BEL MOONEY: I grew up with only hate, so will I ever find love?

Dear Bel,

I had a very hard upbringing in a terrible family; no love, only hate, punishment and fear. I was never treated as a person.

Although I knew I was nothing like those who said and did terrible things to me, the consequences have been profound.

I’m nothing like them because I treat people with respect. Amazingly, perhaps, I have empathy, understanding and patience, and a lot of love to give. I have always longed for a good, loving relationship.

I’ve been single now for two years of sheer hell. A number of dating sites have been horrendous. I am not expecting to find Miss Perfect — in fact I’d feel uneasy if I met such a person.

All I want is a woman full of love who is loyal, faithful, empathetic, considerate and honest.

But my dating experiences have been nothing like this. There are scammers who just want your money and don’t care if they screw up your mind in the process.

Why are many people only on these sites for ego and don’t give a damn how they treat others?

I am so lonely, and just want to be in a loving, happy relationship, but it never happens. Now in my 50s, I can’t see things ever improving. My self-confidence, never that high, is at rock bottom. Some people are happy on their own, but not me. Without a normal, loving relationship, life is really so empty.

I’ve always lived in hope and the only times I’ve known real happiness came when I was in a relationship in which we both madly loved one another and enjoyed doing things together.

Honestly, I’m not so self-obsessed as it might sound. Throughout lockdown and afterwards, I’ve been helping many people I know with shopping and making sure they don’t feel forgotten.

I’m actually not shy and do know how to have fun. People think I’m strong and bounce back from awful experiences, but it’s not true. I’m not strong — just still alive. But existing rather than living.

I have tried other ways of meeting people but none of them have come to anything and have often made me feel even worse. At least on a dating site everyone seems to be looking for the same thing, though in reality it isn’t so. I just don’t know where to go from here and am really desperate.

EDMUND

Let me say it moved me greatly that you began your uncut email by telling me you read this column each week and feel ‘gobsmacked’ by ‘some of the heartrending stories’.

Yes, you have empathy. You went on to ‘wonder how people can treat each other like that’.

Well might you puzzle over that bitter reality, given your appallingly sad start in life. We can only imagine the nature of your suffering . . . and weep for the unloved little boy who grew up to be a man in middle-age, still longing for love.

I’d really like to know if you have ever sought help in the form of psychotherapy or counselling to explore your upbringing and attempt to lay the demons to rest.

You ended your original email with a plea for anonymity because you are afraid of your family discovering where you are — and used the term ‘extreme fear’. Rest assured, I always change the names of the readers whose letters I print to protect their identies. But your request worries me. Fear of what?

Surely you really need to talk about this with somebody with professional experience who can help you explore trauma. Do look at the website of the British Association of Counselling and Psychotherapy (bacp.co.uk) and give serious consideration to finding somebody near you to talk to. In my opinion, this is far more important at this stage than dating websites.

One thing to explore as well is why your happy relationship didn’t last. You describe it so lyrically (‘we both madly loved one another and enjoyed doing things together’), so it would be helpful to know what went wrong and why. I believe you when you say that you have so much to give a relationship and clearly that worked once. The good aspects of that time need to be built on — but need analysis.

How to meet people and form relationships is a recurring question of any advice column and there are no quick fixes.

You have tried various ways and been disappointed. Yet believe me when I tell you that there are plenty of women who would love to meet a single man like you.

But what can you do about the ‘baggage’ you carry?

Many people have issues but you’re aware you may be more damaged than most.

That’s why I urge you to regard some sort of therapy as an essential investment right now. But please never tell me, ‘I can’t see things ever improving’ — because that’s like pouring poison on a plant.

Those dead, defeated words lock up all the love that’s in your heart by denying that very hope you cling to. Don’t do it. Explore the type of help available (look at EMDR therapy, for example) and make this your stepping stone to the next stage of life.

 How can I escape my Covid prison?

Dear Bel,

I’m not sure there’s a solution, so I’m writing to express my feelings, as I don’t want to burden friends. Everybody has difficulties, I know.

My situation might seem self-indulgent to those in abusive relationships. I have a loyal husband, unfailingly kind and thoughtful. So why do I feel despondent, powerless, angry — and guilty?

We’re both 73, in a long second marriage. The usual ups and downs: redundancy, loss of pension, downsizing. Then illness. My husband John developed a cancer with serious complications that left him with a damaged immune system. His symptoms control our lives, changing from day to day.

I never know how he will be. He’s always fatigued and takes a complicated regime of medication. He’s very stoical but still (of course) ‘shielded’. Before Covid, I built support into my life. But Pilates, keep-fit classes and lunch with friends all had to stop. These were lifesavers and John was always happy for me to go.

He’s a very introverted person and doesn’t seem to need people, apart from me. His married son lives in Norfolk; they text but are not close. I have a married daughter and teenage granddaughter about 18 miles away, but lockdown has made me realise how peripheral we are to their lives. A weekly phone call at best.

I try to be positive but the pandemic has exacerbated my anger about the impact of John’s illness (clearly not his fault), guilt at being selfish and the reality of how powerless we both are to change things. John’s health is not going to improve so I have to deal with this, but I’m finding it very difficult.

BRENDA

Truly, you have no need to apologise for these feelings, or worry what others might think. I am learning more each day about the terrible fallout from the virus in terms of mental health.

Even normally strong, high-achieving people (without a sick partner and a life as restricted as yours has to be) have been side-swiped by the past few months and left with a range of negative feelings, from bewilderment to pessimistic apathy to real depression. What’s more, I don’t mind confessing I have teetered on the brink myself. Strange as it may seem, I’d liken such emotions to bereavement.

Many people are mourning the life they had — or rather, the life we all had. For all the good memories of clapping and helping and Zooming and ‘Blitz spirit’, there is also the unsettling conviction that our lives were snatched away and we were imprisoned, with fear of what the future may or may not hold. I feel we’re all marking time, try as we might to put one step in front of the other. And yes — it’s grim.

There you are, still forced (by his health) to remain locked in with your lovely husband — but wanting desperately to break out of prison. I completely understand your feelings.

Don’t beat yourself up for being ‘selfish’, but try to work out a way through this very real problem. You see, it’s neither your fault nor John’s; it is the ‘fault’ of the colossal ill-fortune that hit the world in the shape of coronavirus.

Have you talked to John about how you feel? Bottling it up will make you feel worse, and I doubt you have to be a martyr to this generous man.

Why not ask one of your friends to make a socially distanced visit, preferable wearing a clear visor-mask so your expression can be seen. (You can buy them online.) If you asked your GP’s advice and explained your mental health is suffering, I am sure he/she would think it possible, with all precautions. Your friend could stand several metres away.

Do you talk to friends on WhatsApp or FaceTime — and if not, why not? Why would this ‘burden’ them?

And what about your daughter and granddaughter? You seem to believe they’re not bothered; I reckon you need to see their faces on a screen and re-make your relationship through ‘meetings’.

You really can put yourself newly in charge in such ways. I agree that how each of us responds to circumstances is a choice. It might help you to keep a daily gratitude notebook in which you write positive things. You may feel that life is diminished, but sound as if you have it in you to rebuild it again. I wish you strength.

And finally…The garden of life can make you bloom . . . 

I was talking to a (younger) friend about loneliness, parents and many other things. She said ruefully that when she telephones her mother she’s often admonished for not ringing the day before — or for something else.

The result is … yes … she finds herself reluctant to make that call, because no adult woman likes to be spoken to like a naughty teenager at fault. It’s easy to see how this can start a downward spiral, ending in hurt feelings and irritation.

We talked about inner resources. Many people who live alone have a passion for gardening, reading, sewing, cooking, crafting etc — and the activity makes the lack of human contact easier to bear. Without that something, the hours crawl. Not even binge watching box sets can fill that hole.

The moral of the story is, ‘cultivate your garden’ (as a famous poet once wrote), using the word ‘garden’ as a symbol for anything which gives the inner you something to sustain it.

If you don’t cultivate a hobby/sport/pastime when you are young, you become an old person with nothing to fall back on. That’s why reader Susan wants me to draw attention to the University of the Third Age, which I’m glad to do.

Loneliness is a perennial issue for this column — both last week and this I’ve featured emails from men so afflicted. Last week, ‘Sam’ made the telling point that people’s emergence from hibernation throws his solitary life into painful contrast.

In response to my effort at an encouraging reply, a lady called J berated me for being ‘utterly useless’ and went on: ‘Before handing out near platitudes on how not to bewail loneliness please get some facts before you write… My words will not make an atom of difference, but may just make you connect with people to whom you write.’

Ouch. Why be so nasty? I’m afraid that lady made me reflect ruefully that sometimes people are lonely because they don’t cultivate kindness as an essential inner resource.