I haven't been writing here recently (obviously) because I have been so depressed and lonely that I just.....can't.
So to help, I decided to try the whole "turning your pathos into something creative & brilliant" thing by continually starting and re-starting a post about just that-loneliness.
But Noooooope.
And to be honest, I'm much more interested in writing a fun, light-hearted post for once! But, I do think this is is an important topic & if I don't get it out now, I never will.
When I first had any interest in blogging, I emailed a former colleague of mine from Harding University, Lauren Bryan Knight, the amazing-featured in National Geographic-on British TV shows & Garnier BB Cream boxes in England-writer of AspiringKennedy and here are a few of her main tips
•Consistency (blog often) *whoops*
•Intrigue (don't reveal everything about yourself at once. Make people want to unfold who you are, your story) *whoops again*
•Balancing fun without the crazy (people have enough drama in their lives. Regardless of how you might feel at times, don't vent on your blog- it feels good at the time, gets big reactions, but is damaging to the blog in the long-term) *WOWZA WHOOPS*
But if there's one thing you should know about me by now, it's that I'm a girl who doesn't just bend the rules, I smash them on the pavement and puke all over them.
Wow. That was a lovely visual. I wonder why people always say I have a way with words.
Plus, I am definitely NOT Lauren. Case in point. And that's okay.....well, actually, it's totally not. She is basically the American version of Kate Middleton. Like, it's absurd. BUT, she does inspire me and is totally lovely and charming and gracious and funny and adorable, and WOW this is getting creepy.
I can't help it; I'm totally fan-girling it.
I have never had the gift of turning my pain into a work of value, spare a very few published poems that I just spewed out. But typically, whenever I am truly, truly lonely, I cannot focus on anything but the feeling. I will call and text everyone I know, in the hopes just one person will answer. I will play the comparison game on Facebook (you know what I'm talking about!), listen to sad music like this classic, or really any Ryan Adams song. I mean, c'mon now. He is probably the most depressed (and awesome!) musician for times like these. I am also the master of being completely indulgent in feeling sorry for myself.
But while we're on the subject, and because I haven't posted in forever, not only did Ryan Adams favorite (it's now called a "like" for all you non-Twitter folk) and retweet me (like sharing your Facebook status-the ultimate coolest), Mary Steenburgen replied back to me after I reminded her of us meeting in Nashville. That's another super cool story for another day. And oh yeah, I got a favorite from Damien Echols, too! So, yeah, at least I'm famous on the tweet box.
But back to the topic of this blog (get it together, Beth!)--It usually takes me a while to step back, focus and analyze my feelings before I can write clearly about it. What can I say? I'm an INFP. Don't know your type? Take it here. Trust me; the results are so accurate, it will blow your mind.
So here we go.
lone·li·ness
ˈlōnlēnəs/
noun
1.
sadness because one has no friends or companionship "feelings of depression and loneliness"
The fact of being without companions; solitariness
"The loneliness of a sailor's life"
2.
(of a place) the quality of being unfrequented and remote; isolation.
"the loneliness of the farm."
Well, yeah. I think we all get the definition.
But why does it ache so much?
You know the feeling--that emptiness in your chest,
the way it hurts to breathe,
the hollow auditorium of your bedroom as the music echoes
off of empty walls,
the air sharp,
burning
acrid
slow aches deep in your sides
like cuts
reminding you you are
drowning in an empty lake where even the trees
stay silent as you are screaming for help
listening to their chatter back-and-forth
the rustle, the soft whispers
of the leaves and birds
singing a love song to each other
mocking you as you struggle
for a lone branch,
a calloused rock
for salvation.
It is when the moment you realize everyone has abandoned you.
Even yourself.
I believe it is one of the most awful feelings we, as human beings, can experience, because I believe that pain is one of the most intrinsic of teachers.
But why does it ache so much?
You know the feeling--that emptiness in your chest,
the way it hurts to breathe,
the hollow auditorium of your bedroom as the music echoes
off of empty walls,
the air sharp,
burning
acrid
slow aches deep in your sides
like cuts
reminding you you are
drowning in an empty lake where even the trees
stay silent as you are screaming for help
listening to their chatter back-and-forth
the rustle, the soft whispers
of the leaves and birds
singing a love song to each other
mocking you as you struggle
for a lone branch,
a calloused rock
for salvation.
It is when the moment you realize everyone has abandoned you.
Even yourself.
I believe it is one of the most awful feelings we, as human beings, can experience, because I believe that pain is one of the most intrinsic of teachers.
I remember a time when I craved alone time, and being an introvert, I DO notice that after a night where I'm surrounded by people, I cannot wait to go home, read, get lost in the "YouTube hole," watch my shows, and just....think.
I need time to internally process every event that happened--every look, word, topic, person, reaction, because to me, absolutely everything has meaning.
I so wish somebody could crawl inside my brain for a few days....just to give me some respite. Living your life alone has a way of turning you inside out, like washing, folding and unfolding the same pair of socks until they're just bits and pieces of their original fabric.
As a disabled woman, I have noticed a major change in the amount of social invitations that I am invited to. The biggest and worst thing that happens is when I meet people (I do it literally everywhere), we strike up an awesome conversation, exchange numbers, talk about hanging out & then they'll text me.
Text me.
For a few days.
And I'll ask them if they want to do something. The response is always the same. Nothing. No text back. And then, maybe a few hours later, maybe the next day, they will reply, talking about how they were sick or busy or some other lame excuse that lets me know they were never really interested in hanging out with me in the first place. Because the truth is, most people don't want to come pick me up. Most people don't really want to make the effort. And I don't know what to make of that.
I even joined a church Bible study group. I didn't join it to make friends, but I expected them to come along with the territory, especially because so many of the women there spend time together outside of church. So naturally, I talked to several of the ladies about going out to do something. Same thing happens. They will say yes then ignore my texts and come up with the same excuses. I especially love it when they pretend they didn't see the text until the next day. I mean, come on. Everyone has their phone glued to their hip these days. I mean that literally. My phone is permanently glued to my hip. Superglue. Works like a charm!
I talked to a new friend of mine, who is also disabled, and he told me that the same thing happens with him. He said that he was in the hospital, so he put it on the message board of his church's website to let people know. He just needed someone to be there for him because his family lives far away. He said there are over 300 people at that church and not a single one responded. When he went back to church, he said that people would walk up to him and say things like, "I didn't know you were in the hospital! I would have brought you food!"
First of all, yes-they knew. But more importantly, he wasn't asking for anything other than someone to just be there.
I cannot drive yet and I definitely think that has a lot to do with it, especially because I live with my parents in an area that is a little bit remote. But he, like many other disabled friends, is always the one who has to go to the event-no one ever comes to him. I know that it doesn't sound like a big deal, but it is.
You wonder if anyone actually likes you for you, if all the things they said about you being fun and smart and witty and intelligent are true. Because basically, what you're hearing is, "I enjoy being around you. When I have to. But not enough to make a thirty minute drive."
But, after months of really and truly thinking about my loneliness, it's always been a man with me, not a big group of girl friends, or friends in general. I am meant for a true one-on-one, personal, intimate, close connection with a man.
Nothing soothes me more than a broad shoulder,
solid hands encircling mine,
intertwining of limbs on a couch,
pressing of a mouth against mine,
the warm intake of his lungs
lips gentle, pliable, supplying
the presence of masculinity,
the opposing force to all my softness
of skin and narrow ribcage,
hands like hold me,
like communion
like I am going to pour myself out
and fill myself with you
until you are a part of me.
While I value the relational value-emotional security, support, a best friend, I crave the actual in-person physical contact with a man. No group of girl friends can ever able to supply that. And I don't know what it is about me that needs that comfort so desperately.
The worst type of loneliness, I think, is the kind you feel when surrounded by other people.
When I am with my family at on Holidays, I realize how alone I really am. How everyone else will curl up with their person, tuck their sweet children in bed, kiss each other goodnight and have that contentness that only a life like that can offer. I try to engage, to be filled by simply enjoying my family. But as much as I try and as much enjoyment as I do experience by interacting, overall I just feel an arrow shooting into the pulse on my wrist, slowing my blood flow, reminding me I will be alone at the end of the night....and every night.
I know, I know-poor me. I understand that I could have it a lot worse and try to remind myself that at least I do have some sort of family and friends that will come see me on occasion.
I try to remind myself of good times like these:
Plus, I think I was always lonely. Even when I was surrounded by tons of people and deeply loved. Here are some excerpts from an old journal of mine I found. Maybe I'm just prone to loneliness, maybe I'm just a part of the broken club.
Warning: Graphic language (for those of you who don't know me.) :)
And at least I have a father like this.
And loved, I am.
Yours truly,
MourningGlory
