| I
consider myself an expert on loneliness, though I
don't say that with pride or satisfaction.
That's just the way things have been for me. Our
family moved around constantly while I was young, so I
spent a lot of time by myself when I wished I was with
others. Both tendencies followed me into my
adult years--moving a lot and spending a lot of time
alone--so I've had plenty of time to feel loneliness,
ponder loneliness, and learn to dislike loneliness a
great deal.
I
don't regret those times at all. Through
loneliness I've learned the beauty and wealth and
necessity of solitude, and I've learned to be able to
do many things on my own that many people would love
to be able to do. I'm not bothered at all by
sitting alone at a table in a crowded restaurant, and
I'm not afraid to leave a negative situation just
because I might be alone. I never allowed myself
to be dragged into a negative relationship just
because I was afraid of being alone. I never
dread being alone, and I often look forward to it, for
I know just how healing it can be.
I
didn't marry until I was 38, either, so I had an awful
lot of time to learn about loneliness.
Here's
much of what I learned. I can't tell it all
because I'm not sure that I'm fully aware of all that
I've learned.
My
loneliness depends on my perspective. I can be
alone and be lonely, or I can be alone and enjoy the
quiet time and the chance I have to reflect, meditate,
be introspective. When I'm with myself, I can
listen to whatever music I want, watch what I want on
TV (or turn it off when I want), and eat whatever I
feel like eating. There was a time when I would
have traded all of these freedoms for anything, but I
also finally reached a point before I met my wife at
which I appreciated these freedoms, and did my best to
take advantage of them. I can see being alone as
lonely, or I can see being alone as enjoying
solitude. It's up to me.
Loneliness
is very real. It's a very strong feeling that
can be very debilitating, and it's difficult to live
with. It affects a person to the depths of his
or her being, for in loneliness one sees oneself as
being rejected by other people who would rather be
with someone else--anyone else, we tell
ourselves. Somehow we're unacceptable,
undesirable, unlovable. We have plenty of time
to be alone to tell ourselves all these negative
things about ourselves.
And
how many people are afraid to leave destructive
relationships or marriages because they're afraid of
being alone?
In
hindsight, one of the most tragic things about my
loneliness was that much of it was caused by my fear
of rejection. I've learned when I was moving
away or when someone else was leaving that they really
wished they could have spent more time with me.
But I never picked up the phone to say "Hey,
let's get together" because I was afraid that
they would say no. My loneliness was bad, but it
was worse when I was spending time alone after being
rejected. But much of my loneliness, I now know,
could have been averted by a simple phone call now and
then. I could have gone hiking, could have gone
to movies, could have had more people over for dinner,
could have done a lot of things with lots of
people. Instead, I sat home alone.
And
by calling someone else, I might even have helped them
feel less lonely.
Jesus
went to the desert for forty days in order to be
alone. Most of our great spiritual leaders make
sure that they have plenty of time in their lives to
be alone. Our time alone is very important to
us--if we give it a chance and try to recognize the
lessons that it's trying to teach us. It's up to
us, though, to define that time--is it loneliness, or
is it solitude? How we see it, how we treat it,
and how we treat ourselves when we're with it make it
what it is.
Solitude |
