by LUCY ORMONDE
About a month ago I was alone. And I was struggling.
I found out I needed to have a small operation on my back, and when I couldn’t get an appointment in Sydney (where I live) I decided to travel back to Melbourne (where I’m from.) I’ll usually use any excuse to get back to my ‘hood, but this time it made sense – mum would be able to drive me to and from the appointment and the clinic I’d go to already had my records on file.
The operation itself was no big deal. I’d never had anything cut into me before, but it was over in less than an hour and in the nurse’s own words, I was “almost too relaxed”.
But it was what happened after that shook me.
I spent the next couple of days hanging out at Mum’s place, lying on my stomach with the TV remote, a stack of books and my laptop within reach. Mum fussed over me (like all mothers do).
My besties dropped in for cups of tea and made the most of a rare succession of days where there were no distractions, no people to meet and no places to be. For a moment it felt like I was 10 years old again and home from school with tonsillitis; a mix of vulnerability and comfort all at once.
And then suddenly it’s Monday morning and I’m on the 6am flight to Sydney. I’m curled up in the corner of my seat in the second back row, and I’m crying into the hood of my oversized made-for-a-Melbourne-winter jacket. The air hostess asks me what’s wrong… and I have nothing.
How do I tell someone the reason I’m sobbing is because I’ve just realised I need someone to change the dressing on my stitches and I don’t know who to ask? I’ve realised that I don’t have anyone to ask. That I’m alone. That I’m not that close to anyone in this city.
I have people in my life – three gorgeous roommates, some distant relatives in the hills district and the most nurturing, beautiful group of work colleagues a girl could ask for. But I can’t exactly ask them to “spell check this news story and check the wound on my back,” can I?
Top Comments
Loneliness is obviously an important topic to a lot of people!
I love having three of four good gfs. I've found it's harder to make friends in a new place when you're older, self employed and living with your partner (rather than in a share situation). Doh!
I'm soooo frightened of losing my partner and being totally alone and ending up wearing the same pantyhouse two or three months in a row. Now I nag him constantly about stopping smoking. He is sick of my whinging.
I did make a couple of interesting gfs who seemed cool but they turned out to be nasty narcissists, I was pretty upset over that! When you're vulnerable, you're prey to some types of people, unfortunately.
I really feel I should have more friends after being here seven years and that I'm failing the test.
But I guess that even though it's been a very difficult experience on lots of levels, I AM becoming a little wiser (and I bloody needed to).
Good luck to us all!
Lucy, your story seems to resonate with everyone. It's not a great space to be in at all and I have only just accepted that's how I'm feeling and it's hard. So hard. I moved back to Sydney after living OS for 6 years. While I have amazing family and friends, the friendships aren't the same. I can't 'go home' twice. Feeling misplaced is what I'm struggling with the most. It's tough when friends/bf say "you'll be fine, you have no problems making friends etc etc" when it's just not like that. I feel so numb and in limbo. But I'm saying I have hay fever, constantly.