Some Thoughts On Loneliness

I get by on my own pretty well, I think.  I don't often find my mind plagued with morose thoughts.  I enjoy my solitude.  I have some pretty great friends here in Montreal, and I'm making more.  I'm independent and career-driven.  I can't say I really have much time for thoughts of loneliness.

But there's something about knowing how good it is, and how much better it could be, that gets me to thinking.

I don't struggle with this often, maybe just a for a moment or two - maximum a day or two - once every month or two.  For those couple of moments, or couple of days, I just can't help but think of all the great things I could be doing as part of a two.

Tonight I was biking home from my friends band practice.  As I cruised down the bike path on Maisonneuve I looked up and saw the moon.  It was huge and beaming down at me.  Something about the moon always gets me emotional.  Maybe because there's something in me that knows I'm not the only one looking up in longing.  I think the moon has felt more love, more broken hearts, more desire, more yearning, more sadness, and more wonder than any other celestial body.

It's like I was looking toward the moon for powers of teleportation.  Just to bike around the city in the warm summer air.  Just to stare at the moon.

There is truth and depth to the phrase, "sharing your life with someone."  It's what we want from a partner, from a relationship.  Someone with whom we can have a shared experience.  Someone we can show around, follow around, and show off.

For me, the quality of the time together and apart is so good that it makes the long stretches of solitude worth it - even when I get lonely.  But sometimes, I just want to go down the street and get Southern cookin' with someone.  Or go for a walk or a bike ride with someone.  Or see a show or listen to music or cook or bake with someone.  Or snuggle into my favourite spot on the couch and fall asleep with someone.

But "someone" won't do.  It's got to be someone in particular - that one person.  But it can't be.  So instead, I think about all of the things we can do together, whenever we get to be geographically together again.  Or I think about everything we've done already, when we were geographically together before.

It gets me by, but sometimes my imagination just doesn't cut it.  I want the real deal.  For longer than a few days, or a few weeks.

These spurts of undeniable loneliness make me impatient, sometimes irrational and insecure.  But for now, I have no other choice than to tolerate them.  I just have to wait.  And see.  And stare at the moon.  And wonder.

Reluctance/fear

It's easy to tell happy stories.  It's easy to make jokes and laugh and talk about the good times.  It feels good to share and motivate and inspire.

I consider myself to be a optimistic, confident, happy, strong-minded individual - but everyone falls every now and then.  Sometimes we don't know right away what's caused our recent low.  Other times it's just one thing.  More often than not, it's a build-up of things.

1. A different country (with a surprisingly different culture). 
2. New living conditions (mainly living beside a trailer in a tent, with parents I'm only just getting to know as an adult). 
3. A wrench in my plans (I guess I don't qualify for dual-citizenship after all). 
4. Putting my "No Plans" Plan on hold long enough to figure out some options or next moves (I can only stay in the US without papers for 180 days).
5. Not having any way to blow off steam with people my age (I haven't seen a friend in four weeks and we've been too far out of town for me to experience any nightlife).
6. Too much time to think (or maybe just enough).

I guess that's enough to drive a sane young woman a little bonkers.  So, I had a little melt-down?  So what.  It's understandable.  And just because you realize maybe you have a few issues with yourself that you didn't know were there, or maybe you're a little lonelier than let on (even to yourself), or maybe things might not be going exactly the way you had hoped... that doesn't mean that you're weak, or worthless, or that things can't still go your way.

That does, however, mean that a call to Mom might be a good idea.

One by one, talking my way through, I came to pinpoint each of my feelings and where they were coming from: insecurity, unworthiness, frustration, powerlessness, sadness.

Based on what I hear from friends, most people wouldn't associate these words with me.  But they are all spawns of fear.  Fear of so many things.  Fear of being hurt (again).  Fear of trust (if I trust, I let down the wall and open myself up to hurt).  Fear of inadequacy (when the only person I'm competing with is myself).  Fear of the unknown (what is next?).  Fear of rejection (it's not as easy to make friends now as it was in the sandbox).  Fear of being deported (ha! just kidding - I can't be entirely serious about this).

All joking aside, fear can ruin our lives - if we let it.  It can freeze us in our tracks, keep us from meeting amazing people, stop us from allowing a relationship to reach its potential, it can force us to settle for "known mediocrity" rather than "unknown anything" (we have no way of knowing how good or bad the unknown can be), and it can drive us damn near crazy!

I consider myself to be a pretty self-aware individual.  I guess that's why I was so overwhelmed when I started having these feelings.  I mean, I am only 24.  I guess I might not know myself as well and I thought.  And there it is again: fear. 

I'm reluctant to admit that I can't always be taken at face value.  I am who I am and anyone who knows me will vouch for that.  But I can put up a great front for all the right reasons - for family who worry, for friends who I think need me more than I think I need myself, for people who I don't want to get to know the "vulnerable me" quite yet.

Sometimes the realization can be just as overwhelming as the things that made you come to your realization in the first place.  It brings us back to fear.  Fear of admitting we don't have it all figured out - not even when it comes to ourselves.  Fear of shedding a few tears - because we fear that it makes us weak.  Even fear of overcoming our fears.

But, it's revelations like these that allow us to get to know ourselves better at a deeper level.  It's these moments of so-called "weakness" that make us strong.

So, I've decided I'm not going to call them "moments of weakness," but rather, "momentary lapses in judgement."  Strength is strength, and just because once in a while we crack under pressure, melt-down, breakdown, cry, sob or scream, that doesn't mean we are not still strong.  In fact, we're strong enough to realize when we should take issue with our situation, with ourselves, with others.  Tears are just our souls way of speaking to us, telling us that things aren't OK (or on the other end of the spectrum, that things are way better than OK - they're remarkably perfect). 

A quote comes to mind:

"There is a sacredness in tears.  They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.  They are messengers of overwhelming grief... and unspeakable love."

- Washington Irving

So cry, scream, call your mom or dad or bestfriend.  Take a walk, meditate, write.  Do what ever it is that's going to help you understand yourself and your situation better.

It's true what they say in the 12-step program - that admitting you have a problem is the first step in overcoming it.  We all fall down.  It's your choice, however, to lay there paralyzed, or get up, brush yourself off and make your next move.

So, what'll it be?