Phantom Family Syndrome

The Problems
i. I’m terrible at living alone.
ii. I don’t think the status quo is healthy.
iii. I don’t fit into the status quo.



i.

I’ve never lived alone before.

(Well, okay: literally, I’m not alone.

In fact, I’m very lucky – I have a room and a lovely housemate in a safe area (Crystal City, Arlington, VA). I have a job – bartending at an Italian restaurant. I have some excellent friends in my region, and many more outside of the state. My family is caring, and understands me. I have a lot of interests, and there’s tons to do. I’m improving as a dancer. I’m not broke.)

But there’s still something painful in my otherwise acceptable life: I don’t have a community.

I don’t live with a partner, or with my family. I don’t have a neighborhood. I don’t wake up next to a warm, sweet person, who tells me about their dreams. I don’t walk down the street and see friends, or acquaintances. When I want to see someone, I need to seek them out. There are random meetings, but they are brief. I don’t know enough people to create a critical mass of random-friend-encounters.

I got used to being happy.

I’m used to buying two tickets for every show. I’m used to cooking eggs for two, used to brushing my teeth while someone else takes out their contacts, used to walking to a shared rhythm. I’m used to having a reason to read aloud. I’m used to hugging more than 20 people a day. I’m used to grinning and tackle-embraces, and the ease of total trust.

I've lived in Oberlin for 5 years. I've been in relationships, with only a few months of single-ness, since I was 14. Nearly a decade.

I miss my karass, and my many little duprasses. I miss the way every member of my friend-family laughs. I am missing many limbs: I have phantom-family syndrome.

Phantom Family Syndrome is draining, even for little ol' extroverted, optimistic me. Vacant little me. I need to push myself to do things. I need to build up my own momentum– I can’t count on my friends to push me onwards and upwards. A life without positive feedback loops is hard. There’s just me.

A lone girl in a new city.

Between Johnny and my friends, this summer was nearly perfect. I started to love friends I’d never had the time to properly appreciate, both in Oberlin and DC. I was never unhappy. Every day was a wash of joy. Each day, I woke up smiling, and fell asleep contented. I had the spikes of happiness, and the long calm of joy. If you sampled my blood, it would be as happy-sweet as maple syrup.

Then, the fall winds started up, and the flock dispersed for different climates. After so much ecstasy, I'm left with no serotonin.

Losing John hit hard, especially coupled with losing my immediate friends. It was a nuclear winter after the terrible first blast. The heart is vaporized, and the body grows lifeless.

I got used to feeling so warm all the time. The cold creeps in so easily now.