My reclusive life

I've documented my sense of the unfairness I was subjected to during the collapse of my marriage here. 

 

Still, my ex was my best friend and my favorite companion.  Still is, though she hasn't spoken to me with civil tones in 2 ½ years, and she largely dismissed me for years before that.  The situation was toxic and I'm now poisoned by it.  She's embargoed me for ages so I don't even know if she's in the US or Canada.

 

Here's the rub:  when I'm with other people, I still compare them to her. 

 

With new people, I'm not as interesting since I have no new experiences, I'm depressed, and the weight of money, my mentally ill brother, and loneliness keep me from connecting.

 

Also, I'd rather be with my ex.  I liked her more than any one I meet.

 

I'm stopping.  I've withdrawn from all my communities.  I center my life around my cat, who appears to appreciate me. 

 

I'm celibate.  I'm becoming a recluse.

 

I was going out to local restaurants by myself and eating at the bar so I'd have some contact with others.  I've stopped.  I mange at home.  I'm a good cook but I eat standing up most of the time now.

 

I've had a few invites to meet new people.  I always have excuses to not show up, and I tend to not respond when those people follow up.  They get bored and stop soon, for good reason.  I'm boring.

 

I really struggle to return phone calls.  I only schedule contact with four people now, and that's irregular.

 

It's getting worse (no value judgement there—I'm already a world class Innter Critic).

 

Is this OK?  I accept who I am now…and can find very short moments of peace.  I'm thankful for the huge community of "friends" I had, and the fact that I was coupled more or less non-stop since  grad school. 

 

Hard to believe I'm the same person who had all that.  It's still me.  David Foster.  But a version of myself who stays in the basement if someone knocks on the door, and who rarely answers his phone because to do so would take all the life force I possess.