I am alone. No more have I ever felt it. Alone. It echoes.
My immediate family is 2,400 miles away. I have no boyfriend, no husband, and no children. I am alone.
I’ve had this feeling before.
Some days, this feeling is about being single. There are a lot of times it’s about that, but today, it’s not.
Today, it’s deeper. It feels like a questioning of faith, of who I am.
I was in a car accident last week. I was hit pretty hard from behind, while sitting in rush hour traffic, and a week later I am still feeling sore, back spasming, not able to work a full day, struggling to figure out all of this insurance paperwork, and generally feeling really awful. I can’t sit up for more than a few hours without discomfort. I can’t dance. Can’t run. I’m in pain.
My heart is in pain as well. I go through periods of feeling very grateful for the friends and extended family who have offered me solace and brought me magazines, coffee, and company in my time of need. Then, something switches, and I let the sadness swallow me and I forget about those people; I sink into the void. The void is a dangerous place. It’s thick and black. It’s a place that keeps me very still, very quiet, and obscures my vision with heavy tears. It’s a pity party to the nth degree. And I must face it alone. Have you ever felt this way?
If I am injured and I can’t move, what good am I? In the last several years, the word movement has become one of the words that defines me. I have belly danced my way into discovering my femininity. I have salsa danced my way into understanding my sensual side. I have run straight into an athletic part of me that I never knew existed. Without those, I struggle to connect the dots that make up Becky.
Yes, I am a writer. Yes, I am a sister, a daughter, a friend, a unique spirit. But it has always been a choice to wear whatever hat I needed at the time. When those hats go from dozens to merely one, victim, in a matter of seconds, it’s jarring. And alone, I must figure out what to do with that. It’s not scary, but it is emotional. It’s this alone time that I should take to figure out the answers to the questions that we should all ask ourselves. Who am I? Why am I here?
I can see the light at the end of this, but I must accept the void as part of myself before I get there. It’s a dusty road, the grime clouding my eyes. Slowly, they will clear, but if someone could keep an eye on my glasses along the way, I would be grateful.
I am alone
I am alone. No more have I ever felt it. Alone. It echoes.
14 thoughts on “I am alone”
Big existential questions… ones I’ve found myself pondering a lot too lately. Questioning the minutiae of life and its meaning. I have no profound answers but I do want you to know you are not alone in your seeking. Some days, for me, knowing that can be enough to pull me through.
I think most people go through this kind of feeling at some point, and those that don’t are just floating along the surface of life: “Only the shallow know themselves”.
As for that lonely feeling, it helps me to realize that it can be a matter of perception, and thinking about the scale of life can remind me of that. Am I a solitary water molecule, alone, but surrounded by other molecules? Or am I part of an ocean that is one huge thing? The difference is just in how I choose to look at it.
And there are so many poets and philosophers whose ideas help me. “The spirits in the ether envy man his pain.” “If my heart had never broken how would it have become unsealed?” “This being human is a guest house, each morning brings a new arrival…” Really, almost anything by Rumi…
“”My heart is so small
it’s almost invisible.
How can You place
such big sorrows in it?”
“Look,” He answered,
“your eyes are even smaller,
yet they behold the world.”
Rumi is so beautiful! Such words are truly a gift. Thank you for commenting, AC.
Thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. It speaks volumes.
The depth of that chasm of alone-ness is categorized “emotion-undesirable”, and our era of civilization has been programed to to eschew it, robbed of the serenity found in a few hours or days to endure ( no, CELEBRATE!) being solo. The planet is small…you are not really very alone for very long, so savor those moments while you are blessed with them. Fear not your usefulness when disabled, you’re gifted with your mind. Consider this: you have already made such a measure of social and community contribution that you are overdue a break! The Universe is granting you a deliberate vacation, a chance to engage your SELF, perhaps discover some special treasure in your spirit that you simply cannot find when the cacophony of the world is crowding it out. Search for that, and in that hunting ground you will never feel alone.
That was amazing to read. I will read that again, many times, to remind myself. Thank you.
From Nurse Jackie: “Like, I came into the world with someone. I didn’t come here alone, so, you know, being ‘alone’ alone is hard for me. It doesn’t feel bad. It just feels…wrong.” – Mo-Mo, a twin.
Hi, sweetie – finally had a chance to read this. I so relate to your words, and I think there is great beauty and healing in sitting with these feelings long enough that you find release on the other side.
After feeling that most every area of my life was dismantling itself as soon as I moved back to Los Angeles, I was overwhelmed and unsure as to how long I would have to endure this unsettled place. One day I was lying down, and had a vision of all of the various parts of my life suspended overhead, like a mobile, and observed them just as they were. I had a moment of realization that every single one of those things was beautiful and complete, even the things that were not as I wanted them to be. I cried with relief at the reminder that we can, at any time, make peace with right now – not only make peace with it, but see it and feel it with love and appreciation. I wish peace for you as you courageously allow your life to broaden and deepen with these thoughts and experiences.
Making peace with right now…I love that.
I’m behind on reading your blog, but I really, really, really loved your post on feeling alone. It resonated with me in so many ways that I couldn’t help but think that it’s funny how expressing such an isolating feeling could contribute to my current feeling of being connected to you in that moment – rather than alone.
My first inclination was to share with you the ways that I handle those feelings, but sometimes I think providing solutions diminishes the value of the initial feeling. And, sometimes it isn’t so bad to feel alone.
Thanks so much for such a beautiful post.
Thank you so much, Suzette. I, too, noticed how many more comments this post – and thus, shared connections – I received on this post. I agree that feeling alone is not always a bad thing. It still makes me feel terrifyingly vulnerable to write this kind of post, but it is always worth it.
This is so hauntingly beautiful and hits point to how im sure everyone feels at some point, I was in a bad car accident one year ago and broke my cheek bone and it was awful, I got really depressed, I totaled my car, had to quit my job and lay around for 4 months to fully heal!
It sounds like you’re very much in tune with the emotions I felt when I wrote this post. I really value your sharing. It takes a strong person to admit such intimate (and sometimes scary) emotions. Thank you for commenting.