I’m Alone, Not Lonely

As long as I can remember I have enjoyed solitude. Some of my fondest memories are playing by myself as a child. We lived in a very small town when I was born and as was the norm in the 1960’s, I was allowed to roam and play. We were the original free range children. Thinking back to those days I can’t remember ever feeling unsafe. There was always a feeling of peace and wonder. My father was a grain elevator operator and I used to walk down there sometimes and see him. Hang about a bit and visit if he wasn’t busy. Stay out of the way if he was. It really was a dangerous place when the farmers pulled in to unload grain. I would walk up the street to the school and play on the playground equipment sometimes. There were rules though. If the school kids were out for lunch or recess I had to stay away. So I did. I’m not sure if this was Mom’s rule or the school’s but I followed it. My father also drove a school bus so sometimes after school let out he would allow me to come on the bus as he drove his route. It was a special time. Keep in mind we moved away from this town when I was six so my memories are from the ages of probably three to six. I remember freedom. Cruising the neighbourhood. Playing with kids when they were around and then playing alone when the mood hit. Every day was a wonder just waiting to unfold.

My oldest daughter made a comment one day that both surprised and hurt me. We were talking about friends and she casually commented that I didn’t have any friends. Now this was over twenty years ago and I guess in her mind according to her definition, I really didn’t have friends. She was at an age where you spent all of your time with your friends. Because that is where she was in her life. Not yet married and no kids she had a boyfriend and friends. By comparison, I worked full time and spent all of my free time driving kids here there and everywhere. When you have a family they become the priority. The more I thought about it the more I understood why she had that opinion. When she was young, we took her most places we went. Movies, concerts, restaurants. We couldn’t afford much so babysitters were out of the question. When we did go out with friends, we would leave her with Grandparents. We weren’t really the entertaining type so she seldom saw people coming over for a party or get together unless it was a relative thing. As a teen she saw only her own life. There were neighbours we spent time with but she was seldom part of that. At the cabin I had my gaggle of girls. Our younger kids knew them more but in reality none of my kids really know my friends. When my husband passed away my daughter Britt chatted with a woman at the funeral. Later she asked how I knew this woman. Was she a work friend? Nope. I met Maureen when I was in grade five. Of course we wound in and out of each others lives through the years but never lost touch. The reality is we never really know our parents that well. We take them for granted. We don’t understand that they have lives. The same goes for Grandparents. I remember the day we were chatting with our Granddaughter Pia. She was very surprised to learn we were her grandparents. She was only six but no one had ever really explained who we were.

When my husband was alive I had an automatic partner. Movies, walks, a game of pool, or golf. Trips, camping, hiking, kayaking. Someone who came with. Even if he didn’t want to or wasn’t feeling it. When he didn’t want to participate, I went alone. I did a lot of things alone. And of course, so did he. But there was always the reassurance that somewhere out there was your person. The one you can count on to always be there. The for sure date when you need one. I was never lonely throughout my life. Even though I was alone a lot. And I loved it. These days I live alone. I do what I want when I want. It is a strange feeling to not have that person sitting on that shelf waiting. Waiting to drop everything because you ask them to. Initially after he passed away I buried myself deep into seclusion just to heal. It is quite a shock when life derails your plans. Sort of like crashing your bike as a child. The skinned knee. The initial pain is so overwhelming that you can do nothing but cry and hug yourself. Shutting out your surroundings. Until the intense pain starts to subside and you become aware once more, of life around you. Being alone was so good then. In time, as you venture out into the world you put on the face people want to see. We wait until we are alone to let down our guard and expose our real pain. If we are fortunate, we have gathered a small group of people who we can show the real depth of our hearts. That is Maureen and Rhonda. Two people from my childhood. My saviours who allow me to be real without judgment. I don’t need to see them all the time. Just knowing they are there is such a blessing.

My girlfriend Jane also lost her husband to cancer. She was always such a social butterfly and often overwhelmed me with her gogogo energy. When her husband died she too had many people who cared for her and helped her in the ways she needed. While chatting one day she said something that struck me hard. She said “I am not lucky to have these friends. I have tended my garden well over my lifetime.” That is so very true in life sometimes. I must admit I am not like Jane. I am not as quick to be the person who calls up a friend. I am more the go along friend. The one that says yes at the last minute. Making plans is often so difficult for me so I need the friends I have to do that for me. For my little trio, Maureen is that girl. When she isn’t around Rhonda and I flounder somewhat. It isn’t in our genetic makeup I guess. So we go about our business. But I do know that when I need them I just need to ask. I guess that is the point of it all in life. Just be willing to ask. Sometimes I feel that deep connections are hard work. We need to give so much of ourselves in order to reap the benefits of a true friendship. Now as I look back over my life I find that the connections I made and the ones I still have, were not hard work at all. I truly love people but not so much in large groups and social situations. The people I feel connected to understand and accept my foibles and whatnots. As I do theirs. It isn’t work at all. It is about not putting demands on others. It is about acceptance.

I know that there are people in this world who are so paralyzed with their loneliness that life is horrible. I wish I could understand it. I could never even offer advice to people who feel this way. Because in the times in my life that I have felt lonely, it was often due to something new in my life and it also passed. It was never an ongoing feeling of despair. When I first went to boarding school I found I was a little lonely. I was in an unfamiliar place with a roommate who was a senior with what seemed like tons of friends. I knew no one. But then I met a girl in the registrars office as I waited my turn for a class clarification. We chatted and went to the bar for a beer. Surprisingly we were served even though both underaged. We text each other now and again. But we aren’t reallly friends. Just two people who shared some memories. I moved a lot as a child so I was often the new girl in school. It was never very long until someone spoke to me. Lunch and recess were the hardest just as the cafeteria was difficult at the college level. Oddly enough, the more acquaintances I had the more I loved being alone. Again, the psychological mind games of loneliness. I needed solitude when there too many people in my life. I often took an earlier lunch break when I was an office worker so I could sit alone and eat and read in silence. People are overwhelming.

Last May, on the long weekend it became apparent that the world was spending it with friends and I realized no one had asked me to go camping. I wasn’t being included by a group of close friends to partake in a fun get together. As I watched a few couples drive their trailers past my house I felt that pang of loneliness. As I sat back to analyze the feeling I realized I didn’t actually want to hang out with a crowd for the long weekend. I was content to garden and relax in my home. My loneliness was based on a perceived slight. No one thought of me. Not true at all. And even so, I wouldn’t have said yes to an invite anyways. I think in some ways we just want to be asked so we think someone cares. People care. They just know us. If I wanted to do something I could have asked any number of friends to spend time with me and they would have included me. Sometimes we need to own our shit. I usually say no so they stop asking. Not because they don’t care but they respect that we aren’t the social butterflies.

I once had a naturopath tell me that I live life too much in my head. But don’t we all? We spend so much time thinking about stuff and too often we go down a sad and painful path with our thoughts. Usually it has to do with fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of the “WHAT IF’S”. Fear of failure. None of it has much basis in reality. Once, during an argument, my hubby just walked away and went to our bedroom. I followed in an attempt to continue the discussion so we coud have some resolution. He refused to talk about it and went about his business as if I wasn’t in the room. Finally, after a few minutes of me nattering on, he turned and said, “You really don’t need me in this discussion. You can argue both sides by yourself. Let me know how it turns out.” And he went for a run. We do this all of the time. Play out scenarios in our minds. As my daughter says, shower arguments. We always win those. The difference with someone like me, the introverted loner/wanna be hermit, who craves social interaction, but only sometimes… My scenarios are actually quite positive. There is an hour long portion of a drive to my cabin with no cell or radio reception at all. So as I drive, I interview myself. The scenarios are ever changing but sometimes I pretend I have published a book and I am being interviewed by the New York Times. I may be delusional according to some, but in a way I am encouraging myself to keep at it. Keep writing. I have had many interviews about why my oldest daughter doesn’t like me. Those actually help me bring clarity into my own life and heal. In so many ways, my me on me interviews have me searching deep into my psyche as I answer my own questions about why I am the way I am. How I think. My biases. My views and opinions. These all change so it is interesting for me to get in touch with me. What causes the changes? It truly is an incredibly wonderful way to get to know someone. Interview them. So, I interview me. I like me, but then again I don’t see all of the yucky parts. I am biased.

I understand where this all came from, this need to talk to myself. I played alone quite a lot as a child and I had lots of imaginary friends. Of course they couldn’t talk and so I had to play their parts. So I guess I am just continuing that throughout my life. The wonderful thing is that even though we can be our own worst critics, it isn’t that hard to be our own best friends. I like what I like. Until I don’t. I have lots of interests until I get bored. I love people until I am around them for very long. And then I want to run away. There is one person who always champions me in my life. Someone who can always be counted on to say yes. To be boost me up and to be positive. They will take my side whenever I complain. But when I ask for the truth, they will help me look deep inside. Honestly. So I can see the parts I want to hide. The parts that might make me seem unlikable. Because they want nothing but the best for me. That person is me. I can’t find any answers outside of myself because that isn’t where the questions are. I am not what or who other people see and know. I am a made up version of a few parts they know. They fill in the blanks with good or bad character traits that they make up in their heads. Good if they like me and bad if they don’t. I am the greatest or the worst. All based on their perception. And once the perception becomes fact, the door either opens wide or is shut tight. But I can’t get away from myself. So I either slide slowly into a pit of despair with negative thoughts or I embrace the good in myself and allow the good to lead me onward and upward. To learn a little more every day. To find peace and contentment away from the hustle and bustle of the world around me. To be alone with my thoughts is a wonderful time for me. My ADHD mind running wild. It is a magical place my mind. The thoughts coming in so fast and furious and disappearing just as quickly.

When I was young I never questioned how I thought. Why I did what I did. I just did. Growing older and exposure to the world initially made me absorb life with a bit of awe and wonder. When a time came that the world made me question myself and what seemed like an inability to conform, I found turning inward was healing. So now, as I soldier through these golden years alone, I find I am in good company. I have learned that I was born with the answers for finding peace in my life. The world around me brought lessons, each asking me deep and soul searching questions. But when I turned to the world for the answers I found none. I was born enough as my gal Rhonda always says. I am enough. We all are. I have found this also to be true. I am the least lonely when I am alone. Just like that little girl way back when.