Jane feels lonely both by herself and in the company of others. It’s something she’s never read or heard about, so she doesn’t know it; but it’s always been there. It feels like this: with herself and with others, unheard, misunderstood, without meaning or importance, unenthusiastic, cold, lame, disinterested, inauthentic, and forced, short replies.
What is that feeling? Like she’s there, touchable, visible, but isolated, unwanted and mute. The superficial type of loneliness, involves other people. But legitimate loneliness, the one that matters the most, is the complete segregation from yourself.
This is what Jane experiences, out and within, and it’s a hard place to be, even harder because she doesn’t know and can’t name it. She makes many attempts to help herself, sometimes leading herself even further from a solution. She exhausts her resources, drowns in her own self-help trials. She takes pills and consults therapists who can’t admit to being out of their depth or skill. It has all been wasted breath, the red herring blocking the truth.
Jane’s lifeline is a straight line from her head to her heart. That’s where she’ll find the person capable of healing and release: her normal, natural self. All she has had so far are opinions of who she is, not facts. All her self-awareness has been extrinsically accumulated, not considered herself, a pile of swept-up debris, filth and mess. She lacks the internal knowledge required to know herself.
But then she begins to wonder.
What about that response she gave to that question that afternoon? It was just a gathered, response, typical of her other self that she doesn’t even think about such things. But tonight, she does. How would she answer that, straight out and stark naked? And it leads to, what am I really like? What do I like to do? Her answers are terrifying blank pages, void of ideas. She has no recognition of who she is. She’s alive and warm, but without a pulse or connection.
What should she do? Jane has an innate sense that she has everything she needs to do anything she wants, to access anything she needs. It is big power. But she must first reach herself, everything else is wasted energy until that is realised.
Distorted interpretations and held rigid thought have served to ruin Jane, along with trying to create an empire of her manufactured self. She’s been working on the wrong thing, the wrong person, and the wrong life. It’s like attempting to solve a maths equation by way of mopping the floor.