Schizoid personality disorder’s trademark symptom is self-imposed social isolation. Above all, someone suffering from the disorder will avoid human relationships… someone with the disorder is more likely to form stronger attachments to animals than people…
The disorder manifests itself by early adulthood through social and emotional detachments that prevent people from having close relationships. People with it are able to function in everyday life, but will not develop meaningful relationships with others. They may do well at solitary jobs others would find intolerable.
T. (a psychologist) has cautioned me repeatedly not to self-diagnose and I’m not doing it right now – I obviously don’t have it – but I’m starting to think that I will soon.
I don’t think I’ve told anyone this, but I didn’t simply stop loving A. I was a person who loved her, and I didn’t want to anymore, so I became a different person, one who did not love her. Even though I didn’t feel that way, I made the change by acting like I did.
- I stopped making excuses for her behavior, even though they were already formed inside my mouth
- I forced myself to put my phone away and not text her or check for her messages even though I wanted to, every minute
- I stopped arguing with my friends who said I needed better
- I deleted every digital trace of our relationship
- (There were no physical traces; if there were, I’d have removed those too)
- I flirted with other women
- I didn’t pick up the phone when she called
- I didn’t write or talk about about wanting her back, even though I did
Some of these felt utterly strange and wrong to do, things I previously thought myself incapable of doing. And little by little, through acting as though – as though I didn’t want her, as though I didn’t care how she felt, as though there was nothing left to save, as though I had moved on –
I made it true. I became first that person on the outside ( through my actions,) and then the inside, (my thoughts and feelings) changed too.
It’s the one of the hardest things in the world, to walk away and leave something, e.g., a relationship for dead when you carry even the tiniest spark of hope inside yourself that you could breathe it back to life.
It didn’t stop on its own, I forced myself. Because I could not live on that precarious line of our indecision, constantly torn between love and self-preservation.
In the end I don’t believe there was any definite right or wrong – only our separate realizations that we could live without each other.
I’ve been having this recurring thought, I may or may not have told it to someone or everyone:
I’m not a misanthrope, I want everyone to live well. I just want them to do it far, far away from me.
That’s not totally true, there is a part of me that wants that, and there is another part of me that wishes weird needy things like
- that it could be possible to non-sexually cuddle and sleep together with platonic friend/s
- that ___ or I would cry sometime in the dark like we did our first days here, now that we know each other well enough not to pretend that we don’t hear
- that ___ would call me when she’s sad like she said she thinks of doing sometimes
- that ___ would come around here more often
- that someone would knock on the door and borrow something and talk
- that ____ and I could write letters to each other again
- that I could join a movie night upstairs
- that some interesting classmate would talk to me
At the moment I could be one or the other, not necessarily a person who would do all those things but maybe in theory, or at least would enjoy them if they should happen.
If the outside configures the inside – i.e., if the behavior alters the thoughts as well as the other way around, then this behavior – as though I miss no one, as though I can take or leave company, as though I don’t wait for the call or message or the knock on the door, wait and hope, as though I can give my body and keep my heart, as though I can hold someone and not wish to claim her, as though I can “come to still waters, and not love the one who came there with me” –
Right now I don’t believe there is any definite right or wrong about this – only a realization, yet to come, about whether I’d rather be lonely or alone.