Perspective is a gift. While mindlessly scrolling tonight, a chat in a DM stopped me dead. And as perspective does – it awarded me a plethora of thoughts to make me realize I needed to write. As always, I write to organize my thoughts and hope for some semblance of profound understanding by the end. So here goes nothing.
There were a few years I was really lonely. In parenthood, mothering without a mother, hitting rough spots in marriage, questioning things I never thought Iād have to. Trying to clear that hurdle of carrying friendships from a carefree young adult version to full blown adult relationships. Not everyone made it. I was ghosted by (not so) forever friends. With no explanation. I also outgrew some relationships, places and things. Now I can see, I was going through the lowlight reel in many aspects of my life, but I was also growing, outgrowing, and really, rebranding who I wanted to be.
After losing my mom, and becoming estranged from my father, I was lonely. I didnāt know it then, but it became crystal clear I was shedding the need to people please. I could no longer accept other family members, their toxicity, and their inability to admit wrong doing. I outgrew versions of myself I had invented to be something I no longer was. I lost interest in hobbies and tweaked my own traits to align myself with who I was becoming. Itās kind of wild to look back at this now.
Itās hard when people expect you to invite them into your world, to be there for them, to show up, to answer the phone, make the first move, and do the right thing. Yet on the flip side, that effort isnāt matched. And shockingly enough – you become the bad guy. Belittled, disrespected and dismissed. What a gift. To be the bad guy in a story you never have to listen to. A story that wouldnāt matter to anyone in your world, because they know itās simply not true.
While Iāve been giving all the credit to my milestone of turning 40, I snubbed the fact that I was growing internally. I was evolving spiritually, standing solid in my faith, and thriving in my ability to not only be ok with being alone, but to feel happy there. Once I named my feeling, and took the power away from lonely and harnessed it into alone, the real rebirth happened.
I know alone for me is complex as I have a family of 5 that Iām a very central part of, but to have all those blessings and to still have felt so lonely, was even more confusing. And felt like maybe I was even ungrateful. To have this constant expectation of me to act, look, parent, eat, pray, and love a certain way was sucking the ever loving life out of the very soul I was trying so hard to nourish.
Being lonely changes a person. Itās a road nobody willfully picks or expects to go down. Grief and sadness funnel down a thin necked bottle and then they sit and marinate there. The heavy parts sift to the bottom, eventually breaking down a bit. The contents dull in color, and over time some even evaporates, leaving a murky line where the bottle was once full.
But some day, that bottle is found again; itās picked up and dusted off, itās opened and cherished and needed and is even more precious now somehow. Because some day being lonely doesnāt feel so much like a bad thing anymore; but being alone feels like a gift. A gift of perspective, and pride, and peace.
If I didnāt have the time to myself, when God was closing doors, then windows would have never opened. I wouldnāt be able to share my vulnerability with a soul, let alone whoever stumbles across my blog. If I didnāt have that sacred time without fair weathered friends and the noise and the chokehold of expectation, I would never be where I am now.
So if you ever feel lonely, know this – it is temporary. The happiest people have seen the ugliest things. A positive attitude can only come from negative experiences. The most magnetic people have rejected company. The hard and holy work is just that – hard and holy. A wise man once shared this with my husband āhow do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.ā Dan shared that with me during one of the darkest times of my life. Heās admitted to me many times he didnāt know how to be there for me during the horrible weeks and months after my mother died, but he never let me be alone. Even when I asked him to. The only way out of your solitude is through. And if you find yourself there for longer than you can handle, reach out your hand, and ask for help. Happiness is on the other side. Friends are there too, ones you never expected to make. Complete joy lives here. So does peace. On the other side of despair is hope; on the other side of loneliness is together, and thereās room for everyone here š
retiredsequins 