[Disclaimer: I know I go on and on and on about the same shit but… well… I guess you don’t have to read it. So, I guess I shouldn’t feel bad. But believe me, the reason I write is to figure things out and I don’t always figure things out the first time. It takes practice and practice and more practice for me to change my so-called bad habits of thought or action. So forgive me for my repetitiveness but maybe just maybe this is helping somebody else.]
I HATE being alone just a little bit less each day. Yes, I said it. The dreaded topic of loneliness, being alone, solitude, being single, that relationship status that so many proudly claim to be (but secretly harbor thoughts that there’s something wrong with them because society keeps reminding you in so many covert and overt ways that there is). Well, I’m going to be honest with ya and myself. Sometimes it does suck and sometimes, more and more so, I downright enjoy it.
But I’m becoming bi-curious (‘bi’ referring to being curious about solitude and togetherness) about the moments when the aloneness turns into loneliness. Usually it’s late at night or when I’m tired or doing something boring like making the same goddam drive to the neighboring town because I have a ½ hour commute. Why? Why? Why do I dislike it at those times? Sometimes I dislike being alone because being with someone who doesn’t understand me feels more lonely than just being alone.
Sometimes I feel lonely when the person cleaning my teeth starts asking me endless and boring questions about my job and family. Questions just to fill the time. Questions that lead to more questions that are all trite and blah. Their innocuous questions remind me of the gulf between me and other people… people who ‘get’ me but don’t happen to be around at that moment.
It’s at times like these that I know I need to write in order to turn things around. I need to dig my way into the problem to understand it. I’m done with the idea that there is a quick and easy fix to things. But I want to understand.
And the only thing that makes sense to me is that there is a voice inside us that, if we listen to it too much, makes us feel separate and different from other people. The fact is that the dental hygienist is just as bored as me with the prospect of cleaning my teeth for the umpteenth time and she is just trying to kill the blandness. Or the massage therapist who also fills the void with blasé questions when I would rather just lie down and enjoy the pressure of my muscles being ripped apart by her fingers. I love that kind of pain. But I can’t feel it if she’s yapping away at me while I lie there. Still, not to be rude, I answer the questions in the hopes that I can steal away a moment or two when she stops asking and I stop answering and I can just ‘be’ in the moment of bliss with my body.
We’re not so separate from each other. I guess that is the thought that I don’t dwell on enough. If I dwelled on it more, then I probably would never feel lonely. In fact, I’d probably want to run away and be a hermit in the woods more. There are days when I deal with so many people that all I want to do is hide. Just walk alone on a beach for miles. Just listen to the wind in the trees and think and not hear a human voice for days. Thank god I want that sometimes. Whenever I feel lonely and want to get back to just feeling my aloneness, then I should do that. Remember those days that drain the living life out of me. When I need time to myself to just think straight. To hear my own voice inside. Because that’s what happens eventually. Everyone else’s voice clamors so loudly in my head that I forget what I think or feel.
So the next time I start feeling the panic and dread of being lonely, I just need to hear the voices of the world banging around in my head. I want to love the voices, cherish the voices, but too much time around the voices and I just want to flee. Shhhh voices shhhhhh. Go to sleep, take a nap for awhile, but let me be. Thank you, voices. 😊