Dear Vix,
I’m a 65-year-old gay man, retired. I’ve been with my partner, Ben, since I was 29. We live together, we spend most of our time together, we eat together, we walk the dog together. We get along well, we have shared jokes and we help each other and love each other in whatever ways we can. I’ve never been in love with him (he was with me), but that’s never mattered and I suppose we’re more like brothers now. I think of him as my “life-partner”. We witness each other’s lives and somehow give each other “permission” to be as we are.
When he’s not with me, though – he does a lot of things that don’t involve me – I start to feel a terrible dread. I find it impossible to imagine living without him, and this fear of being left entirely alone can be crushing. Even when he’s with me, I’m afraid of what my life would become were he not here. It worries me how dependent I am on him for my psychological wellbeing, and this worry can become suffocating and oppressive.
I’m not “other-seeking”. I’m socially quite awkward and generally prefer my own company. I find most social interactions, particularly with people I know only slightly, exhausting and stressful – and often bruising. I’ll cross the road to avoid a dog-walking acquaintance, no matter how pleasant or amiable they may be. But being by myself only works when my partner is close by or I know he’ll be back soon. When he’s not, I get what I’ve come to think of as “the swarming”; thoughts which circle and loop and repeat.
It might start with something I haven’t done, then “what does it matter if I do it or not”; then, “what does anything matter”; then, “nothing matters, for anyone, ever”. Continued existence on a dying planet that will eventually be swallowed by a dying sun. There are days when just brushing my teeth can feel like a major achievement.
I found myself watching a couple the other day on a dog walk – they were laughing, and I thought, “when was I last happy like these two, just happy to be alive?” And I can’t remember. I seem to have lost the trick of it. I’m lucky in a lot of ways and I know many people have far worse struggles than mine. I feel the answer must be to find some sense of purpose and to reconnect with the world in some way that feels meaningful, but that seems a long way off right now.
Lost in the swarm
Dear Lost in the swarm,
Your letter moved me deeply. In fact, it brought tears to my eyes. It’s so beautifully written and plaintive and encapsulates perfectly a feeling so many of us struggle to put into words: the sudden, overwhelming fear of loss; an almost obliterating, stark – but beautiful – terror. Your question is personal and close but is also existential and vast and wondering. I’m very grateful indeed to have received and had the opportunity to read it, and I know others will feel the same way.
How do we come to terms with the irrefutable fact that those we love will one day leave us? I know that that is something I battle with almost every day, as a parent. But all different types of love fit into this peculiar, very human malaise: love for our parents, our children, our friends, our partners, the planet. Love for the versions of ourselves which no longer exist; love for who we were and who we could have been and who we might never get the chance to become.
Love, I think, at its essence is grief (or perhaps, grief shows us the enormity of our love and our capacity to care about one another). Where you find one you always find the other. Hence, what the late Queen Elizabeth II said more than 20 years ago, while addressing the families of victims of the September 11 terror attacks: “Grief is the price we pay for love.”
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I see a lot of grief in your letter. I think I can detect some mourning that the nature of your relationship with your partner has changed; that while your lives remain intertwined and connected, you are in a different stage now that you are in your sixties – one that has twisted and altered away from the initial heady romance and physicality of being young and consumed by passion. I hear you when you say you dislike being left alone and worry about your partner’s independent enjoyment of activities – and physical safety – when he is away from you. And I understand when you say you are worried about the strength of your own feelings; the co-dependency you sense dancing at the edges of your relationship; your “need” to be with him, always – and the panic you feel when he is far away.
I hear it and understand it, and I now want to break my advice down into some separate components, in the hope it may offer you a helpful structure in how to deal with these enormous, frightening feelings.
Confide in your partner
Your description of being “like brothers” (but also “life partners”), of “bearing witness” and giving each other “permission” to be your authentic selves, is the very definition of unconditional love. And that’s how I know that when I say it is important – even vital – that you confide in Ben about how you are feeling, you will understand and accept it. He is your life partner – let him rise to that challenge. Allow him to “bear witness” to your pain, your fear and your loneliness, too. Let him in. It will only bring you closer. For a practical tip: if you find it hard to talk about your feelings, do it while you’re out walking or driving together instead. It can lower the pressure if you are doing something active and if you take away eye contact (particularly if you have any sensory issues or don’t feel entirely comfortable in social situations).
Seek professional help
I’m concerned that you may be experiencing some signs of depression, given that you say you have “lost the trick” of how to enjoy living, or your joie de vivre. New research on depression last year found that 79 per cent of people aged 55 years and above who are suffering from depression say the condition makes them feel like “nothing will get better”. What you have written about sometimes feeling like “nothing matters” seems to speak to this mindset.
I would like you, however, to banish any comparisons from your mind – too often, people chastise themselves for feeling low because there are wars taking place elsewhere, or because they seemingly “have it easy” compared to others suffering. In my view, if you’re suffering – you’re suffering. And any amount of suffering is entirely valid. Please don’t diminish it (or yourself) or think it doesn’t matter. It does.
Depression in adults is as common as it is in young people – one in five older people experience “late onset” depression, according to the Mental Health Foundation (MHF) – but it can be harder to spot. Are you experiencing any significant physical symptoms that are different to usual since you’ve been feeling like this? I ask because while “typical” signs of depression include persistent low mood and loss of interest in activities, older people may be more likely to have physical symptoms, too – such as fatigue, sleep disturbances and a loss of appetite.
Importantly, if this is the case, I want to reassure you that it is treatable. It would be worth your while reading a little bit about your options on Age UK – help is available, and I would urge you to seek it. I’d start by going to your GP and describing the physical and emotional symptoms you’ve been experiencing. You do not have to go through this alone.
Completing simple tasks
If you are feeling low, it can affect your motivation and energy, making routine tasks like getting out of bed or brushing your teeth feel exactly as you have described: as being like an insurmountable challenge or a “major achievement”. Self-neglect is also a very common sign of depression – and you do not have to feel ashamed about it. However, there are some simple tricks for keeping on top of your hygiene when you’re having a rough patch. The simplest mantra is the “better than nothing” approach: meaning that you don’t have to fixate on living up to a full, two-minute, twice-a-day routine – because any oral hygiene is better than none at all. If you are finding it hard, try to make sure you at least rinse with mouthwash for a few seconds, smear toothpaste on your teeth with your finger or brush your teeth in the shower (if you feel able to take a shower) to minimise time and physical exhaustion. Chew sugar-free gum to freshen up, too, if it helps.
Overthinking
I really hear you when you talk about “the swarming”; thoughts which circle and loop and repeat. Anxiety-driven rumination can make you feel like you’re going mad. Your thoughts exist in an excruciating, passive, repetitive cycle, making you feel stressed and suffocated.
Some experts suggest managing these ruminations by setting a “worry timer”, practicing a simple 5-4-3-2-1 mindfulness trick which harnesses sensory grounding techniques – or taking long, deep, slow breaths. I would also try to identify, in your daily routine, any specific triggers that “set off” this kind of circular anxious thinking. Is it when your partner leaves the house? If so, tell him about it. It doesn’t mean he should stop leaving the house, by any means – but sometimes, naming the problem lessens its power.
While rumination isn’t a psychological disorder in itself, it can be linked with other issues, including anxiety, depression and OCD, so it’s important to seek help with these symptoms. “Rumination is like getting stuck in a conversation with yourself,” Jacqueline Olds, a psychiatrist at Massachusetts General Hospital, told Harvard Women’s Health Watch. “In essence, your brain is tricking you into believing you’re figuring out something useful. But it’s usually a trap: thinking endlessly about a problem often doesn’t solve anything – it just proves exhausting, stealing your focus from things you’d rather be doing.”
The good news is that you can get professional advice on how to deal with it, particularly if it’s affecting your sleep and wellbeing. Dr Olds recommends psychodynamic therapy (which seeks insights into the root cause of the behaviour) or cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT, which focuses on behavioural change). I would start by asking your GP to refer you. In the meantime, there are several tricks you can use.
Disrupting the cycle
Find a distraction: Try doing some exercise, going for a walk, calling a friend or relative or cleaning out a drawer. Read, watch a film or listen to music. Play sport or draw. Choose an activity you enjoy.
Talk to yourself: Yes, really! Positive self-talk can have huge benefits. Speak to yourself as you would to a partner or best friend if they said they were feeling down. Remind yourself of your many great qualities. Of your achievements. Tell yourself how capable you are.
Be present: If you’re feeling “stuck” or “paralysed” in a loop or “swarm”, try simply narrating out loud what you are doing and what you intend to do to get yourself moving again, eg: “I am going to walk into the kitchen and make a cup of tea. Now, I am making a cup of tea and I am going to sit down and drink the tea.” It can help lessen the enormity of negative thoughts and keep you present and grounded.
Change locations: Dr Olds recommends identifying a “happy place”, which could be a local park, a high street, a library or a coffee shop. When you feel anxious or down, try changing your environment – it may help change your internal setting, too.
Be accepting: I find it enormously helpful, when I’m worried or anxious, to practice some self-compassion. To note the feelings and validate them: “I’m feeling pretty anxious about that right now” – but then to tell myself that it’s OK and that it will pass. Sometimes, I find it helps to write it all down in a journal.
Find a mantra: Try repeating these phrases when you feel overwhelmed or anxious: “I am safe”, “I’ve got this”, “I am enough”, “This will pass”, “I can handle it” – or make up your own.
Reconnecting with nature
All of us need to get back in touch with nature. We know that we are facing a mental health crisis in this country, with almost two-thirds of people reporting they have experienced a mental health problem – and this rises to seven in every 10 women, young adults and people living alone. Research also shows that moving to greener areas improves people’s mental wellbeing for the long term – as does seeking access to green spaces, if you live in a city. It may sound trite, but nature saves me. When I feel bad or stuck inside my own head, I make for the trees every time. I’d like you to get outside and feel the sun on your skin as soon as you feel “the swarm” descending. Stomp around, look up, leave your phone at home – and breathe.
Finding a purpose
Helping others has a profound mutual benefit: it has been shown to help lower stress, boost mental wellbeing and re-establish purpose by building our sense of community. I completely appreciate that you are socially anxious, but I would urge you to consider volunteering – even for just one hour a week. It will help prove to you how invaluable and appreciated you are. I also think that establishing an independent life away from your partner will help lessen the panicky co-dependency you’ve been experiencing. If you can find your own community, outside of your relationship – and friends – it will help you live satisfying, interdependent lives with one another.
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