Loneliness

When I was seven years old, my life changed forever. At an age when most children are focused on school, friendships, and discovering who they are, I experienced a thalamic brain injury. At the time, I did not fully understand what had happened to me. Neither did many of the people around me. What followed was a lifetime of challenges that often seemed invisible to others but affected nearly every part of my life.
The thalamus is a small but important part of the brain that helps process information, regulate attention, and connect different areas of the brain. Because of my injury, I struggled with things that many people take for granted. Social situations could be confusing. Judgment and decision-making were often difficult. Stress affected me more intensely than it seemed to affect others. I frequently felt different without understanding why.
As I grew older, these challenges followed me into adolescence and adulthood. I often experienced frustration, isolation, and low self-esteem. I knew I was trying hard, but my efforts did not always produce the results I expected. Sometimes people misunderstood my behavior or assumed I was lazy, careless, or unmotivated. The reality was that I was navigating life with a brain injury that many people could not see.
Like many people living with neurological injuries and emotional pain, I eventually turned to drugs and alcohol. At first, substances seemed to provide relief. They helped me escape feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, and frustration. For a while, they made it easier to ignore the challenges I faced every day. But over time, addiction created even greater problems. What began as a way to cope became another obstacle standing between me and the life I wanted.
Addiction affected my relationships, my decision-making, and my ability to move forward. It deepened many of the struggles I was already experiencing because of my brain injury. Yet even during my darkest moments, there was a part of me that wanted something better.
Recovery was not a single event. It was a process. It required honesty, accountability, support, and perseverance. I had to learn healthier ways to manage stress, emotions, and daily challenges. I had to accept that my brain injury was part of my story without allowing it to define my future.
One of the most significant parts of my journey has been understanding competency. For many years, people focused on my limitations. Competency is often viewed as a fixed trait, something a person either has or does not have. My experience taught me something different. Competency can be developed, strengthened, and restored through support, education, rehabilitation, and personal growth.
Today, I understand myself far better than I did as a child. I recognize how my brain injury affects me, and I have learned strategies to work through those challenges. Recovery from addiction has shown me that change is possible even when the odds seem overwhelming. My journey has taught me resilience, self-awareness, and determination.
I share my story because there are many people living with brain injuries, addiction, and questions about their abilities. Too often, they are judged by their struggles rather than their potential. I want others to know that a diagnosis, a mistake, or a difficult chapter does not determine the rest of their lives.
Growing up with a thalamic brain injury was not easy. Addiction made the road even harder. But recovery has shown me that growth is possible, competency can improve, and meaningful change can happen. My story is not simply about injury or addiction. It is about resilience, perseverance, and the belief that people can continue to learn, grow, and contribute no matter where they begin. #BrainInjury #AddictionRecovery #MentalHealth

Chatted with a person from 988 And they gave me this like a support group thing. I don’t know how to use this. I am sad Going through a break up and I am very lonely which One of these groups should I join?

i lost my mother to suicide. and now, i turned orphan by a living father

he is still alive FUCKKKKK, but he has walked away from us by choice. he cut all contact and no longer wants to know anything about my brother or me

i never imagined i would have to grieve someone who is still alive, and this person are my father, unbelievable

life has taken so much from me that sometimes i don’t even know how to process it anymore

i feel like i've had to grieve things most people never have to think about in their lifes

the hardest part is knowing that this wasn’t taken from us by fate, illness, or death, or well... a suicide

IT WAS A DECISION

sometimes i feel angry. sometimes i feel heartbroken. sometimes i feel nothing at all

i keep wondering if we deserve this, even though deep down i know children are not responsible for their parents choices

losing my mother was devastating.

losing my father while he is still alive is a different kind of pain—ONE THAT HAS NO FUNERAL, NO GOODBYE, AND NO CLOSURE

my brother and i are left trying to make sense of a loss that nobody seems to understand

we are learning how to survive without the people who were supposed to love us unconditionally

i don’t know what to feel anymore. i am grieving, confused, angry, hurt, and exhausted all at once

some days i feel abandoned. other days i feel forgotten

most days i just miss having a family..,,:.;;()))%)$

other thing that hurt most is realizing that someone can be alive, and still choose to become a stranger

my life is a fucking sadism of some god, thats it

#Loneliness #Father #Suicide #suicidelossurvivors #suicideloss #Depression #mother #passivesuicidalideation #SuicidalIdeation #personalitydisorder #Suicide #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Anxiety #heartbreak #Depression #MentalHealth #Grief #Addiction #

My grandson begged me to play Dungeons & Dragons.
"It's just one session, Grandma. Please. We need a fourth player or the campaign falls apart."
I'm Vivian. Seventy years old. I read romance novels. Watch Jeopardy. Play bridge on Thursdays. I don't do dragons.
"What even is Dungeons & Dragons?" I asked.
"It's like..... cooperative storytelling with dice. You create a character and go on adventures."
"I'm seventy, Marcus. I don't go on adventures."
"Exactly why you should try."
I only agreed because his friends were coming over anyway. Might as well supervise. Make sure they weren't doing drugs or whatever kids do.
Saturday night. Three kids showed up. Marcus handed me papers. "Character sheet. You're playing a wizard named..... you can name her."
"This is ridiculous."
"Just try for an hour."
I named her Elara. Don't ask me why. It just felt right.
The game master-a kid named Devon with purple hair-described a tavern. "You're all sitting there when a mysterious hooded figure approaches......."
For the first twenty minutes, I was lost. Dice rolling. Rules. Weird words like "constitution saving throw."
Then something clicked.
Devon described a dragon attacking our village. "What do you do, Elara?"
And I said, without thinking, "I cast a shield spell to protect the children getting evacuated."
Marcus's eyes went wide. "That's....... that's perfect. Roll for it."
I rolled. Succeeded.
Devon described my magical shield shimmering into existence, families escaping safely.
Something in my chest...... opened.
For three hours, I wasn't Vivian the widow. I wasn't Vivian whose kids moved away. I wasn't Vivian whose husband died and left her in a too-quiet house.
I was Elara. A powerful wizard saving villages. Making choices that mattered.
"Same time next week?" Devon asked when we finished.
I heard myself say yes.
Week two, I showed up with snacks. Homemade cookies. "Adventurers need provisions," I said.
The kids loved it.
Week five, I was fully invested. Bought my own dice. Fancy ones. Learned all the spells.
"Grandma's better at this than us," Marcus told his friends.
Week eight, something happened in the game. Our party faced an impossible choice. Save the village or chase the villain who'd murdered families.
Everyone wanted revenge. Chase the villain.
But I said, "Elara stays. She protects the village. Revenge won't bring the dead back, but we can save the living."
The table went quiet.
Devon nodded slowly. "That's....... that's really wise."
After the session, Marcus walked me to my car.
"That thing you said. About saving the living instead of chasing revenge. Were you talking about Grandpa?"
My throat tightened.
My husband died five years ago. Medical malpractice. Clear-cut case. I could've sued. Everyone said I should.
But I couldn't. Couldn't spend years in court reliving his death. Couldn't let anger consume me.
People thought I was weak. That I didn't care enough to fight.
"I wasn't chasing revenge," I told Marcus. "I was choosing to keep living."
He hugged me. "Elara would be proud."
The game kept going. Every Saturday. I started inviting them to my house. Made dinner before sessions. My kitchen filled with laughter again.
Devon's mom pulled me aside one night. "I don't know what you're doing, but Devon's been struggling. Depression. Anxiety. This game, your house........ it's the only place they smile anymore."
I didn't know what to say.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For seeing them."
Month four, Marcus asked if his friend's grandma could join. "She just lost her husband. She's really lonely."
Janet was seventy-two. Skeptical. "I don't understand games."
"Neither did I," I said. "You'll learn."
She played a warrior. Strong. Fierce. Everything she couldn't be in real life while caring for a sick husband.
After her second session, she cried. "I forgot what it felt like. To be powerful."
We're eight months in now. Our group expanded. Six players. Three of us are over sixty-five.
We play every Saturday. Six-hour sessions. We've saved kingdoms. Fought gods. Made choices that mattered.
Last week, my daughter visited. Saw the dice, the character sheets, the books.
"Mom, you're playing a children's game?"
"I'm playing a game where my choices matter," I corrected. "Where I'm not just Grandma or widow or retired teacher. I'm Elara. And Elara saves people."
She didn't get it.
But I do.
I'm seventy. I play Dungeons & Dragons every Saturday with teenagers and other grandmas.
And I learned this, You're never too old to pretend. To create. To be someone brave.
Real life took my power away. Made me small. Made me scared.
But in this game? I'm level 14. I wield lightning. I protect villages.
And somehow, that makes real life bearable again.
So try the ridiculous thing. Join your grandkid's weird hobby. Play the game. Paint the picture. Write the story.
Pretend you're powerful.
Because maybe, just maybe, you'll remember you actually are.