I am surrounded – literally surrounded – by amazing people who love me, support me and give me all the space in the world. Yet, I feel the loneliest I have felt for some time.

The benefits of living an expat life are that you meet so many fantastic people.* People that I know if I wasn’t living abroad I would not get to meet. People who maybe in a different life we wouldn’t be friends. People who challenge me to broaden my ideas of what I’m looking for in a friend. I am so lucky to have people all over the world that I count as friends.

*Okay, let’s be real – you meet some real dickheads too but let’s not focus on them right now.

The downside of an expat life is that you are often saying goodbye to friends and are forced to make new friends. The idea of having to make new friends does not overwhelm me with excitement. It’s hard. And if you had asked me some years ago, I would have told you that it’s hard for me and that I’m not very good at it. Getting diagnosed with cancer – you reflect on different things – one of the things that has truly astounded me is the amount of people that I can call a friend. It’s made me think that maybe – just maybe (because it’s really hard to admit) – I was wrong and maybe, I’m quite good at making friends. Even though it does make me nervous, it seems that over the years, I’ve done relatively well (but maybe be crashing some of these friends – keep reading…).

However, the period between arriving somewhere new and making friends – there are definitely times of loneliness. I felt it the most – well in the time that I can actively remember – moving to my current place. It was the first time – after around 15 years and several countries – moving as a divorced woman. I did not have the “safety” of my husband to fill any gaps of not having friends. I remember the first few months, I spent a lot of time on the phone – talking to friends in different places – to help me through it. And they did, I remember talking to one friend to get advice on the apartment I should choose, another friend about trying to navigate my new workplace environment and another one about the kids and their struggles with a new home and a new school.

That loneliness was temporary – rather fleeting. I don’t think I even recognised or acknowledged it as loneliness. The loneliness I feel now is deep-rooted and it aches a little (sorry for the dramatics – struggling to find a better way to describe it). Argh and the most annoying thing about it is that a large part of it is my own doing (I will eventually circle back to this).

Recognising and naming loneliness

The good thing, I seem to be recognising it and being able to put a name to the feeling. Look at me growing (let’s not reflect too much on how long it’s taken me this time round to do that). Back in 2020 (sorry, really don’t want to evoke anyone to think back to 2020), COVID days and a very rough period in my marriage (likely the beginning of the end), I wasn’t feeling good. I started seeing a psychologist and we spent a lot of time talking. Several months into seeing her, I asked whether it would make sense to do couples’ counselling with her. She said it was possible but that it meant I could no longer see her on my own (which makes sense) and that she thought I needed her because, essentially, I had no one else to talk to and was lonely. I didn’t really get it at first – I had people all around me – ALL THE TIME (it was COVID and hard to escape the confines of the house) – but I eventually realised that she was right. I wasn’t talking to my family or my closest friends about what was really going on with my marriage. I didn’t want influence them against my husband – as I believed we would stay together (another time I was wrong – in hindsight though – happy to admit being wrong here). I was also embarrassed to voice some of things about how I was feeling, the situation I had “let” myself get into and, honestly, about some of my own behaviour. Once I started opening up to friends about what was going on, I felt a lot less lonely and slowly needed to see the psychologist less and less.

And now – while I’m not trying to protect someone I’m in a relationship with and my reasons for not talking are different – I have been closing myself off from family and friends and I feel lonely. Two words come to mind – burden and exhausting – both somewhat similar and they are constant themes in my head related to my current circumstances and often projected onto myself. I feel that I am a burden and fuck, it must be exhausting to deal with me (because, I tell you, it’s exhausting in my head).

Where it all started

On my first year cancerversary, I was overwhelmed with weight of having a cancer diagnosis – the burden that I carried with me. Small things, like taking medication every day, the joint pain from the medication, the fatigue, the brain fog. Big things, like being conscious that my life would likely not be as long as I wanted it to be, the thoughts of not being there for my kids in big moments in their life, the impact my death might have on shaping their futures. It was heavy and exhausting. I was exhausted and just didn’t want to have to keep carrying it all.

I did and I do. At that point though, I started shutting down a bit. I stopped talking about what I was going through all the time with those around me. I didn’t stop completely but I reduced how and when I spoke about it. I told myself (up until very recently) that I had to do this – life goes on and I had to go on with it – I couldn’t keep harping on about cancer.

My timeline is wonky but at some time in the past year and a half since then, I have had friends call me on this and I have made different efforts to talk about it more but they were half-arsed (or assed). Not only because I thought I needed to “move on”, I also believed that friends also needed to move on (or had moved on) and that me sharing all my thoughts and feelings was really just a burden. Who wants to hear for the tenth time that I’m worried about my kids’ future or the fiftieth time that my joints hurt. I had become a burden and that really must be exhausting to deal with (again, I was exhausted with myself, so of course others would be too).

I have had moments of “clarity” over the past year and half that shutting down does not help me – that I need to take the time and find the space to feel the feels and think the thoughts. But in those moments, for the large part, I have internalised it as something I need to do on my own. Again, not to say that there haven’t been times over the past year or so that I haven’t cried and whinged to friends around me (there definitely have been and I’m ever so grateful to those people that have dealt with me in those moments). But I think those moments are few and far between (or just when I have had too much too drink!).

Some honesty, if I have to…

Struggling for a good segue and failing, so I’ll jump right in. Another reason I have stopped sharing is because no matter what I say, I don’t think I’m ever going to adequately explain what I am actually going through on a daily basis and I just don’t think anyone not going through this is going to really understand.* And it cannot be fixed.** So why keep talking about it? Why burden anyone with this crap, particularly when there isn’t actually anything anyone can do? But also, because why not have all these contrary feelings, I don’t actually want anyone to try and fix it (I mean obviously I do if they actually could get rid of the cancer!) – I just need someone to listen and agree that it’s all a bit shit – no bright sides, no silver linings.

*For clarity, I do fully recognise that everyone has their struggles and many that I cannot understand because I have not gone through it. It doesn’t mean that I don’t try and I know friends around me try.

**The idea that this cannot be fixed. My son doesn’t like talking about his feelings and when I’m trying to encourage him, I often say – I can’t help if I don’t know what is wrong. To which he responds, you can’t do anything about it so there’s no point. And I say, even if it can’t be fixed, it can help to talk about it. Argh, why can’t I be as kind to myself.

I will try for a moment to be kinder to myself, my shutting down is not all because of created scenarios in my head, I am literally exhausted. I try – don’t always succeed but try – to put a smile on my face and go through the day. I socialise, I have fun but it’s tiring. The medication I take is taxing on my body, surgically induced menopause is taxing on my body and mind, having a metastatic breast cancer is just all round taxing. I just don’t always have the energy to talk (about cancer or not) or to be more present.

Okay a little change of direction – welcome to my brain. Right now I’m frustrated with myself as I’m writing – whinging about this and that, making it all about me. I’m only writing about the impact this has on ME. But what about the impact on family and friends? I am likely being a shit friend, daughter, sister – not being present enough for people who are going through their own things. I don’t want to be a burden but I should and can still show up for them. I definitely need to do better on this front. Notwithstanding me, many do continue to show up for me – I am very lucky.

Anyway, so here I am, talking less to my family and friends (and as we have just worked out, likely I am not being a great friend to them). Those that don’t live near me, I avoid phone calls because I don’t want to talk. I create even bigger distances than needed. And surprise surprise, sometimes that does get reflected back to me, while in the minority, some people justifiably take the message – they stop messaging, stop trying. And while it is 100% my own doing, it feeds into my narrative – see, I am a burden, I’m exhausting – people are over it and moving on. And despite those amazing people that remain, I’m lonely.

No Answers right now

Right now, I don’t have answers for how to get myself out of this little pity party. The loneliness is just one part of a bigger picture of just not feeling great right now. I need to look at all the parts. One thing, was to take today off work – take a mental health day – something I should do more often. I have started engaging with other people with metastatic breast cancer and while it’s not helping the loneliness so much, it has massively helped me to be understand that I am not alone. There are so many courageous women going through a similar situation. I’m also posting and writing (when I can), it helps me to process and identify different things (like right now, that one of the reasons I stopped talking is because it cannot be fixed and it seems futile) that maybe once identified, I can better process. I also finally spoke to my psychologist today – after almost three months – and that is always a good thing.

I realise the obvious answer is to take the moments – when I can – to talk to some of my friends. Trust them when they say I’m not a burden. Trust them when they say it’s not too exhausting dealing with me 🙂 And to try and detached “burden” and “exhausting” from myself – leave it with the cancer.