Loneliness

I haven’t written in a long, long time. Neither here, nor anywhere else.

I was too scared. I didn’t want to look into the dark places. I didn’t want to search through the shadows.

I’ve come back tonight because I need somewhere that am I not alone. Here, at least, I can find myself.

I have always found life to be a little bit lonely. In some ways this is self-inflicted: I have never been good at reaching out when I need support. For many years, my default position when I was threatened was to shut down, close off, wall up. If I didn’t let anyone in, they couldn’t see the damage. They couldn’t cause more damage.

The flaw with this logic is that it also left me utterly alone. No one could see the damage, but they couldn’t help heal it, either. That is a high price to pay. That is too high of a price to pay.

So yesterday, when I found myself in pieces, crying on the hallway floor, I picked up the phone and asked for support. The support came. It came again when I wrote to more friends. These are new behaviours for me; new patterns. It is better.

But this place is still so, so lonely. I think that these places, where our hearts break…I think they will always be lonely, no matter how much love and support we have surrounding us. I think that the experiences that shatter us create loneliness, because no one else can be with you in that pain, and no matter how much support you are receiving, in the moments that we hurt the most, we are alone.

At night, when we are trying to sleep but cannot find rest because our lives have been split apart, we are alone. In the mornings when we are in the shower and we end up mixing our tears with the water, we are alone. When we are travelling or grocery shopping or folding laundry or sitting in a bathroom stall, we are alone. We hear every thought that flits through our mind, alone.

Alone.

We are such social creatures. We need love and support and affection. We need to feel that we experience life with others. We need to share what we feel. We are reaching out across the divide, but really…I think we are just like Adam and God: always, always reaching. Always just inches, moments, heartbeats apart.

The deepest pain we walk through alone.

I feel alone. I have lost so much. There is a long, cold, difficult path ahead of me and I am daunted from knowing that I will be walking it all alone. No one is here with me now. And even if there were…there is no one inside of me to help with how it hurts, to listen to my thoughts and feel my broken heart and to really know who, and how I am right now.

Except for me. And I find there’s not much else I can do right now except to cry, and write. For myself.

Michelangelo's Creation of Adam

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