Retirement exposes the loneliness that has been building for years.
As soon as I retired, the problems began: how old age uncovers a solitude accumulated over time
I am sixty. For the first time in my life I feel invisibleto my children, my grandchildren, my exhusband, even to the world. Yet I am here. I live. I go to the pharmacy, buy bread, sweep the little yard beneath my window. Inside, however, there is an emptiness that grows heavier each morning now that I no longer rush to work, that no one calls to ask, Mom, how are you?
I have lived alone for years. My children are grown, each with their own families, and live in other cities: my son in Lyon, my daughter in Marseille. My grandchildren are growing up, and I barely know them. I dont see them go to school, I no longer knit scarves for them, I no longer tell them bedtime stories. They have never invited me to their homes. Never.
One day I asked my daughter:
Why wont you let me come? I could help with the kids
She answered, calmly but coldly:
Mom, you know My husband doesnt like you. Youre always meddling, and you have your way of doing things
I said nothing. I felt ashamed. It hurt. I wasnt imposing; I just wanted to be near them. And the reply was, He doesnt like you. Neither the grandchildren nor the children. As if I had been erased. Even my exhusband, who lives in the neighboring village, never finds time to see me. Once a year, a brief birthday messagelike a courtesy.
When I retired I told myself: finally, time for me. I would knit, take morning walks, enroll in painting classes as I had always dreamed. Instead, anxiety arrived, not happiness.
First came baffling attacks: a racing heart, dizzy spells, a sudden fear of dying. I saw doctors, underwent scans, MRIs, ECGs. Nothing. One physician said:
Its in your head. You need to talk to someone, see people. Youre alone.
That was worse than a diagnosis, because there is no pill for loneliness.
Sometimes I go to the supermarket just to hear the cashiers voice. Other times I sit on the bench in front of the building, pretend to read, hoping someone will strike up a conversation. But people are hurried. Everyone runs. And I just remain there, breathing, remembering
What did I do wrong? Why has my family turned away from me? I raised them alone. Their father left early. I worked day and night, cooked, ironed their uniforms, cared for them when they were sick. I didnt drink, didnt celebrate. Everything for them. And now I seem useless.
Maybe I was too strict? Too controlling? I only wanted what was bestresponsible, decent people. I shielded them from bad company, from mistakes. And now I am left alone.
Im not looking for pity, just understanding: am I a terrible mother? Or is it simply the times we live in, where everyone has their own worries, debts, school, activities and no room left for their mother?
People sometimes say, Find a man. Sign up on dating sites. I cant. I have no trust left. Decades of solitude have stripped my strength to open up, to fall in love, to welcome a stranger into my home. And my health is no longer what it used to be.
I cant work anymore. Before, there were colleaguestalking, laughing. Now there is silence, so heavy that I turn on the TV just to hear a voice.
At times I think, what if I just disappeared? Would anyone notice? My children, my ex, the neighbor from the third floor? The thought scares me to tears.
Then I get up, go to the kitchen, make a tea, and tell myself maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe someone will think of me, call, write. Maybe I still matter to someone.
As long as there is a sliver of hope, I am still alive.
Retirement Reveals Years of Hidden Loneliness.
