Last night, as I tossed and turned and worried about money, my gradual aggravation with my job, my living situation, and my lack of anything resembling a normal social life, it dawned on me that I'm often overcome by loneliness, but rarely when I'm alone. When I'm alone, especially when occupied by reading, writing, watching sports or a movie, even just with my own silly thoughts, I'm content. I know I am always preaching how being content is not the same as happy, and I'm not suggesting this is a new found happiness, but I enjoy the simplicity of my solitude much more than I do the attempt to find my niche here.
This weekend, and last, I spent way too much doing what I used to call my social life. The difference is, now, I'm not surrounded by friends I've known for years, maybe even decades, but strangers, who have all been together like I was where I come from. To be honest, even in my old home, I always felt like an outsider. I wasn't like most people in that I hadn't grown up there and as life has taught me, small towns, even big ones, are very protective of their own. At a time in my life where this shouldn't matter, it does more than ever. Am I meant to always feel like the stranger?
This is not to say there were no moments of enjoyment, laughter, or the exchanging of thoughts and opinions, but the two highlights of the past two weeks were when I was home, thinking about the past, that ever-growing time in my life where mistakes seemed reversible. The moments were deeply personal and while they don't reflect where I am now in my life, or even close to where I envisioned myself, they were thoughts of much simpler times, when I woke up every morning happy to be where I was in the world and surrounded by what I felt was love and appreciation. Going to sleep with those thoughts was calming and I miss that. I long for the need for an alarm, because my slumber is so deep and so restful, nothing could disturb me. Now, the faintest sound leaves me tossing and turning, sometimes for entire nights. This, of course, is the only time I'm not content with being alone, but I know that is selfish. Why would I want my insecurities and insatiable desire for rest to haunt someone else? I don't and I do take some solace in my selflessness.
Loneliness and being alone are so different and I know many confuse the two. For me, loneliness can only happen when one loses the ability to see value in their own existence. I am far from that. I have children, who I'd like to think count on me, to thank for this. There's also something about being alone that I find reassuring. It can be exhausting to have people count on you, and parents have my utmost respect, because they can rarely, if ever, turn that off, just to enjoy the solitude of their own bodies and mind.
It's Monday morning and an interesting week lies ahead. Some good and bad things are sure to happen, but in my head, I feel I need to step back from trying to fit in and enjoy myself. Enjoy more time alone, even if there are bodies and sounds all around me. Being alone while in the companies of others sounds depressing, but when so little in common is shared, it's sometimes easier to shut others out, both physically and metaphorically, even if it's just for a little while. Long enough to get away, without pushing away. Somewhere between my trying to fit in and my contentment with myself, there's a happy medium. I just need a little more happiness and a little less settlign for being content.
This weekend, and last, I spent way too much doing what I used to call my social life. The difference is, now, I'm not surrounded by friends I've known for years, maybe even decades, but strangers, who have all been together like I was where I come from. To be honest, even in my old home, I always felt like an outsider. I wasn't like most people in that I hadn't grown up there and as life has taught me, small towns, even big ones, are very protective of their own. At a time in my life where this shouldn't matter, it does more than ever. Am I meant to always feel like the stranger?
This is not to say there were no moments of enjoyment, laughter, or the exchanging of thoughts and opinions, but the two highlights of the past two weeks were when I was home, thinking about the past, that ever-growing time in my life where mistakes seemed reversible. The moments were deeply personal and while they don't reflect where I am now in my life, or even close to where I envisioned myself, they were thoughts of much simpler times, when I woke up every morning happy to be where I was in the world and surrounded by what I felt was love and appreciation. Going to sleep with those thoughts was calming and I miss that. I long for the need for an alarm, because my slumber is so deep and so restful, nothing could disturb me. Now, the faintest sound leaves me tossing and turning, sometimes for entire nights. This, of course, is the only time I'm not content with being alone, but I know that is selfish. Why would I want my insecurities and insatiable desire for rest to haunt someone else? I don't and I do take some solace in my selflessness.
Loneliness and being alone are so different and I know many confuse the two. For me, loneliness can only happen when one loses the ability to see value in their own existence. I am far from that. I have children, who I'd like to think count on me, to thank for this. There's also something about being alone that I find reassuring. It can be exhausting to have people count on you, and parents have my utmost respect, because they can rarely, if ever, turn that off, just to enjoy the solitude of their own bodies and mind.
It's Monday morning and an interesting week lies ahead. Some good and bad things are sure to happen, but in my head, I feel I need to step back from trying to fit in and enjoy myself. Enjoy more time alone, even if there are bodies and sounds all around me. Being alone while in the companies of others sounds depressing, but when so little in common is shared, it's sometimes easier to shut others out, both physically and metaphorically, even if it's just for a little while. Long enough to get away, without pushing away. Somewhere between my trying to fit in and my contentment with myself, there's a happy medium. I just need a little more happiness and a little less settlign for being content.
Comments
Post a Comment