Can I cure my life of loneliness, stress and suffering?

DEAR BEL,

FOR as long as I can remember, I’ve felt I never fitted in — like standing, looking through a window, watching the world. Or being in a room full of people and feeling the loneliest person.

I am 47 and have a 12-year-old mildly autistic child who struggles with social anxiety, separation and other health-related issues.

My partner (my son’s father) and I have been together for 20 years.

I am disabled and struggle with social anxiety. You wouldn’t know it by looking at me, as I’m the proverbial swan — all calm above water, but struggling to stay afloat below.

I work in an office, which I enjoy, but it’s hard with my disability. There are lots of changes going on at the moment, making me stressed and sleepless.

I look in the mirror and see my late mother looking back, which terrifies me. I never had the best relationship with her, but loved her regardless. My life has been one long round of bullying and stress.

At school, I was picked on for being a bookworm/being small/ wearing glasses. At home, Mum gave me a terrible time because of my closeness to Dad.

I have self-harmed a few times — when the stress builds up, it’s the only way to release it. I think if it wasn’t for my son, I would have died a long time ago.

I love my partner with all my heart, but he is extremely work-orientated. Sometimes, I feel my son and I are irrelevant, which adds to my feelings of inadequacy. I imagine he will leave at some point.

I have a best friend (whom I have known most of my life), but have pushed her away.

She was upset I was moving to a new area without discussing it with her, but one of the reasons was that I felt like just a sounding board whenever we met. She has a very wide circle of friends, but was my only friend.

Ever since my dad died, I’ve kept everyone at arm’s length — I’m terrified of losing those who are close to me, so it seems easier this way.

I have siblings I no longer see — my choice, mainly because of the constant arguing and backstabbing with an element of bullying, too. But I’m devastated I don’t see their children any more.

I would like advice on how to get some normality back to my life.

LOLA

Let me say that I have just finished an extraordinary book that’s had a profound effect — in fact, I read it twice over.

Called Man’s Search For Meaning, this short world bestseller ( first published in 1946) is by the late Viktor Frankl, the distinguished psychiatrist who spent three years in Nazi concentration camps, without knowing that his wife and parents had already perished.

Frankl describes incidents from his time in Auschwitz, then tells us what he learned from them . . . and that’s about it. But for distilled wisdom and humanity, it’s extraordinary.

What’s more, Frankl’s ideas have confirmed in me many ideas I’d instinctively felt, which appear from time to time in this column. He believes that

nothing (and don’t forget what he endured, what he witnessed) can extinguish the light within each of us that gives us value — as long as we are determined to choose life.

Because (he says) taking a stand against ‘any conditions whatsoever’ will give life meaning. He writes: ‘From now on the responsibility for survival rests with you.’

I want you to think about that. So much in your email is negative: you look

back at a life defined by bullying, you fear looking/being like your difficult mother, you have punished your body, you visualise your husband leaving you, you have ‘pushed away’ your best/only friend because (actually) you didn’t feel she was interested enough in you.

Still full of sadness after your father’s death, you have cut yourself off from a family full of conflict.

What does all this add up to? A woman suffering from acute stress (your son, the changes at work, your disability) who has never felt that her life had any meaning.

Your description of passive alienation will be recognised by many — and yet I am challenging the very tone of your email, which implies there is no power in you to change anything.

I’ll start by seizing on one part of your letter and holding it up to you as a flame to guide you. This is your love for your son. This is what gives your life its central meaning and it’s time for you to recognise that vital truth — and actually celebrate it. Loving and helping him is your quest in life, the light at the end of your tunnel. In that love is your growth.

Now look back at all those negatives and question each one. None of us can alter what has happened to us, but we can alter our attitude in the present. So you are not defined by bullying, or by your mother, or by the family you have quarrelled with.

Work problems will pass, or else you will leave. Your husband is not going to leave, and you need to get in contact with that friend immediately, because it’s foolish to push her away.

Telling yourself these things and understanding your life’s meaning is how to be ‘normal’. Time to take a stand against passivity.