I'm Scared I'll Die Alone

TW: addiction, death of a parent

It was seeing my dad on his deathbed that made me realise he had spent his life alone.

I haven’t really written about it much, even though, years later, I still get the familiar tightness in my chest every time I imagine his lonely days.

And though I noticed he had died alone, I hadn’t really registered that dying alone was an option until this year.

I’ll spare you the worst details, but in summary, my childhood was tumultuous, and my dad was an addict. It was very difficult to help him, especially as a child and teenager with a limited understanding of what was going on. Addiction is a horrible thing, and my relationship with my dad’s addiction was a tricky one. Part of me felt guilty and sorry for him all the time, but I didn’t know what to do; the other part of me resented him for neglecting us.

It’s hard to step back and recognise the mental health struggle beneath the addiction when your memories of childhood include not having proper meals or clean clothes and being put in dangerous situations with a lack of care.

In adulthood, the anger faded, and the reality of it all became nothing less than intensely painful. Thinking about my dad sent me into a spiral. It was like every single part of me became numb, and I made myself suffer for not doing more to help. When I finally arrived at the point of understanding and knowing how to help, it was too late. He could barely talk in his last few years; he couldn’t care for himself, he couldn’t do anything really.

The day I got the call from my brother to say my dad had had a stroke, my entire life shattered into pieces. I said goodbye, and a few days later, he was gone.

The hardest part of losing my dad was imagining him alone for all those years, unable to speak, unable to function. I know I could’ve seen him more, but it was so painful to see him like that. I’d see him and spend the next few weeks tortured. It hurt when he was alive; it hurts now he’s dead. Overall, it just fucking hurts.

Obviously, I recognise I’m not in the same boat as my dad. Before my mum left him, he had a wife and kids and a stable job. Yes, he was a drug addict, but he had stability. My mum left him because it wasn’t a healthy or stable environment for her or for us, and I can’t blame her for that. I’m glad she left, but I’m also sad that instead of being able to pick himself up, he spiralled and the addiction took over.*

*Disclaimer. It’s much more nuanced than letting an addiction take over. Addiction is a mental illness and is very tricky to navigate.

If I were in his place, it’s easy for me to say I would’ve done things differently. I’ve been through a lot of hardship in my life, and I’ve always worked through it and created my own happiness.

My dad ending up alone was the result of addiction leading to bad behaviours and self-isolation. He was sick. He was struggling. I won’t end up like that.

…But what if I do?

In life, periods of solitude were blessings. Dying alone was a bitter curse.

Faye Kellerman

I should start by saying, I don’t think I’ll ever lose my friends or family. I’m a community person and I always find my people wherever I go. When I say I’m scared to die alone, I’m talking purely about romantic love.

I’ve spent a lot of my time recently exploring the idea that I won’t find someone to settle down with. At first, it was a shock. I’ve always been a dreamer, a hopeless romantic obsessed with love in all its messy, heart-wrenching forms. My wedding dress has been designed, my flowers arranged, and my venue options chosen. The only thing I’m missing in all that is someone to spend my life with, but I haven’t ever worried about that part before.

My approach to romance has always been that it will happen. There has never been a doubt in my mind.

So, why am I suddenly questioning it?

The first thing that sparked me to imagine dying alone was losing a friend over it. It’s a complicated situation, but in short, my friend was in love with me and wanted us to end up together. After years of assuming it would happen, he eventually decided to give up and settle for someone he wasn’t in love with. The reason this ended our friendship is that she was in love with him, but he was in love with me. I couldn’t support my friend doing that to someone, and after many talks, I said that I couldn’t stick around to see it happen. I hoped not being friends would allow him to let go of his love for me and fall in love with the woman he decided to settle down with.

Some of the reasons he decided to settle down with her were that he’s in his mid-thirties, and in his culture, people get married in their early twenties. He had a lot of pressure from his family, plus, he didn’t want to die alone (sound familiar?).

I've started to wonder recently what I would do in my mid-thirties if I started to realise I wasn’t going to find anyone. I wouldn’t settle for someone I don’t love, but I can understand the fear and thought process behind it.

This is what really made me start to ask myself: what if we don’t all find the one? I had been naive this entire time to assume that everyone will find their person, but in reality, a lot of people don’t.

The next thing that made me start to question whether I’d find someone was my bad luck on dating apps. I started dating again at the end of last year following my breakup in the summer. I wasn’t fully ready at that point, so I took a bit of a break after some dates in February. I haven’t really seen myself dating anyone I’ve spoken to since then. I don’t know if that’s because I still need more time alone or if I just haven’t found someone to spark that interest in me, but either way, I’m not connecting with anyone.

And the final thing that made me realise I might end up alone was travelling. When I went travelling, I met so many incredible single women in their late thirties. They were happy, independent, and free. This really made singledom seem idealistic to me. They can do whatever they want whenever they want, and they only have to rely on themselves.

As someone who doesn’t want children, the idea of being single is a lot less daunting than it must be for those wanting kids. But as a romantic, the pain still looms.

I go back and forth between loving the idea of being free and single forever, and missing the intense intimacy I get from a romantic relationship (I’m a Scorpio with an Aries moon - if it’s not intense, forget it).

How do I cope with the fear of dying alone? Well, here are the steps I’ve been taking:

Dating apps

Remember just now when I said that using dating apps is one of the reasons I’ve started doubting my ability to find the one?

In first place on my list of things I’m doing to combat the fear of dying alone, we have one of the main things that’s adding to my fear of dying alone.

Going on dating apps is a way of coping - I endlessly scroll through the list of eligible bachelors (gender inclusive) hoping the love of my life will pop up. The reason it doesn’t work is because conversations end up being meaningless, they don’t match my vibe, the search is boring, and the list goes on.

I finish my search with more anxiety than I started with, and quickly swear off dating apps.

But what happens when I’m not actively receiving validation from matches? I get scared I’ll end up alone, and the cycle continues.

Mindfulness

One of the main things I’ve been focusing on that actually is helpful and healthy is mindfulness. I remind myself frequently that I am enough on my own and that I don’t necessarily need to end up in a romantic relationship.

This doesn’t take away the desire, but it does help minimise the fear. I envision all the things I can do and achieve on my own, and it makes the fear of never falling in love feel much more manageable.

Forgetting about it

Stay with me because this may be the option that actually makes the most sense. I’m not one for avoidance or bottling my feelings (quite the opposite, in fact), but I do see the benefit of ignoring this particular problem.

I’ve only been single for 1.5 years, and that was because I made an active decision to only date casually following my breakup. Also, I’m only 26.

I’m not saying my fear of dying alone is invalid at all, but I do enjoy being single most of the time, and I still have plenty of time to find someone (the rest of my life).

My way of coping at the moment is to just let it be. If I find someone, I find someone, if I don’t, I don’t. If I become more desperate, I’ll actively try again.

I just have to remind myself that whether I find romantic love or not, I am worthy of love and it doesn’t reflect who I am as a person. This is the hardest part for me, since I have a tendency to doubt myself and question whether I’m loveable.

With self-assurance in mind, here are some of the reasons I’m deserving of romantic love:

• I care about people deeply and always find ways to show them

• I’m communicative and will tackle problems by talking and listening

• I have an ‘us against the problem’ approach when it comes to conflict

• I actively listen and ask questions about people’s interests

• I’m hot :)

• I’m romantic and will write poems and all that gay shit (I’m queer so I’m allowed to say that)

If you’re worrying about dying alone, write yourself a little list of reasons you’re deserving of love and remind yourself every morning. You are enough, you are loveable, and your worth is not determined by your romantic partner.

If you're struggling with addiction, click here for support

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P.P.S. Just you reading my writing is enough support. Please don’t help me out if you don’t have the means to do so.

Ok, love you. Bye xoxoxo