angst. The braver amongst us may try to confront the issue head on, asking directly what it is that has caused this supposed animosity. Yet, given that the problem is likely to only exist in one’s own mind, it is deeply unsurprising to be met with the response of ‘nothing at all’.
This should put the issue to bed. Were one thinking with a sane mind then that would be all the confirmation needed to move on, dispel this strange idea of some permeating feud, and return to conversation as the dearest of friends. Yet, of course, for this issue to arise in the first place one cannot be in the possession of a completely sane mind.
As such, you allow it to cloud all your future encounters. They begin as friendly, but tense. Then merely civil. Then, when all possible avenues have been considered in your mind, the only solution one can imagine is that they simply long for space from you. That you have offended them so deeply that you cannot ever truly aim to rebuild the friendship.
I can only tell you how destructive this is. I cannot profess to take my own advice here – I speak from a personal position of weakness, unable to reason my own way back, ignorant of my own guidance. Indeed, such encounters are the only consistent factor now that cause me to slip back into bouts of depression. However, I do truly believe that, as with all other aspects of mental health, this is a battle one must fight – and one that is infinitely winnable.
Now, in some instances, loved ones have every reason to feel slighted by you. As I detailed in my previous article, one cannot apologise for having mental health issues, but one can and should apologise for, and acutely recognise, the hurt that you cause others as a result. That being said, I implore you to not allow this plague to permanently burn the bridges of loving friendship. I have read recently that coming to terms with the fact that certain friendships simply won’t survive is an important part of maturing; if you truly love someone, let them go. I do not, I cannot, accept this. Allowing mental health issues to keep fostering these damaging relationships is, in my opinion, incredibly damaging
Do not allow feelings of abandonment, feelings of anxiety, to cloud those most precious relationships. It is through those that we find the most joy; that act as the rock upon which the foundation of our happiness is built. For as long as you do, you shall never truly break free from the shackles of the black-dog of depression. And always, on a personal note, question whenever you are feeling down due to interactions such as this – have you actually had a terrible day, or have you allowed a bad five minutes to ruin the other one-thousand, four-hundred, and thirty-five?