The Gift of Loneliness

If there was one emotion that I wish I never had to feel again it would be loneliness. The thought of being loved, accepted, considered, needed and in meaningful relationships without having to feel that pit of loneliness ever again would be truly amazing. Loneliness is a feeling I have come to know quite well; it's a feeling that I have been 'forced' to reckon with as long as I can remember and I don't anticipate I will stop dealing with it anytime soon. And by soon, I mean until I am no longer on this earth. 

Learning how to deal with loneliness has been quite a process and like anything it seems to have vast layers that surface with overwhelming force at very inopportune times. I used to think that the loneliest I could be was when I would hear of the girls that I had mentored as middle and high schoolers getting married and having babies. Then all of my younger brothers got married and I realized that was a new level of loneliness that I had never experienced before. When my third and final brother got married last fall, I had become accustomed to dealing with this emotion and was able to make it through the wedding with much serenity. 

I've experienced loneliness in diagnosable amounts anytime I have broken up with someone; residual effects of missing someone's companionship or just having someone to say goodnight to can take it's toll. Loneliness has come from celebrating holidays alone, Friday nights alone or even from being the one amidst my friends who traditionally has to do the pursuing and planning if I want to hang out with anyone. Loneliness comes when I am the afterthought of being invited somewhere, the "hey, someone else backed out...wanna come?" friend or the one who sees on social media that everyone is hanging out without you. Basically, I've felt like I have really excelled at processing through, feeling and not denying the emotion of loneliness. 

Lest I get comfortable in how to deal with this emotion, I experienced a entirely different level of loneliness when my grandmother passed away earlier this year. Never before had I experienced such a depth of despair and aloneness. It couldn't compare to all of my break-ups, Friday nights alone or brothers getting married combined. 

Sure, I had family around me and people to talk to. Even though I spent a good long time actively numbing my emotion initially, I still knew there were people around me. But when I saw and talked to my grandfather in the days leading up to my grandmother's funeral, the pit of loneliness was undeniable.  I did miss my grandmother and I don't think I ever have to stop that, but it was watching my grandfather break into tears as he thought of his beloved wife of nearly 72 years being gone that the loneliness settled in. As he told stories and recalled events from the previous seven decades what became most obvious was how important and actually essential this relationship was to him. 

As I experienced him talking about, recounting, laughing and crying over memories of her, their depth of relationship was so apparent and so powerful that you could not ignore it. Not only did I feel lonely for my grandfather, I suddenly was faced with a reality of knowing that I had never experienced such a love--so pure, so enduring, so healing, so enjoyable and so steadfast and I knew in an instant how much I wanted it. In the absence of that great love that my grandfather spoke of rested instead loneliness that only magnified that human need for relationship.  

While I have done a great deal of work in processing my own loneliness prior to the passing of my grandmother I had never really understood the purpose of it. In my head and by putting on my therapist hat I knew that there was a gift in identifying and feeling lonely but I've always felt like it's a gift that I have never received. In "Voice of the Heart" by Chip Dodd, he explains that the gift of loneliness is relationship. When we allow ourselves to truly understand, know and feel our loneliness what we get is the transcending knowledge that we desperately need to be in relationships with others; we are created for relationship. Experiencing and feeling loneliness allows to tap into some of the deepest parts of ourselves in order to reach out and cultivate meaningful and intimate relationships. Experiencing and feeling loneliness taps into our fears of being betrayed, rejected and hurt and plants in us a zeal that is willing to risk relationships despite the potential hurt. Essentially it allows us to see that the reward of relationship far outweighs the risk. 

So, what it boils down to is this: I am coming to a place where I can realize and accept there will not be a point on this earth that I will never feel lonely again. There will always be points where even small doses of loneliness may creep up. But the loneliness serves as a reminder and motivation of my humanity, my need for relationships and the joy that I can experience in these relationships.

Honestly, I don't believe that a relationship is a fix all for the emotion of loneliness. I have been in relationships before where the loneliness I have felt is even greater than the loneliness I have experienced being single. But the truth of the matter is that often times we can not experience the depth of joy of a relationship if we have not also experienced the other end of the spectrum--the depth of loneliness in absence of a relationship. The loneliness allows us to cherish and desire relationship that likely could not be present if the loneliness had not first occurred.

As I write this I am sitting in an airport coming home from my grandfather's funeral; he passed away just six weeks after his sweetheart, my grandmother, did. The doctors diagnosed him as dying from takotsubo cardiomyopathy--dying from broken heart syndrome. The loneliness in my own self has lessened a bit knowing that my grandparents are now together again; they are no longer lonely for each other. While they gave me many gifts while here on this earth through their life they have given me a beautiful gift in their death--they have given me the gift of relationship; of knowing how beautiful, healing and what a necessity it is. I will continue to miss them, to be sad that they are gone and to, always, wish that they were still here. These things never have to stop and I can honor the amazing presence that they were in my life by feeling my loneliness and accepting their gift and example of relationship. 

The Masks We Wear

One of the things that I find myself reflecting on a lot are the different masks that I seem to wear throughout my single-dom. It’s not wearing a mask like I might have in middle school or high school when I was trying to figure out my identity (remember those days…one day you would show up to school as a preppy cheerleader and the next day you would sport black lipstick, a pale complexion and all black clothing?) The masks I have worn in my relationship status seem to have the ability to change just as frequently as a teenager figuring out their identity, but they seem to be motivated by a completely different foundation.

If you are over 30 and single, or single again, chances are life has handed you a plethora of experiences, relationships, jobs, decisions and everything else in between, that has really helped to shape who you are. And I think it’s fair to say that many of us have even started to make sense of many of these experiences and been able to use them as a source of refinement and betterment. There is much truth in the statement that with age brings wisdom! I would not trade my body in my 20’s for the mind I have in my 30’s (well…let’s be honest, somedays I do want that body back. To be able to survive on gatorade, licorice and Cheetos without gaining a pound…those were the days!) So, as the days of our life here on this earth steadily increase, there is an amount of being able to “settle in” to who you are that brings about a greater ability to breathe and simply enjoy life in a way that wasn’t possible when you had that Cheeto-eating-body!

Enter in the topic of relationships though, and sometimes that ability to breathe and enjoy life is no where to be found (and to top it off, your body doesn’t react the same way to a bag of Cheetos, so you really do feel all alone!) And that’s where we begin to try on different masks. These masks though are motivated from this deep and vulnerable place within us that is begging for an answer to the question of “Does anyone love me? Do I matter? Does anyone truly see who I am?” And the more those questions are answered with silence or bold faced rejection, the more we must figure out how to defend ourselves against the pain of that unfavorable and all too consistent answer. 

Those deep and vulnerable questions I liken to a wound—they are raw, seemingly exposed and make you wince when someone gets close to touching them. And just like a physical wound that we would seek to protect if the possibility of an additional threat came our way, I believe that we find, even subconsciously, ways to protect that vulnerability in order to keep people at arms length and keep ourselves safe. It’s a natural inclination to want to protect ourselves. We grow up learning how to protect ourselves physically, but when it comes to relationships we have to learn an entirely new set of survival skills.

As I thought about this topic, I began to list out the different masks I had worn (or still wear!) in an effort to protect that vulnerable place within me (remember, that vulnerable place in us is asking those questions of “Am I loved? Do I matter? Does anyone truly see who I am? Does anyone want me? Is there something wrong with me?”) I thought about just listing them all out seeing if y’all could identify with me just based on my titles alone, but quickly realized that I think it’s important to dig into and understand these masks that we wear…why do we wear them, how do we change them, do I ever get to stop wearing them? So we’re gonna spend the next few blogs dissecting the many faces of being single (or single again) and over 30.

The Mask of Cynicism

 I had to start with this mask because it’s the one that is, unfortunately, the most well-worn for me. It’s the mask that I wore daily for quite a long time and the mask that I will go back to in moments that I need something familiar. To be honest, I think this mask is usually combined with many of the other masks I wear. And, I might venture to say, the Mask of Cynicism is probably present in each one of us. And I think it’s also safe to say this mask was created first as a defense mechanism and as a way to cope. It was created the first time you were cheated on, the first time you were rejected, the first time someone disappeared from your life. It became more defined each time someone walked out, each Friday night spent alone, every time you were the 3rd wheel or had to go to a wedding of a friend. And every day, weekend, month, year that passes by and you remain single, this mask no longer feels like a mask. It actually seems to be an intricate part of who you are. 

For me, personally, this mask was present far before I knew it existed. I would try to be excited for a friend who was in a new relationship, but in secret I would cry myself to sleep wondering when it was going to happen for me. And then, in an effort to try and make sense of the situation, I would allow myself to have a silent tirade against all single men who either (only in my opinion, of course) were too blind to see what was good for them, were too flaky to commit or needed to pull their shit together to rise to my standards. And, while those things may have been true from time to time, this cynical view only served as a band-aid, as I denied what was truly going on for me: I was hurting and I was lonely. 

It’s hard to admit that we are hurting, that we are lonely, that we long for a relationship. For whatever reason, in our culture, admitting these things is like admitting weakness. Most of the time we feel like there is something wrong with us; and we convince ourselves that we should feel a whole lot better about being single than we actually do. The interesting part about this is that the more we deny and shove down that hurt and loneliness, the bigger it actually gets. 

At some point that hurt and loneliness has to have some sort of an outlet and it’s not uncommon for it to turn to resentment and resentment to cynicism.  The problem with this type of cynicism, however, is that when this is the mask we wear, we are denying what is real; we are simply surviving. 

I stated above that this Mask of Cynicism is a mask I am quite familiar with; one that in those weak moments I can easily slip back on. It’s an old friend, it gives me momentary gratification and satisfaction. But it never lasts. The reality is, when I allow myself to wear this mask without noticing it, recognizing it’s reason for existence and where it is manifesting itself, I become quite bitter. Bitterness breeds cynicism which breeds more bitterness; it’s a vicious cycle that eventually results in isolation (which is where I think the stereotype of the cat lady comes in to play! Seriously, click the link if you are in need of a chuckle!)

So, what’s a girl to do? Is it possible for this cycle to even be stopped, for this mask to be removed and to move forward in humble acceptance? The short answer is, yes. Though it is, as always, easier said than done, removing this mask requires a daily commitment to live in honesty and truth about the reality that you live in. It doesn’t mean you become a victim or martyr (those are masks we will discuss in a future post), it simply means you accept the situation you are in rather than trying to deny it. [A quick note on acceptance: contrary to popular belief, acceptance doesn’t mean that you have to like your situation, it doesn’t mean that you have to desire more of it either. Acceptance simply means that you are honest and truthful about the reality that you are presently in, living fully in that moment, participating in your emotions rather than repressing or suppressing them and then to move out of that moment when needed.]

I will end with a quote I read from a meditation book, The Book of Awakening, by poet, Mark Nepo:

“It’s so simple and yet so brave to say that we are hurt when we are hurt, to say that we are sad when we are sad, to say that we are scared when we are scared. In very direct and daily ways, this energy of realness changes situations because the immediate expression of our truth releases light and warmth that influences the life we are a part of. This is the way our spirit shines.”