ALONE

 

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Samuel leaves for work, I am alone. I remind myself that I’m not lonely, I’m alone. And not alone really because now I have myself. I am the one with me from birth to death. I still deal with feelings such a sadness, like the loss of my Mother seven years ago this same season, the Spring of May.

And the loss of my friend, Sue. Returning to my computer, after re-filling my coffee, its slide-show flashed a photo of her. She died three years ago at only 68 after five years of remission from breast cancer. Seeing her happy smile with her dog and grand-son shining through the window made me remember and smile. Her husband had died from an accident only nine months prior to her death. 

My friend Mary, who lives down the road, introduced me to her. I organized a group of women who meet monthly rotating whose house to meet at each month. That has been going on for for well over ten years. We do crafts, or play cards, munch on snacks, of course chat and catch up, and the hostess serves dessert at the end.

The hours fly by. Mary encouraged me to invite Sue, but I wouldn’t, hesitant to upset the working balance of personalities that got along. And for many months I resisted until finally relenting. 

What took me so long? Sue suffered a rape in childhood which I didn’t know until she joined. Unlike me, she was very upfront about it. Hers occurred by the stranger off the street, not the usual way as statistics support, a family member or friend of the family.

It is easier to talk about it if it’s a stranger; easier and more acceptable. And it shouldn’t be. Being hit by a Mack Truck is being hit by a Mack Truck. But her family handled it very much the same; they provided no support. You tough it out. She was expected to NOT mention it and go on as if nothing had ever happened. 

I noticed in our gatherings, until she became more comfortable, how groups of people made her highly anxious and she wanted escape. I noticed many similarities that made me feel deeply connected to her. And her to me.

She lived in the neighboring town, emailed me chatty news regularly, called on occasion just to talk and we often met outside of the monthly gatherings. Over a period of five years a friendship developed unlike all others. Then?

Gone. Just like that. 

That is why to cherish each day.

Cherish that I have a home, a husband, two sons I am close and connected to, two grand-children I adore, and maybe most cherished of all is that I have found home inside me. I feel settled even amidst those times in-between when I’m not because I come back ‘home.’

For most of my life I lived in upset, disconnected to my source, or center. Flying parts couldn’t be contained. I felt scorching loneliness clawing from the inside out, desperate for a family who wouldn’t have me as I am. I had to pretend, so I did.

And as long as I pretended to be what they were able to live with so the truth didn’t upset them, I did not have me. I found myself hiding deep. I went deep to find those parts that made me me, connecting the flying parts; here is home. I am so grateful to feel wholeness. Because since age 8, I never did feel whole again until I found and owned all of me.

Christmas 07 005c

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14 thoughts on “ALONE

  1. I’m home alone today too. Rob has been away for business travel, the kids left for school and I have a morning to be still. Sometimes it scares me. The stillness. I get anxious when I stop moving because I feel guilty. Or bad for not outputting. But I need this time. Time to be home, in my body, with myself. Just me. Thanks for this today.

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  2. I am so glad you have found that home deep within. It makes so much difference when you are grieving. For me, grief is part of my being at home with myself. I have this constant sense of grief but I find it life giving as well. I am at home with all that I am. Thanks for helping me to reflect on that today.

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  3. It has been almost 39 years since I left home, and my parents behind me. I was saddened by the death of both of them, attending his funeral, and making all the arrangements for her graveside memorial service, since she hadn’t left enough Life Insurance to do anything more than that. But just because they are gone – my mother only 3 1/2 years ago, my dad 12 years ago this month, I remember that because he died on Cinco de Mayo, the Fifth of May, doesn’t mean I have been able to put the past behind me. I mourned the loss of both of them, though I have no clue why, as I was subjected to abuse from both of them. Now, for the most part, I’ve put all those bad memories behind me, but not properly, as they do come back to haunt me, dragging me into the depths of mental illness once again. I never spoke to either of them, of their separate forms of abuse that rained down upon me, and now that still comes bubbling back to the surface, and this haunts me for some time, until I can push them back down again. I hope that someday I’ll be able to put it all to rest, and go on to live a fulfilling life.

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    1. I hope so too Karen. A little at a time, or how much you can when you can. You can still speak to them now if you need to; out-loud, in letter form, etc.
      It’s understandable to love ones parents even if they were abusive.

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        1. Me too, for as long as I can remember. The chapters erupted after my mother’s death. I hadn’t realized I had been protecting her illusion of ‘the happy family’ all that time.
          Her death freed me. Odd. The pain devastated me. The freedom of being who I really was allowed wholeness and groundedness for the first time; the true meaning of healing. Quite the conundrum.

          Liked by 2 people

  4. “And as long as I pretended to be what they were able to live with so the truth didn’t upset them, I did not have me. I found myself hiding deep. I went deep to find those parts that made me me, connecting the flying parts; here is home. I am so grateful to feel wholeness.”

    I loved this post, and especially this quote. So wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

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