Loneliness is a strange and unfamiliar emotion that I've been having for the last year. When Dennis moved out last March, for the first time in my entire life I began living alone. Truly alone. Before that I lived with my parents; then roommates; then husband; then husband and oldest daughter, Avery; then only Avery; then Avery and Dana, my second daughter; then only Dana; then Dana and Dennis; then only Dennis. Then just me. JUST ME! I get tired of being only with me, only with just my thoughts. As good as they are, and I like myself and my zaniness quite a bit, they do get old and limiting after a while. I reach the same dead ends day in and day out when there isn't someone around to throw other possible conclusions or options in my thought pathway to head me down a different direction. And without work to distract me, it makes for some long days.
So what's a typical day like for me, you ask. I try to sleep as late as possible to shorten the day. Sleeping mask goes on when I awake around 7 a.m. (my usual wake up time) and I manage to go back to sleep until about 8:30. Then I may read a bit til 9 or so. Up, on goes the coffee, check emails and Facebook, and wander about the house. Perhaps outside. And wander. I wander about, puttering most of my day. I spend a lot of time on the computer, googling this and googling that. And I munch. Wander and munch. I must munch more than I wander because I can't seem to drop 5 pounds. I used to go to CrossFit 3 mornings a week and I loved it. But it didn't love me. It caused too much bodily injury I'm afraid. So, for now, that's on hold. My days fill up but I can't tell you what I've gotten done. I putter in the garden, I putter in closets and cupboards trying to clean stuff out, I putter in the basement. But when I look back at the end of the day, I can't figure out what I've accomplished. Accomplishments. Deliverables. I'm trying to let go of those concepts. I don't have to get anything done by the end of the day. And I seem to have grappled that, because I often don't.
Most days I spend alone and most days I don't leave the house. I might go for a bike ride or a paddle on the canal. But not often. I might walk to town, but not often. I might go to the library for movies. I don't watch TV or movies during the day. I do sun quite a bit. Feels good. Warms my soul.
But I'm lonely.
I have a dear friend and playmate that lives here in the village. And since she's unemployed right now, we often have coffee together in the morning or dinner together at night. She's my connection, my anchor. I need that. Without it, her, I'd feel like a dinghy floating in the ocean. I have no direction. No purpose. Don't know which way to paddle to find shore. Well, I guess, even with her I feel like that dinghy. Just when she's around I feel less lost. I can tell her all the crazy feelings I'm having and she lets me have them. She's patient and listens to my rantings and ravings over and over again. What would I do without her?
But when she's not around, she's got a life too, then I'm usually lonely and empty.
But this only seems to happen when I'm home. When I'm on the road, I'm happy, I'm powerful, and I'm in love with life! Home is the place I least like being.
And I'm lonely even in a crowd. Last night I walked up to our Tuesday night's antique car show. People all around, but I'm not connected to any of them. I have nothing to say to them, so I don't. Nothing happens that causes a connection to occur. So I walked around, alone, and then I walked home. Then I drove to the lake, alone. Sat in the car, alone. Watched the sailboats, alone. Then drove home, alone.
But what's really strange about this loneliness, is that when I'm with people it's gone for that time, but returns when I return to my house, alone. And it's not constant. Some days are lonelier than others.
I really appreciate what Pearl must have gone through. She lived to be 106 1/2 and she was lonely. Her husband died 40 years earlier. That's a long time of loneliness.
What a crazy society this is where our elders live alone and not with their families. When the time comes, my daughter Dana better take me in. I promise to listen to her needs and be as accommodating and easy to live with as possible. Just to not live alone in my senior years, I will do anything.
But what's the solution for today? More travel this year. Keep reaching out to friends. Keep building other relationships. Keep looking for Mr. Right. Explore Intentional Communities as a possible way of living within a community of like-minded people. And stay aware: aware of the loneliness, aware of the cause, aware of the solutions. Maintain consciousness. And all I have to do is just be.
