Ask Philippa

Nobody knows how unhappy I am, confesses a reader. You need to share the real you, says psychotherapist and Red’s agony aunt, Philippa Perry

Our agony aunt tackles your issues

I was with my husband for 14 years – married for eight – when, out of the blue, he announced he was leaving. To say I was devastated is an understatement. My coping mechanism was to take a younger lover (he was 22 and I was 39). But after several months it came to an abrupt end, as it did with my next lover when it became clear he wanted a relationship and children, and I wasn’t on the same page.

That was two years ago, and apart from a one-night stand, that’s been my lot. I’m now 41 years old, I have severe anxiety (although I hide it from people well), and I wonder, “What is the point of my life?”

I put on a big show at work, and in front of friends and family, saying that I’m content being single. I’m always well dressed, my hair’s done, I wear make-up, so no one ever doubts this. But when I’m alone at home, I feel my heart is broken.

I never socialise, as my friends are busy with babies and partners. I can’t bring myself to date online because I feel I have no real value: I don’t have children, I don’t go on holiday, and I have no stories to tell.

Last year, I was prescribed an antidepressant, sertraline, but after five months the doctor took me off it. When I said I wasn’t ready, he told me the medication couldn’t be a solution forever. But I am still deep in a hole and I can’t get out. Name and address withheld

I really feel for you. A long-term partner becomes an emotional home; if they go, it’s like a part of us is without a home, which feels devastating. Fourteen years is a long time, and you will have grown together. When he went, the parts of you that had shaped to him had nothing to prop them up.

Very understandably, you sought substitutes but you can’t get to where you were after 14 years in 14 days or even 14 weeks. Parts of you will still feel lost, vulnerable and raw. It takes time to really heal and find out who you are again.

It is as though you’re giving yourself the message that you are only acceptable to others if you are holding it all together. You’re not sharing the lost part of you with others and, as a result, they’re not seeing it. So that part of you is feeling lonely – and loneliness leads to depression. Your doctor is right: drugs are to tide you over, not something to depend on.

What you seem to lack is not a social life or holidays, but intimacy. I don’t mean the kind of intimacy that comes with a sexual encounter or even a steady boyfriend, I mean the chance to share who you really are and find out who others are.

What I recommend for you is group therapy. Here, you sit with strangers and speak your real mind – just as you did to me in your email – and you listen to other people. You don’t start with what you do or where you live or where you’ve been on holiday, you start with your experience of being and how you feel about it. You talk – and you really do need to talk – about who you are, and you listen in return. You find out that you are not alone, that other people have had similar experiences. When you can see that others appreciate you listening to them, it gives you worth; likewise, when you share your stories and emotions and they resonate with others, you understand that you are valuable. This process improves your self-esteem and enables you to connect with people and build more meaningful relationships.

When we are lonely, we tend to be on the lookout for rejection, which becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You need to take risks, to share a bit more of the real you in your existing friendships. Your inner voice will come up with reasons why you should stay in hiding – but the more you hide, the more isolated you’ll feel. Keep sharing, like you have done with me, and break the cycle.